Palm Sunday: How Far Will You Follow
How Far Will You Follow? A Palm Sunday Reflection
The crowd surged forward, palm branches waving in the air like green flags of hope. Voices rose in unison: "Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!" It was a moment of collective excitement, anticipation hanging thick in the Jerusalem air. But within days, that same crowd would scatter like leaves in a storm.
Palm Sunday presents us with an uncomfortable question that echoes across the centuries: How far will we really follow Jesus?
The Gullible Heart
We live in an age of followers. Social media has turned "following" into a quantifiable metric—a number that supposedly measures influence, importance, or truth. The most followed person on social media today is an athlete with extraordinary talent for kicking a ball into a net. We follow pastors, politicians, sports teams, and trends with varying degrees of commitment and wildly different motivations.
But following Jesus? That's an entirely different proposition.
The crowds that followed Jesus into Jerusalem had their reasons. Some had witnessed the impossible—Lazarus, dead for days, walking out of his tomb alive and whole. This wasn't a viral video that might be faked or a rumor passed through unreliable channels. This was their neighbor, their friend, someone they had mourned and buried, now breathing and laughing among them again.
When you see a man raised from the dead, following the one who did it seems like the most logical thing in the world.
The Wrong Expectations
Yet many in that Palm Sunday crowd were following Jesus for the wrong reasons. They wanted a political savior, someone to overthrow Roman occupation and restore Israel's national independence. They saw in Jesus the heir to David's throne, and they expected him to claim it by force.
Their vision was too small.
They were thinking in terms of decades—a comfortable life, economic prosperity, freedom from foreign rule, and then eventually death. But Jesus came offering something infinitely larger: victory not just over Rome, but over sin, death, and the powers of darkness. Not just for seventy years, but for all eternity.
When Jesus was arrested, the crowd evaporated. Even Peter, who had sworn to follow Jesus to death itself, denied knowing him three times before the rooster crowed. The pressure was on, and suddenly following Jesus didn't seem worth the cost.
The Real Jesus
Perhaps we've been sold a false Jesus too. Maybe we've heard that following Jesus means following a set of rules that will make us respectable. Or perhaps we've been told that faith in Jesus will make all our troubles disappear, that every disease will be healed, every prayer answered exactly as we want.
That Jesus doesn't exist.
The real Jesus walked toward a cross. And when he invited people to follow him, he told them to pick up their own crosses too. He never promised comfort. He promised presence.
"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me." The promise isn't that we'll avoid the valley. The promise is that we won't walk through it alone.
Following Jesus doesn't mean he'll make our troubles go away. It means he'll walk with us through them, refining us, strengthening us, grinding off our sharp edges, and giving us a purpose bigger than ourselves. It means trading a life focused on our own comfort for a life that matters eternally.
When the Rocks Would Cry Out
On that first Palm Sunday, some religious leaders told Jesus to silence the crowd. His response was striking: "I tell you, if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out."
Why wait for the rocks to praise him? Why settle for silence when we have voices and lives that can proclaim the goodness of God?
The question isn't whether Jesus deserves our praise and our following. The question is whether we'll offer it, or whether we'll let the stones do what we were created to do.
The Crowd Returns
After Jesus was crucified, buried, and raised from the dead, after he ascended to heaven, something remarkable happened. At Pentecost, the crowd reappeared—but with different expectations.
They weren't looking for a political figure anymore. They had witnessed the Holy Spirit poured out just as Jesus promised. Three thousand people were baptized in a single day, not because they expected an easy life, but because they had encountered the living God who offered them victory in this life and eternal life to come.
These early followers faced persecution, imprisonment, and death. The Roman Empire didn't suddenly become kind to Christians. But they followed anyway, because they had discovered something worth living for—and worth dying for.
How Far Will You Follow?
It's easy to be critical of the disciples who ran away when Jesus was arrested. But would we show up to church if we knew there was a credible threat of violence against Christians? How far does our commitment really go?
The truth is, we often don't know what we're made of until the pressure is on. Pain, suffering, and danger have an incredible way of testing what we truly believe.
That's why it's crucial to ask ourselves now: Why do I follow Jesus? What are my expectations? Am I following the real Jesus who calls me to take up my cross, or am I following a comfortable version I've created in my own image?
Made for More
When life is all about us, it's far too small. Jesus offers a greater vision and a greater purpose than any of us can imagine on our own.
We weren't made to tend graves of past mistakes and old shame. We were called by name, raised to new life, made for something more. A fountain of grace is running our way. Why would we settle for anything less?
Following Jesus means walking into a life that's bigger than our own comfort, our own plans, our own understanding. It means trusting that the one who conquered death itself can be trusted with our lives—all of them, the painful parts and the joyful parts, the parts that make sense and the parts that don't.
