As Jesus rode into Jerusalem gates, He was met with passionate enthusiasm by the crowds who assumed He was coming in to vanquish the Roman conquerors. I always thought that the cries of “Hosanna! Blessed is He Who comes in the name of the Lord!” must have sounded somehow hollow to Jesus as He rode into Jerusalem’s gate. He knew what awaited Him at the end of the week, jeering crowds crying, “Crucify!” and Roman executioners too eager to oblige.
As He sat healing in the temple, the cry of Hosanna still rang through the air. But Jesus didn’t react like I would have. I mean, I would been offended knowing that the words were more like flattery than true devotion. Instead, He answered the indignant priests’ complaints by saying, “Have you never read, Out of the mouths of babes and unweaned infants You have made (provided) perfect praise?” (Mt 21:16)
He called that shallow endorsement, words that would prove utterly empty by weeks end, PERFECT PRAISE! That praise was immature, based on a faulty understanding of Who He was and why He had come to Jerusalem. It was weak praise, that would soon be intimidated by angry priests and the threat of Roman displeasure. Yet, Jesus called it perfect. Do you think He was hearing the echo of Heaven’s booming choirs in those uncertain voices? Could it be that He was already looking past Calvary to the three thousand soul revival as Peter preached on the Day of Pentecost? Did He hear the endless ages of the church’s heart and devotion whispering to Him, beckoning Him onward?
And if the insubstantial homage offered on the ride into town pleased Jesus, how must He see my praise today? To be transparent, sometimes my praise has been more about what He was going to do for me than Who He is. That is pretty shallow praise. Sometimes, I still wanted to worship the way that pleased my flesh instead of considering what He desired. That is pretty immature praise. Sometimes I was so worried about my dignity that my adoration has been a little mechanical . That is pretty weak praise.
Does He consider my praise perfect, calling those things that are not as though they are? I suspect He does. I suspect He looks at our weak, immature love and whispers, It is weak, but it is real. I suspect He sees our weak and immature devotion, and whispers, It hasn’t come into its own yet but it is a steadfast, burning passion.
Lord, see us with our weak, immature praise and know that we love You with all that we are. We lift our hands, though we have no palm leaves to cast in front of You, and we roar with all we are, HOSANNA! BLESSED IS HE WHO COMES IN THE NAME OF THE LORD!!
