Episode 278: Behold, Our Gentle King | Dave Sloop | Palm Sunday

Introduction

Thank you, Babs. Well, that was the cutest baptism ever. Did you see young Weed as he stood here, and they were praying for him, and he heard one click of the camera and went, did you guys see that? It was the best. Please, could that please be the bulletin next week?

We are looking at the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem from Matthew 21, and I want to begin this morning where our passage ends. I don't know if you caught that, but at the end of the passage, in verse 10, it says, The crowd was stirred and they asked themselves, who is this? Who is this?

This is a familiar question throughout the gospels, and maybe you'll recognize some of the places where this has been asked before. In Mark chapter four, we see Jesus in a boat with his disciples battling a life-threatening storm that comes up out of nowhere. The disciples are afraid for their lives. They wake Jesus up, who’s sleeping in the boat, and it says, immediately he wakes up, he rebukes the wind and he says to the waves, quiet, be still. And it was completely calm.

Do you know what the disciples said? Who is this? Who is this that even the wind and the waves obey?

Skip ahead, Luke chapter five. Four friends bring a paralyzed man to Jesus, but they couldn't get to him because of the crowd. So they made an opening in the roof of the house where Jesus was teaching. They lowered the man to his feet, and Jesus, seeing their faith, looks at the man and he looks right past his paralyzed legs into his heart and says, your sins are forgiven.

And the Pharisees standing by hear this, and they say, who is this who speaks such blasphemy? Who can forgive sins but God alone?

Two chapters later, in Luke seven, a woman with a bad reputation—everybody knew who she was—an immoral, sinful woman comes into the house where Jesus was hanging out with some Pharisees. She breaks a bottle of perfume and pours it on Jesus. She sits at his feet weeping, wets his feet with her tears, and dries his feet with her hair. She worships him.

Jesus receives it and then he forgives her sins. He says, your sins are forgiven. And the people there, in the same way as Luke five, say, who is this who even forgives sins?

Then in Luke nine, Jesus has sent his disciples out. He's given them authority over the evil spirits of the spiritual realm. He's also given them power to heal, to drive out sickness and disease. The disciples go out, proclaiming the coming of the kingdom and healing people, and word gets back to Herod.

You know what he says? He says, I beheaded John the Baptist. Who is this? And then here in Matthew 21, the crowd is stirred. Who is this? And what’s interesting about that question is that every time it’s asked, what precedes it is Jesus speaking and acting as if he is God himself. And it prompts the people to ask, who is this?

This is the question that the gospel writers set out to answer. Take it a step further—this is the question that the whole counsel of God's word sets out to answer. Who is this?

Did you know he is the focal point of all scripture? The Old Testament tells us that he's coming. The gospels tell us that he's here. The epistles spell out the implications of his life, death, and resurrection. And the book of Revelation says he's coming back. Who is this?

You know, the Bible— the whole Bible— Jesus is the focal point. But you know what else? I would suggest to us this morning that this is also the central question of every human heart. Who is this?

See, there’s not one human being that has lived that has not at some point asked the question, does God exist? And if he does, what is he like? And consequently, what does that have to do with me?

Here in Matthew 21, we are going to see all three answers to those questions. Does God exist? What is he like? And what does that have to do with me?

We’re going to see the nature of our king. We’ll see the character of our king. And we’ll see the implications of his kingdom in my life. What is it going to cost me? What is the cost of his kingship?

The Triumphal Entry and Its Significance

Let's take a look at Matthew 21, starting in verse one, and here's what we see:

As they approached Jerusalem and came to Bethphage, on the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, go to the village ahead of you, and at once you will find a donkey tied there with her colt by her. Untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, tell him that the Lord needs them and he will send them right away.

This took place to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet. Now let me set the scene here. Jesus is coming into town, into Jerusalem. It’s the feast of Passover, which meant lots of people were traveling to Jerusalem.

In fact, Jerusalem was a city that normally had a population of about 100,000 to 200,000, but during Passover, the population would swell to nearly two and a half million people. It was like the Olympics coming to town. It was huge.

And Jesus stops, recognizing that they got a big crowd in Jerusalem. He stops and sends two of his disciples to run an errand because he says, I’m about to make an entrance. I want people to know that I’m here.

Now, does this sound like the Jesus we've been following in the gospels? It does not. Look at me drawing attention to himself. This is different than how he normally behaves.

