A procession of palms; a parade of ‘hosannas’-turned-chorus of ‘crucify him.’ In between, there’s a solemn but significant meal in an upper room, followed by a moonlit prayer in the ominous shadows of an olive grove. And then the unthinkable on Friday—that bloody cross and a flagellated Christ weaving their way through the Via Dolorosa to the Place of the Skull (Golgotha) and then, two days later, the early morning darkness on Sunday.

At first blush, the events of Holy Week seem so heavy and other-worldly. If we’re not careful, we can pigeonhole ourselves into a role akin to mere spectators, staring from cozy balcony seats, gawking at some faraway scene for which we play no real part in the story. It’s an appealing posture to assume, for sure. It’s sanitary and safe, but it isn’t realistic. No, it’s much riskier than that. Rewind and look a little closer:

“[Jesus] sent two of the disciples saying, ‘Go into the village ahead of you…untie the colt…and bring it here. (Lk. 19:29)

“Go into the city to a certain man and say to him, ‘The Teacher says My time is near; I will keep the Passover at your house with my disciples.’ So the disciples did…and they prepared the Passover meal.” (Matt. 26:17)

Later in the garden of Gethsemane, Jesus said to them, “Stay awake and pray that you may not come into the time of trial.” (Matt. 26:41)

“As they led Jesus away, they seized a man, Simon of Cyrene…and they laid the cross on him and made him carry it behind Jesus.” (Lk. 23:26).

“Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb.” (Jn. 20:1)

Could you track a trend? Indeed, it’s a minor detail we conveniently crop out of the Easter picture: The preparations of people always seem to preempt the power of God.

Don’t miss this: The divine trappings of Holy Week are curiously, yet splendidly woven into human movements that are hopelessly habitual: 

“Go ahead of me—untie and bring. Go, prepare, stay awake, and pray. Pick up a cross and follow. Get up, and commit to walking while it’s still dark. Despite the grit, go ahead and go anyways.”

Then and now, the revelation of God seems to follow the preparations of people…people not unlike you and me. And so we walk with nine teenaged confirmands on Sunday evenings and we’re waiting with and watching out for grieving, hurting families, and we’re serving food to over 140 elementary students in two local schools every week, and we’re sending support to war-torn areas of Ukraine and fire-charred regions of California. We’ve prayed over, sacrificed for, and partnered with students of Living Hope High School in Bungoma, Kenya for a brighter tomorrow. These are some of the many ways we’re heralding the Good News of a Risen Jesus.  

We’re not called as ones who stand on the sidelines and spectate. We’re called to pick up a cross and follow, to walk while it’s still dark. Why? Because Easter isn’t a day, it’s our identity…and we know Who shows up when we go ahead in faith. Disciples of Jesus are never sent alone. Won’t you go ahead and join us?

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