by Eron Henry | Apr 13, 2025 | Lent 2025
Palm Sunday marks the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem, an event recorded in all four Gospels. As Jesus rode into the city on a donkey, crowds spread palm branches and garments on the road, shouting “Hosanna!” and welcoming Him as the long-awaited Messiah. This moment of jubilation inaugurates Holy Week and sets in motion the events leading to Christ’s passion and resurrection.
Palm Sunday embodies a stark paradox—a triumph that leads to apparent defeat before culminating in ultimate victory. Jesus enters Jerusalem not as a conquering military leader on a warhorse but mounted on a donkey, fulfilling Zechariah’s prophecy: “See, Your king comes to You, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey” (Zechariah 9:9). This deliberate choice reveals Christ’s kingdom as one established through humility and peace rather than dominance and violence.
The palms themselves carry rich symbolism. In ancient tradition, palm branches represented victory and were used to welcome returning conquerors. Yet here, they herald a victory that will come through surrender, a conquest achieved through sacrifice. The crowds’ acclamation of “Hosanna” (meaning “save now”) takes on multilayered significance—a plea Jesus will answer, but in ways radically different from their expectations.
Perhaps most striking is the fickle nature of human acclaim revealed in this narrative. Similar crowds that shout “Hosanna!” will, within days, cry “Crucify Him!” This dramatic reversal illuminates the fragility of popularity and the depth of Christ’s commitment to divine purpose rather than public approval.
Palm Sunday offers a powerful critique of triumphalism and superficial faith. It challenges communities to examine whether they seek a Messiah who conforms to their expectations or are willing to follow Christ’s counterintuitive path of servant leadership and sacrificial love.
The reenactment of the palm procession invites contemporary believers into an embodied practice of discipleship, physically moving behind Christ, allowing our bodies to enact what our hearts must learn. As we wave palms and sing “Hosanna,” we participate in a tradition that simultaneously celebrates Christ’s kingship while acknowledging that His throne is the cross.
In our polarized society, Palm Sunday offers wisdom about the nature of true leadership and lasting change. Jesus’ entry models authority exercised through humility rather than force, influence wielded through service rather than dominance. This vision challenges political and cultural systems built on power over others rather than power with and for others.
Jesus’ biblical narrative also speaks to our media-saturated culture’s tendency toward momentary enthusiasm without sustained commitment. It reminds us that meaningful transformation, whether personal, communal, or societal—requires moving beyond symbolic gestures to the difficult work of following Christ’s example, even when the path leads through suffering toward new life.
Prayer
King of Peace who rides on a donkey, as we raise our palms and sing our praise, align our hearts with Your humble way.
When we seek triumph without sacrifice, when we desire crowns without crosses, remind us of Your paradoxical path—That true victory comes through surrender, that authentic power flows from service, that lasting change emerges from love.
Guard us from fleeting enthusiasm, from “Hosannas” quickly forgotten. Instead, grant us courage to follow You through this Holy Week’s unfolding drama, from triumph to table, from garden to trial, from cross to tomb to resurrection dawn.
Shape us into disciples whose praise endures, whose commitment transcends circumstance, whose lives proclaim Your kingdom Not merely with waving branches, but with hands extended in justice and compassion, with feet that walk steadfastly in Your way.
Hosanna in the highest! Blessed is the One who comes in the name of the Lord!
Amen.
by Eron Henry | Apr 12, 2025 | Lent 2025
The Gospel of John boldly declares that “the Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us” (John 1:14), establishing continuity between the divine Logos present at creation and the human Jesus of Nazareth. This incarnation answers humanity’s perennial question: What is God really like? In Christ, abstract theological concepts about divine attributes find concrete expression in a human life. God’s power and will become accessible and interpretable through Jesus’ teachings, actions, relationships, and ultimate self-giving.
As the writer of Colossians affirms, “He is the image of the invisible God” (Colossians 1:15), suggesting that when we see Jesus, we see the Creator’s true face. The same divine power that spoke the universe into existence now expresses itself through healing touches, authoritative teachings, compassionate encounters, and ultimately, redemptive suffering.
In Jesus, divine power manifests not primarily through cosmic demonstrations but through transformative presence. The Creator’s omnipotence is channeled into specific acts of restoration—sight to the blind, dignity to the outcast, community to the isolated, forgiveness to the condemned. This represents not a diminishment of divine power but its most authentic expression, revealing that God’s highest purpose is not domination but relationship and reconciliation.
Perhaps most profoundly, the cross and resurrection reveal the Creator’s will to absorb the consequences of creation’s brokenness rather than imposing judgment from a distance. As Karl Barth observed, God’s omnipotence is most fully displayed not in abstract capacity to do anything, but in the freedom to determine what kind of power to exercise, the power of self-giving love.
The incarnation establishes continuity between the Creator’s original intentions and ultimate purposes. The same divine will that called forth light from darkness now shines “in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ” (2 Corinthians 4:6). Jesus represents not a divine afterthought or emergency response but the fulfillment of creation’s trajectory, the revelation that God’s creative power has always been directed toward communion.
