Slowly, Slowly… then suddenly

This is how it begins

Quietly. Very, very quietly; at first, not sure; but slowly ever so slowly building. It starts right on the edge of your hearing but it won’t be ignored; a  new sound nagging in the distance; part of the background hum but something over and above the buzz of the crowds gathered for the festival. It sounds  joyous. And maybe dangerous. But still far, far away. Gradually and then suddenly; here it is!  Everywhere ringing in your ears . Lost its senses, the crowd is cheering and leaping and crying ‘Hosanna to the Son of David’. It’s chaotic and ecstatic and frenzied; they’re waving branches and shouting and singing and there’s some guy in the middle of it, riding on a donkey; strangely calm he’s the eye of the storm, not much to look at, but he’s the focus of it all, not much to look at, but you can’t tear your eyes away. It is joyous. And it is dangerous. But they seem to be getting away with it. For now. It makes no sense, really, and  yet  your heart burns, leaps, yearns. 

Then almost as soon as they came, they are gone, off in the direction of the Temple, straight to the heart of the city, the heart of the nation, the house of God.

This is how it begins

This is how it ends.

Nobody there. No singing. No crowds. No green branches but wood seasoned forexecution. One man crushed in the machinery of state and altar. Naked power— controlled, ruthless, impassive. One man, flogged, mocked, bound, tortured. Strangely calm, he’s the eye of the storm. Not much to look at, but he’s the focus of it all; not much to look at, but you can’t tear your eyes away.

Alone, all alone; the last of his dying strength cries:

 ‘Why have you abandoned me?’

This is how it ends.

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Six weeks ago Lent began, palm ashes and olive oil. Stylised and restrained, a forty day fast, of sorts, to mirror the forty days of Jesus in the wilderness. 

Forty days that end with temptation.

“All the kingdoms of the world I will give to you, if you will fall down and worship me.” 

Jesus refused the devil’s offer.

Palm Sunday, the exultant crowd think Jesus has gone for Satan’s bargain, Jesus has opted for the world’s kingdoms, Jesus has taken the power and the glory of earthly dominion. Here he comes, their king,  to conquer and to rule.

Only Jesus knows. He refused to shake hands with the devil. He will serve only God.

Following Satan is so much easier: after all, look at what’s on offer— the world. And all we have to do is kowtow. Evil is always easier, that’s why we fall for it, time after time; if it wasn’t so easy we might think twice.  But when do we do that? Most of us, most of the time, choose the kingdoms of the world, the path of least resistance, the wide and easy road. Make it easy on yourself.

Jesus chooses the narrow gate and the hard road. 

That way is cramped, claustrophobic; no space to turn, no choice but to go on; the hardest part of the journey directly ahead;  Calvary, the final destination.

There is where it ends.

‘It is finished’ the man says. 

And so it is.

The world gets back to its business, everything put back in where it was; palm branches swept way, dusty cloaks  picked up and wrapped round cold bodies hurrying home. Life carries on, the thrown pebble sinks away and the ripples stop.  It’s like nothing has happened. 

But it is not the same. Something has changed.

This is how it changes. 

Off stage. Out of sight. Unheard, unseen, unexpected.

Slowly, slowly, gradually then suddenly.

The world has shifted and however much you shove it will not go back. Everything is the same; it looks the same, sounds the same, reacts the same, hurts the same; and yet it is no longer the same, because you have changed. You have looked into the eye of the storm and He has looked  right back at you.

The narrow way does not end at Calvary; it ends in life, new life, resurrection life. Life beyond death. And life before death,  life in abundance, travelling the hard road.

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Everywhere, Satan still peddles the same tatty wares. 

‘All this will be yours, if you will bow down and worship me.’

It’s a scam of course. It always has been.

A cheap copy that doesn’t work, an empty box, the glitter of fool’s gold.  You gain the world: you lose your soul.

This is how it begins

Ripples on the soul.

First faltering steps,  the narrow gate, the hard road.

Slowly, slowly at first; gradually then suddenly.

Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it. For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it.