Yesterday I hydroplaned all the way from western Michigan to southern Ontario. A total blast (not at all).
Wayne has this upcoming week off (I believe the Americanos call it Spring Break) and I was lucky enough to get the week off as well, so yesterday we jumped in the car and drove through pouring rain down the highway for 6+ hours trying to avoid obnoxious semis with an annoying habit of throwing gallons of sleety precipitation on our windshield. By the time we arrived I was no longer able to blink. But -- we made it. And now we have a week ahead of us filled with copious amounts of family time, fun, and Easterly feasting.
Tomorrow is Palm Sunday, the day on which Christians celebrate Jesus' entrance into Jerusalem, the day we remember the waving palm branches and cloak-laden road, and the humble entrance of a King heralded by loud Hosannas. A celebratory day, to be sure, but what about the part after Jesus entered Jerusalem -- the part where he wept over the city, devastated over its rebellion and rejection of the true Messiah (Luke 16:41-42)? Jesus came to Jerusalem knowing the suffering that he would face, but he came anyway. He came knowing that he'd be arrested, beaten, abandoned by his closest friends, and killed. But he came anyway. He came to pay our price and win us back from death.
And now, because Jesus so lovingly entered Jerusalem to face his enemies, I get to drive back to my hometown in peace, I get to enter it freely and spend time with my family and reminisce on the beautiful love of our Savior without fear of judgement or death, despite my sin and shame. Hosanna, indeed.