The crowd on Palm Sunday got it wrong at first. But eventually, they got it right. They discovered that following Jesus wasn't about what he could do for their temporary comfort, but about who he is and what he offers for eternity.
The question remains for each of us: How far will we follow?
Palm Sunday presents us with an uncomfortable question that echoes across the centuries: How far will we really follow Jesus?
The Gullible Heart
We live in an age of followers. Social media has turned "following" into a quantifiable metric—a number that supposedly measures influence, importance, or truth. The most followed person on social media today is an athlete with extraordinary talent for kicking a ball into a net. We follow pastors, politicians, sports teams, and trends with varying degrees of commitment and wildly different motivations.
But following Jesus? That's an entirely different proposition.
The crowds that followed Jesus into Jerusalem had their reasons. Some had witnessed the impossible—Lazarus, dead for days, walking out of his tomb alive and whole. This wasn't a viral video that might be faked or a rumor passed through unreliable channels. This was their neighbor, their friend, someone they had mourned and buried, now breathing and laughing among them again.
When you see a man raised from the dead, following the one who did it seems like the most logical thing in the world.
The Wrong Expectations
Yet many in that Palm Sunday crowd were following Jesus for the wrong reasons. They wanted a political savior, someone to overthrow Roman occupation and restore Israel's national independence. They saw in Jesus the heir to David's throne, and they expected him to claim it by force.
Their vision was too small.
They were thinking in terms of decades—a comfortable life, economic prosperity, freedom from foreign rule, and then eventually death. But Jesus came offering something infinitely larger: victory not just over Rome, but over sin, death, and the powers of darkness. Not just for seventy years, but for all eternity.
When Jesus was arrested, the crowd evaporated. Even Peter, who had sworn to follow Jesus to death itself, denied knowing him three times before the rooster crowed. The pressure was on, and suddenly following Jesus didn't seem worth the cost.
The Real Jesus
Perhaps we've been sold a false Jesus too. Maybe we've heard that following Jesus means following a set of rules that will make us respectable. Or perhaps we've been told that faith in Jesus will make all our troubles disappear, that every disease will be healed, every prayer answered exactly as we want.
That Jesus doesn't exist.
The real Jesus walked toward a cross. And when he invited people to follow him, he told them to pick up their own crosses too. He never promised comfort. He promised presence.
"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me." The promise isn't that we'll avoid the valley. The promise is that we won't walk through it alone.
Following Jesus doesn't mean he'll make our troubles go away. It means he'll walk with us through them, refining us, strengthening us, grinding off our sharp edges, and giving us a purpose bigger than ourselves. It means trading a life focused on our own comfort for a life that matters eternally.
When the Rocks Would Cry Out
On that first Palm Sunday, some religious leaders told Jesus to silence the crowd. His response was striking: "I tell you, if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out."
Why wait for the rocks to praise him? Why settle for silence when we have voices and lives that can proclaim the goodness of God?
The question isn't whether Jesus deserves our praise and our following. The question is whether we'll offer it, or whether we'll let the stones do what we were created to do.
The Crowd Returns
After Jesus was crucified, buried, and raised from the dead, after he ascended to heaven, something remarkable happened. At Pentecost, the crowd reappeared—but with different expectations.
They weren't looking for a political figure anymore. They had witnessed the Holy Spirit poured out just as Jesus promised. Three thousand people were baptized in a single day, not because they expected an easy life, but because they had encountered the living God who offered them victory in this life and eternal life to come.
These early followers faced persecution, imprisonment, and death. The Roman Empire didn't suddenly become kind to Christians. But they followed anyway, because they had discovered something worth living for—and worth dying for.
How Far Will You Follow?
It's easy to be critical of the disciples who ran away when Jesus was arrested. But would we show up to church if we knew there was a credible threat of violence against Christians? How far does our commitment really go?
The truth is, we often don't know what we're made of until the pressure is on. Pain, suffering, and danger have an incredible way of testing what we truly believe.
That's why it's crucial to ask ourselves now: Why do I follow Jesus? What are my expectations? Am I following the real Jesus who calls me to take up my cross, or am I following a comfortable version I've created in my own image?
Made for More
When life is all about us, it's far too small. Jesus offers a greater vision and a greater purpose than any of us can imagine on our own.
We weren't made to tend graves of past mistakes and old shame. We were called by name, raised to new life, made for something more. A fountain of grace is running our way. Why would we settle for anything less?
Following Jesus means walking into a life that's bigger than our own comfort, our own plans, our own understanding. It means trusting that the one who conquered death itself can be trusted with our lives—all of them, the painful parts and the joyful parts, the parts that make sense and the parts that don't.
The crowd on Palm Sunday got it wrong at first. But eventually, they got it right. They discovered that following Jesus wasn't about what he could do for their temporary comfort, but about who he is and what he offers for eternity.
The question remains for each of us: How far will we follow?
Posted in Easter 2026
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