What we now call Palm Sunday was a crucial day in the most momentous week in the history of the entire world. Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem prior to His crucifixion appears in all four Gospels, each of which approaches it from a slightly different vantage point. A closer look at the various iterations of this story would show us the complexity of the social dynamics that may not be apparent in reading Luke’s account alone. Indeed, John’s Gospel tells us that even Jesus’ disciples didn’t understand the impact of His entry into Jerusalem until after the resurrection (John 12:16).

We see in Jesus’ triumphal entry a deliberate statement regarding His identity as He set His face steadfastly toward Jerusalem. He knew that He was fulfilling Old Testament prophecy from hundreds of years earlier: “Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your king is coming to you; righteous and having salvation is he, humble and mounted on a donkey” (Zechariah 9:9). John tells us that the crowds swelled as they watched Jesus ride through the city gates because they had recently seen Him raise Lazarus from the grave (John 12:17-18). There was doubtlessly tremendous interest not only in Lazarus himself but also in the one who had performed that great miracle. When they sang “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord” (Luke 19:38), they therefore sang with great expectation that their Savior was in their midst. Few would have thought that their praise would soon turn to jeers.

Even as He proclaims His messiahship in this grand entrance, we ought to notice that Jesus is also presenting Himself as the ruler who is “gentle and lowly in heart” (Matthew 11:29)—the King on a donkey. Nowhere else in Scripture do we see Jesus riding any beast of burden, and certainly not a colt. To be the rider of an unbroken colt would be uncomfortable at the least. Yet our all-powerful King demonstrated His perfect humility by doing exactly that.

Pause to ask yourself: What kind of king arrives on a donkey and then proceeds to wear a crown of thorns? What sort of humility does that require, and what sort of love would do that? Many in the crowd expected the Messiah to be a conquering, nationalist hero. That was why their enthusiasm for Jesus lasted only as long as He met their expectations. We need to be careful that we do not decide what sort of king Jesus should be for us and to us and then fling accusations at Him when He does not meet our demands. Instead, we must see Him as He is: the King who came to carry a cross, who calls you and me to do the same as we follow Him, and who promises us not a comfortable life now but an eternal one to come. Here is a better, gentler, humbler, more loving King than any our own imaginations could ever conceive of.

What we now call Palm Sunday was a crucial day in the most momentous week in the history of the entire world. Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem prior to His crucifixion appears in all four Gospels, each of which approaches it from a slightly different vantage point. A closer look at the various iterations of this story would show us the complexity of the social dynamics that may not be apparent in reading Luke’s account alone. Indeed, John’s Gospel tells us that even Jesus’ disciples didn’t understand the impact of His entry into Jerusalem until after the resurrection (John 12:16).

We see in Jesus’ triumphal entry a deliberate statement regarding His identity as He set His face steadfastly toward Jerusalem. He knew that He was fulfilling Old Testament prophecy from hundreds of years earlier: “Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your king is coming to you; righteous and having salvation is he, humble and mounted on a donkey” (Zechariah 9:9). John tells us that the crowds swelled as they watched Jesus ride through the city gates because they had recently seen Him raise Lazarus from the grave (John 12:17-18). There was doubtlessly tremendous interest not only in Lazarus himself but also in the one who had performed that great miracle. When they sang “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord” (Luke 19:38), they therefore sang with great expectation that their Savior was in their midst. Few would have thought that their praise would soon turn to jeers.

Even as He proclaims His messiahship in this grand entrance, we ought to notice that Jesus is also presenting Himself as the ruler who is “gentle and lowly in heart” (Matthew 11:29)—the King on a donkey. Nowhere else in Scripture do we see Jesus riding any beast of burden, and certainly not a colt. To be the rider of an unbroken colt would be uncomfortable at the least. Yet our all-powerful King demonstrated His perfect humility by doing exactly that.

Pause to ask yourself: What kind of king arrives on a donkey and then proceeds to wear a crown of thorns? What sort of humility does that require, and what sort of love would do that? Many in the crowd expected the Messiah to be a conquering, nationalist hero. That was why their enthusiasm for Jesus lasted only as long as He met their expectations. We need to be careful that we do not decide what sort of king Jesus should be for us and to us and then fling accusations at Him when He does not meet our demands. Instead, we must see Him as He is: the King who came to carry a cross, who calls you and me to do the same as we follow Him, and who promises us not a comfortable life now but an eternal one to come. Here is a better, gentler, humbler, more loving King than any our own imaginations could ever conceive of.