This perspective transforms our understanding of both creation and redemption, revealing them as complementary expressions of the same divine character. The God who delighted in bringing forth biodiversity and cosmic complexity is the same God who enters human particularity to initiate new creation from within.
Prayer
Eternal Creator, revealed in Jesus, You who shaped galaxies have shaped Yourself into human form, translating divine power into a language we could comprehend.
We stand in wonder before this mystery, that Your omnipotence finds fullest expression not in cosmic displays of force, but in a servant’s touch, a teacher’s wisdom, a healer’s compassion, a savior’s sacrifice.
Open our eyes to recognize Your true face, that when we look upon Jesus, we might see not merely a historical figure, but the very heart of the universe made visible.
Reshape our understanding of power by the pattern of Christ’s life—power that lifts up rather than dominates, power that restores rather than controls, power that connects rather than coerces.
As bearers of Your image, may we reflect the same creative will that we see in Jesus, to heal what is broken, to welcome what is marginalized, to forgive what seems unforgivable, to create new possibilities where hope seems lost.
Through Christ, who reveals Your glory.
Amen.
by Eron Henry | Apr 11, 2025 | Lent 2025
When Jesus proclaimed, “The kingdom of God has come near” (Mark 1:15), he was announcing not merely a spiritual reality but an alternative social ordering with concrete implications. This kingdom operates by principles that consistently invert prevailing wisdom: the first shall be last; true greatness comes through service; abundance emerges through sharing rather than hoarding; enemies are to be loved rather than conquered.
The Beatitudes (Matthew 5:3-12) perhaps most clearly articulate this alternative ordering. Those typically considered disadvantaged—the poor in spirit, the meek, those who mourn, those who hunger for justice—are declared blessed. This represents not merely a reversal of fortune but a fundamental reordering of what constitutes the good life, challenging acquisitive economics, competitive hierarchies, and retributive justice.
This alternative ordering was not merely taught by Jesus but embodied in His life. The incarnation itself—God entering human vulnerability rather than remaining in splendid isolation—models relationship over detachment, solidarity over superiority. Jesus’ table fellowship with social outcasts, His prioritization of mercy over ritual purity, His willingness to touch the untouchable, all demonstrate a radical reordering of human community around inclusion rather than exclusion.
Most dramatically, Christ’s journey to the cross reveals a God who refuses to participate in cycles of violence, choosing instead to absorb violence without retaliation. This represents not divine powerlessness but an alternative form of power that transforms rather than dominates, that reconciles rather than conquers.
This alternative ordering challenges both individual lives and communal structures. For individuals, it invites a reorientation of priorities, from achievement to faithfulness, from self-protection to vulnerable love, from fear-based security to trust-based generosity.
For communities and institutions, Christ’s alternative offers prophetic critique of systems built on domination, exclusion, and exploitation. It suggests that human flourishing emerges not through competitive individualism but through practices of mutuality, not through accumulation but through equitable distribution, not through hierarchies of worth but through recognition of universal dignity.
The church, when faithful to its calling, exists as a community experimenting with this alternative ordering, not merely as a spiritual refuge but as a laboratory for different ways of structuring economic relationships, resolving conflicts, exercising authority, and creating belonging across social divides.
Prayer
Disruptive God, revealed in Jesus, You who turned water to wine also turn our expectations upside down, our hierarchies inside out, our certainties into questions.
We confess how deeply we have internalized the world’s ordering of things, where worth is measured by productivity, where security comes through control, where success means rising above others, where happiness is found in accumulation.
By Your Spirit, reorder our desires according to Christ’s strange wisdom: that true wealth lies in giving, that authentic greatness flows from service, that lasting security rests in trust, that joy abounds in communion.
Make us courageous enough to experiment with Your alternative ordering in our personal choices, in our family dynamics, in our economic decisions, in our communal structures.
When we are tempted to return to the familiar patterns of power and privilege, remind us of the One who took a towel and basin, who touched lepers and loved enemies, who forgave executioners and welcomed outcasts, revealing in each action Your vision for human flourishing.
May our lives become parables of Your kingdom, imperfect but authentic witnesses to the better way revealed in Jesus Christ.
Amen.
by Eron Henry | Apr 10, 2025 | Lent 2025
The resurrection of Jesus Christ creates a new social reality. When early Christians proclaimed “He is risen,” they weren’t merely asserting a supernatural event but announcing the inauguration of God’s renewed world operating according to resurrection principles rather than the scarcity and self-protection that characterize fallen existence.
This resurrection faith naturally flows into practices of generosity and compassion. We see this connection clearly in the earliest Christian communities described in Acts, where believers “had all things in common” and “there was not a needy person among them” (Acts 4:32-34). This wasn’t incidental to their faith but a direct expression of resurrection conviction. Death’s defeat undermines the fear-based economics of accumulation and self-preservation.
If God has conquered death—our ultimate limitation—then limitations of resources need not govern our relationships with others. Resurrection faith liberates us from the anxiety that drives hoarding and indifference. If God’s abundance has overcome death’s scarcity, believers can risk generosity without fear of depletion.
