A poem entitled Palm Sunday, by Malcolm Guite

Now to the gate of my Jerusalem, the seething holy city of my heart, the Savior comes. But will I welcome Him? Oh crowds of easy feelings make a start; They raise their hands, get caught up in the singing, and think the battle is won.Too soon they’ll find the challenge, the reversal He is bringing changes their tune. I know what lies behind the surface flourish that so quickly fades; Jesus, come break my resistance and make me your home. 

Painting, Palm Sunday by Kai Althoff

Readers: Kristen Cavallo and Phil Dawson

Music by Ryan Corbitt

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