In Acts, we’ve caught glimpses of Jesus’ true identity, where his divinity almost spills out. But we see just as many instances of Jesus wanting to keep the lid on it, to conceal it.

It’s why in John chapter two, when Mary comes to him at a wedding and there's a shortage of wine, she looks at the servants, and he says to her, do whatever he tells you. And he goes, woman, why do you involve me? My hour has not yet come. It’s not time yet.

In Mark chapter one, he heals the leper and tells him, don’t tell anybody who did this. At certain times, his disciples rightly identify his true nature, and he tells them, don’t tell.

See, it wasn’t time yet—that’s why he almost wanted to conceal his identity. But for our purposes today, the main reason is that as soon as Jesus went public with his identity, it would lead to tremendous political and religious resistance.

In fact, in John chapter 11, after Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead, it’s like the straw that broke the camel’s back. The religious leaders call everybody together, saying, we’ve got to stop this. If we let him continue, Rome will come in and take away our temple and our power. He must be put to death.

What we see here at the beginning of Matthew 21 is that the mask’s about to come off. Jesus is about to let everyone know who he really is. His hour has come.

When I was living in Texas that Easter, I decided to come home and surprise my parents. My whole life, I lived about twenty minutes from home. Now I was over twenty hours from home, and I thought it would be fun to surprise them.

So I hopped in the car, made the trek across the country, and pulled up to my front door. I was disguised. I had a wig on, a hat, glasses, false teeth. I was a Young Life leader, had all this stuff in my trunk. I bought this maintenance shirt from Goodwill, and I went to knock on the door. My mom answered; she had no clue. She wasn’t expecting to see me.

And I told her, you know, that I’d come on some hard times, I was looking for work, is there anything I can do around the house? Maybe work in the yard? My sweet mom, she was trying to be so polite as she rejected this poor man who’d come on hard times.

And as she’s talking, I took off my glasses and listened. She double-took, like, I think I know him, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Then I took out the teeth, took off the wig, and her jaw dropped, all her joys fulfilled—her perfect son had come home.

Here in Matthew 21, Jesus is about to take off the mask. The perfect Son has come home to take his rightful place as the King.

So what does Jesus do? He tells two disciples to go get him a donkey. There’s going to be a donkey in town. But not just any donkey—he wants a baby donkey, the colt, the foal of a donkey.

But he says, not just any baby donkey, I want you to go get me a stinky, stanky, lanky, honky-tonky, winky-wonky donkey. Does anybody know that children’s story? Sorry, that went over just about as well at 8:30.

I asked Libby, my daughter, should I tell this joke? And she said, too risky, don’t do that. I did it anyway.

What Jesus actually said is, go get a donkey, and in Luke's account, he says, go get a donkey that nobody has ever ridden. A baby donkey that no one has ever ridden.

Why is that significant? Because you can’t ride an unbroken baby donkey, an untrained colt. You can’t do it. If you sit on that donkey’s back, it’s going to throw you to the ground.

But for some reason, when Jesus sits on its back, it leads him exactly where he wants to go. Why? Because he is the one who rebuked the wind and the waves and told them to be still, and they listened.

All of creation bends to the will of its master, and that’s precisely what Jesus is. And as he rides into town on a donkey, the scene screams, I am the king over all creation. One day, everything will bend to my will. Every knee shall bow, every tongue shall confess. Lions will lie down with lambs, and sin will be no more. I am the King of all creation.

But it’s not just what Jesus rides in on; it’s what the people say, too. Listen to what they say here in verse nine:

The crowds that went ahead of him and those that followed shouted, Hosanna to the Son of David, Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest.

The word Hosanna simply meant pray, save us, please, Son of David. Now, Jesus had many titles—teacher, Lord, master—but perhaps no title more clearly pointed to his true nature than Son of David.

We could take an entire sermon series to unpack the origins and implications of this title, but let me just touch on it briefly.

Son of David, one day there was a coming King. He would come from the line of David, and he would sit upon a throne, and his reign would never end.

Isaiah 9:6 says, this:

The entire government will be upon his shoulders, and we shall call him: Wonderful Counselor, Prince of Peace.

Those are pretty prestigious titles, but then listen to these: almighty God, everlasting Father.

Make no mistake, when they cried out, Hosanna, Son of David, what they were saying is, God himself has come to visit his people. It was so clear, it was such an offense to the religious leaders that day, in Luke's account, they say to Jesus, do you hear what they're saying? Tell them to be quiet.

