by Revd Canon Rob Penrith
There is something DISTINCTLY CONTRADICTORY and unsettling about Palm Sunday—though at first glance it CERTAINLY feels triumphant. Picture the waving branches, a cheering crowd, cloaks laid down like a royal carpet. It looks like victory TO ME!. It feels like the moment everything finally turns in Jesus’ favour.
And yet, we know better.
These same voices that cry “Hosanna!” will soon cry “Crucify!” The same city that welcomes Him will reject Him. Palm Sunday is not simply a celebration—it is a revelation. It reveals how easily we can misunderstand the ways of God.
But there’s something surprising going on—something easy to miss. At the centre of the scene is a strange and easily overlooked detail: a donkey.
JESUS KNOCKS THE OPPOSITION A BIT as He does not enter Jerusalem on a warhorse, the symbol of conquest and power. He comes riding on a borrowed donkey—an animal of humility, even vulnerability. This is not BECAUSE THERE WERE NO HORSES AVAILABLE. It is a deliberate fulfilment of prophecy (Zechariah 9:9), but more than that, it is a statement about the nature of His kingdom.
He is a King—but not the kind THAT WAS EXPECTED.
The crowd, you see, had its own expectations. They shout “Hosanna,” which means “Save us now!” It is both praise and plea. But THINK ABOUT THIS carefully: they are asking for a particular kind of salvation. They want liberation from Rome, relief from oppression, a visible, immediate triumph. They want a king who will take control, assert power, and set things right on their terms.
And Jesus WILL HAVE NOTHING OF THAT and simply refuses BY WORD AND DEED.
He accepts their praise but not their agenda. He receives their welcome but not their assumptions. He will indeed bring salvation—but not through domination, not through force, and not on their timeline.
This is where Palm Sunday begins to turn the mirror toward us.
We, too, welcome Jesus—often warmly, sincerely, even passionately. But we are not always aware of the expectations we place upon Him. We want Him to fix what troubles us, to resolve what we fear, to act in ways that make sense to us. We want a Saviour who aligns with our plans.
And when He does not?
Disappointment can quietly take root. Praise can fade. Faith can become conditional.
Palm Sunday asks a searching question: Do we welcome Jesus as He is, or only as we wish Him to be?
The donkey tells us that Jesus comes in gentleness, not coercion. The tears He later sheds over Jerusalem tell us that He is not indifferent to our pain, but neither will He override our freedom. The cross that lies ahead tells us that His victory will come through surrender, not strength—through sacrifice, not spectacle.
This is the kind of King we are invited to follow.
It is worth noticing that Jesus does not avoid the crowd. He rides straight into the noise, the misunderstanding, the misplaced hopes. He does not wait for perfect clarity before offering Himself. There is REAL grace in that. He meets people where they are—even when they do not fully understand Him OR EVEN WHERE THEY ARE IN RELATION TO HIM.
And perhaps that is where many of us find ourselves this Palm Sunday.
We may carry mixed motives, half-formed faith, unspoken expectations. We may sing “Hosanna” while still hoping for a different kind of answer to our prayers. Yet Jesus still comes—gently, steadily, faithfully.
But He does not leave us unchanged.
Palm Sunday invites us to lay down more than palm branches. It invites us to lay down our assumptions, our demands, our need to control the outcome. It calls us to trust that God’s way—even when it leads through suffering—is ultimately the way of life.
Yours in Christ Jesus,
Rob