This connection appears particularly in Paul’s collection for Jerusalem’s poor. He grounds this financial appeal not in guilt or obligation but in Christological generosity: “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich” (2 Corinthians 8:9). Christ’s self-emptying movement from life through death to resurrection establishes the pattern for Christian generosity.
What makes resurrection-inspired compassion distinctive is its hopeful character. Unlike compassion driven by mere sympathy or social obligation, Christian generosity flows from conviction about ultimate reality, that God’s life-giving power has overcome death’s hold. This gives compassionate action a particular quality that combines present engagement with future hope.
Resurrection faith thus creates a community marked by what we might call “eschatological economics,” practices of sharing and care that anticipate the world’s ultimate restoration. The believer’s generosity becomes not just an ethical response but a proclamation that death and scarcity no longer have the final word.
In a world still deeply marked by fear, accumulation, and indifference, resurrection-shaped generosity is a powerful witness that another reality is possible where abundance rather than scarcity sets the terms for human relationship.
Prayer
God of Abundant Life,
You have not merely conquered death but established a new creation governed by generosity rather than fear. The empty tomb proclaims that scarcity, self-protection, and death itself have been overcome by Your life-giving power.
We confess that despite claiming resurrection faith, we often live according to the old economics of anxiety and accumulation. We clutch tightly to possessions, time, and security as though these were ultimately ours to control. Forgive our practical atheism that affirms Christ’s rising with our lips but denies its implications in our financial choices and relational priorities.
Transform our hearts and hands by resurrection power. Free us from the fear that inhibits generosity and the apathy that blinds us to others’ needs. Replace our scarcity mindset with abundant trust that You who conquered death can surely sustain us as we share freely with others.
Guide us to particular acts of compassion that embody resurrection hope in tangible ways, sharing resources, offering hospitality, advocating for justice, extending forgiveness, and creating communities where “there is no needy person among us.”
When generosity feels risky or compassion becomes costly, remind us of the empty tomb and its promise that giving does not deplete but participates in Your divine abundance. May our open hands and open hearts become living testimonies that Christ is risen indeed.
Through Jesus Christ, the firstfruits of the new creation, who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, forever and ever.
Amen.
by Eron Henry | Apr 9, 2025 | Lent 2025
The cross—Christianity’s central paradox—was an instrument of torture and death that Christians proclaim as the very site of God’s decisive victory. This appears nonsensical by conventional standards. Victory typically manifests in visible power, overwhelming force, and the defeat of enemies. Yet the cross presents the opposite: apparent weakness, submission, and defeat.
This paradox illuminates an important truth: God’s victory operates according to different principles than human conquest. On Golgotha, God achieved triumph not by avoiding suffering but by entering fully into it. What appeared as defeat—the execution of Jesus—was actually the strategic culmination of divine purpose. As Paul writes, “The message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God” (1 Corinthians 1:18).
The hiddenness of this victory was not incidental but essential. Had God’s triumph appeared as conventional victory, it would have merely replaced one domination system with another. Instead, by concealing victory within apparent defeat, God subverted the very logic of worldly power. The cross reveals that God conquers not by coercion but by self-giving love that absorbs violence without replicating it.
Martin Luther’s “theology of the cross” captures this dynamic perfectly. God is revealed precisely where God seems most hidden in weakness, suffering, and death. The cross thus becomes not an unfortunate prelude to resurrection but the very revelation of divine character. God’s strength is made perfect in weakness; God’s wisdom appears as foolishness to the world.
This hidden victory carries profound implications. It suggests that God may be at work most powerfully where appearances suggest divine absence. It indicates that redemption often comes not by escaping suffering but by transformation from within it. And it challenges our preoccupation with visible success, suggesting that authentic victory may look like failure by worldly standards.
The hiddenness of God’s victory in the cross reminds us that divine power operates beneath the surface of history, working not through domination but through seemingly insignificant acts of love, mercy, and faithfulness that ultimately prove more enduring than empires.
Prayer
Mysterious God,
In Your wisdom, You have veiled Your greatest triumph in what appeared to be defeat. At Calvary, where the world saw only humiliation and death, You were accomplishing salvation. Where observers witnessed weakness, You were demonstrating Your greatest strength.
We confess our attachment to visible victory and tangible success. We want triumphant faith that impresses others, not the hidden victory of the cross. We seek divine power that removes suffering rather than transforms it from within. Forgive our resistance to Your upside-down kingdom.
Open our eyes to recognize Your hidden work in our lives and in our world. When circumstances suggest Your absence, help us trust Your presence. When failure seems certain, grant us faith to believe that redemption continues beneath the surface.
Teach us the pattern of the cross – that in surrender we find freedom, in giving we receive, in dying we live. May we embrace this paradoxical wisdom not merely as theological truth but as the very rhythm of our discipleship.
In our suffering, remind us that the cross was not God’s withdrawal but God’s deepest involvement. In our weakness, assure us that Your strength operates most powerfully when human ability reaches its limit.
Through Christ our Lord, who transformed an instrument of death into the means of life abundant, now and forever.
Amen.
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