But Jesus responds, if they are silent, the rocks will cry out, why? Because I am. I am the king.

See, modern Western Christianity would love to rob Jesus of his divinity. But Matthew, Mark, Luke, John will not let you do it.

In fact, Matthew’s book is 28 chapters, and eight of them are dedicated to the last seven days of his life. In John’s gospel, the last 50% of his book— the last half of Jesus’ life— is about that same period.

Why? Because that is where Jesus declares, I’m the king. No question. The cat is out of the bag. The mask is off. I am God. Deal with it.

The Nature and Character of the King

Now that is his nature: he is our God. He is our King. But we also see what his character is.

Let's look at verse five: it quotes the prophet Zechariah, which says, say to the daughter of Zion, see your King comes to you gentle and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.

Your king is coming to you gentle. Is this what you expect to hear when you hear King? He's not coming on a war horse or a steed, he's coming on a humble, lowly animal.

See, that title King—power, strength, authority—those are true, but he’s also gentle, meek, lowly. He’s the unexpected King.

He is the King, but he’s not the king that you would expect. Mark 10:45 puts it this way: even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve and give his life as a ransom.

In John 13, during these last seven days of his life, Jesus, knowing that all authority had been given to him, that he came from the Father, and that he was returning to the Father, got up, took off his outer garment, filled a basin with water, and washed his disciples' feet.

How much authority did Jesus have? All of it. He was the King. What did he do with his authority? He served. He came gentle.

He’s the king but the unexpected king. And the disciples kept missing it. They didn’t see it coming.

In John 14, right after he washes their feet, he famously says: I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.

In verse eight, Philip responds: Jesus, you’ve been talking about God, the Father. If we could just see him—if you could just show us—that would be enough for us.

You can hear the heart behind Philip’s question. He’s saying, we just want to know what he’s like. Can you show us? It literally says, could you just show us?

Listen to Jesus’ shocking response: Philip, have you been with me this long and still don’t know? If you have seen me, you have seen God.

The realization of the incarnation—of God in the person of Jesus Christ—is this: we don’t ever have to wonder what God is like.

Colossians 1:15 says: He is the image of the invisible God.

In other words, if you want to know what God looks like, look at Jesus. If you want to know what kind of power God has, watch what he can do.

If you want to know what God thinks about life, listen to Jesus. And if you want to know how God feels about people—about you and me—just watch how he treats them.

He is, Hebrews 1:3, the radiance of God's glory, and the exact representation of his being.

If you’ve seen me, Jesus said, you’ve seen God.

And that’s just not what anyone thought was coming. Maybe they thought he would be like the religious leaders. He was nothing like them. They couldn’t stand him.

They had a nickname for Jesus: “friend of sinners.” They meant it as an insult, but I like to think he wore that as a badge.

He was the broken, outcast sinner who felt so loved, embraced, and accepted by Jesus.

He was nothing like the religious leaders. Maybe they expected a judge who would come and make sure everybody obeyed—probably not expecting what he did in John 2, when he created more wine so the party could keep going. I’m not suggesting Jesus advocates drunkenness, but what I am saying is that a God primarily concerned about rules probably wouldn’t do that.

Maybe he cared more about relationships than about rules.

I’ve worked with high school kids for nearly two decades, and still work with our youth here at CHS. It’s my experience that most kids think Jesus was boring, irrelevant. But Jesus started a revolution.

Before social media, before announcements or flyers, he would just show up—and thousands would come to listen.

Boring people don’t draw crowds. I bet he was funny. I bet he had a great sense of humor. I bet that when he started talking, people just kind of scooched to the edge of their seat, eager not to miss what he had to say.

And by the way, don’t confuse Jesus’ gentleness with weakness. Jesus was strong.

He flipped over the tables in the temple when he saw injustice and called it “my house.”

He told the wind and the waves, be quiet—and they listened.

He never backed down from an argument. He was always under attack by the religious authorities.

He stood up for the little guy, like the woman caught in adultery—even when it cost him his reputation.

Jesus was a strong leader, but he was also gentle.

Remember the disciples tried to keep the little kids from coming to Jesus because they thought he wouldn’t have time? He said, let them come.

They climbed up in his lap. He was strong, but gentle.

He was busy, but never in a hurry.

He was popular, comfortable with the spotlight, but he didn’t need it.

He never let it go to his head.

Surrounded by crowds of people, he always saw individuals.

He was perfect.

You know, we often use that word—perfect—to describe Jesus, usually talking about his moral record: he observed God’s law perfectly. That’s true. But have you ever considered that he was humanity perfected?

He was God’s perfect display of what we all wish we could be.

The perfect blend of power and peace, of boldness and humility, of truth and grace.

There’s a verse in Isaiah 53 that suggests Jesus wasn’t all that handsome, but he was beautiful. He was irresistibly attractive.

If he were here today, we would be drawn to his presence.

That’s the nature of our King. That’s the character of our King: he’s God, and he’s perfect.

The Implications for Us

But what does that have to do with you and me? What are the implications of his authority, of his kingship, in our lives?

When he came to town that day, it was a line in the sand moment.

When you come into town and say, I am the king of all creation, it changes the conversation.

You can’t hear that and be neutral anymore.

Either you submit and bow to his authority that he claims to have, or you resist his authority and become his enemy. You can’t just be in the middle.

It’s very polarizing what he said.

Tim Keller puts it this way: when Jesus comes into town, it’s as if he’s saying, you can crown me or you can kill me, but you can’t just like me.

What’s interesting is that the people shouting Hosanna, save us now, a few days later were shouting crucify him.

It’s a chilling display of human fickleness.

And the question is: why the sudden change?

How did they flip-flop so quickly?

The answer is that when Jesus came into town and they shouted, save us, they meant save us from Rome. Deliver us from oppression. Save us on their terms—save us the way they wanted.

But Jesus came not to save them from Rome, but to deal with the greater enemy—the unseen enemy, sin and death.

When they realized he wouldn’t deliver them from Rome, they turned. They shouted crucify him.

And that’s what it means to come under his authority: trusting him even when it doesn’t make sense, even when it hurts, even when our life isn’t panning out the way we think it should.

I think of Dan and Nancy sitting in front of you now, listening to worship amid their struggles. That’s a picture of trusting when life doesn’t turn out as we hoped.

Joel and Ankleer, the same could be said of you.

Tim Keller, one of my all-time favorite quotes: he says, what we find when we trust him is that Jesus is giving us what we would have asked for if we knew what he knows.

If we had his perspective, he’s giving us what we would have asked for. That’s hard to understand, but we can trust the character of our king.

And can I tell you something else? It will cost us to acknowledge his authority.

The question isn't, is he the king? He’s the king. The question is, will we submit to his authority?

It will hurt sometimes to trust him. But it cost him more to become our king.

When he entered Jerusalem that day, he went through the Eastern Gate. Do you know what that gate was called? The Sheep's Gate.

It’s the gate all the sheep would come through to be sacrificed at the temple. Their fate was sealed, their destiny secured—they wouldn’t come back.

And when Jesus walked through that gate, he became the fulfillment of every Passover lamb before him. They all pointed to the perfect Passover Lamb—that one day would come, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.

Jesus came to take away our sin.

Can we trust a King like that? We can trust him. We do trust him.

In Romans 8:32, Paul says: He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?

The logic is simple: if God gave us his Son, we can trust him with everything else.

What am I battling right now in my life? Does it seem upside down, backwards? Maybe it doesn’t make sense. Maybe it’s not how I expected it.

But we look back to the cross. We see that his heart is good. His heart is for us. We trust the king.

Jesus died for us; he took the death we deserve so that we might inherit what he deserved.

We can trust him. This is our king. This is the nature of our king. He’s God, and his character is perfect, and he died that we might know him.

You can trust him.

Prayer and Invitation

Let’s pray. And as always, these curved rails in front of me are for you to come and interact with God in whatever way he's moving in your heart.

Don’t miss this opportunity. Maybe you’ve been resisting his authority like an unbroken, untrained colt. Today, you’d come like the master sitting on his back and say, I’m done fighting. I trust you. You can be trusted.

Maybe there are some here today who have never trusted Christ. You realize you’ve been on the wrong side of that line in the sand. Maybe you’ve been trying to be saved on your own terms, hoping for a genie in a bottle rather than trusting a king who comes gentle and ready to forgive.

He is the King who says, Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest. For I am gentle and lowly of heart.

The straight rails over here are for those who want to pray or talk with someone about faith in Christ. It would be our sincere hope and prayer today that you might find new faith in Jesus.

It’s in His name we pray. Amen.