Refocused on the Way of the Cross

Final Week of Lent Devotional
Based on Psalm 118:1–2, 19–29; Matthew 21:1–11

There is a kind of joy that arrives before we understand what it will cost.

As Jesus enters Jerusalem, the crowds shout, “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” Cloaks are thrown down, branches are waved, and hope fills the streets. It is a moment of celebration, of longing finally finding voice. The words echo the psalmist: “O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his steadfast love endures forever!”

It feels a bit like the day you buy a new car.

You have done the research, maybe imagined it for weeks. Then comes the moment you drive it off the lot. The seats still smell new, the engine feels smooth, and everything about it feels like possibility. There is a thrill in that first drive, a sense that something has changed, that life is just a little better now.

But what you do not feel in that moment, at least not fully, is the cost of ownership.

The monthly payments.
The insurance.
The maintenance.
The unexpected repairs down the road.

The joy is real. But so is the cost that comes with it.

Palm Sunday holds that same tension.

The crowd celebrates Jesus with genuine hope and excitement. This is the one they have been waiting for. This is the moment they have longed to see. And yet, standing where they stand, they cannot yet grasp the cost of the road he is traveling.

But we, standing where they could not, know something they did not.

The road Jesus rides is not just into Jerusalem. It is toward the cross.

And this is where Lent brings us into focus.

We often want a faith that stays in the excitement, that first drive feeling where everything is hopeful and new. We want a God who brings quick transformation without ongoing cost. But the way of Jesus is not just about the moment of praise. It is about the life that follows.

Jesus does not reject their celebration. But neither does he offer a shallow version of hope.

He comes humbly, riding on a donkey.
He comes not to conquer, but to surrender.
He comes not to avoid suffering, but to move straight through it.

Psalm 118 holds this tension if we listen closely. It is a song of thanksgiving, but also of struggle. It speaks of gates that must be entered, stones that are rejected, and a day the Lord has made that is both wondrous and costly. “The stone that the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone.”

This is the way of the cross.

It is the way where joy and cost are not opposites, but companions.
It is the way where love is not cheap, but deeply invested.
It is the way where God’s steadfast love endures, not by bypassing pain, but by entering it fully.

In this final week of Lent, we are invited to refocus, not just on the thrill of faith, but on the depth of it.

To recognize that following Jesus is not just a moment of celebration. It is a way of life.
A way that asks something of us.
A way that carries both beauty and burden.

The same crowd that shouts “Hosanna” will soon fall silent or turn away. And if we are honest, we can see ourselves there too. We love the joy. We hesitate at the cost.

But Jesus keeps going.

He walks the road through betrayal, denial, and death, and he walks it with intention.

So this week, as the palms are laid down and the road turns toward Good Friday, may we be refocused on the way of the cross.

Not just the thrill of welcoming Jesus,
but the courage to follow him.

A way that is honest about suffering.
A way that is grounded in love.
A way that reminds us that the deepest grace in our lives is not only in what is given to us, but in what we are invited to carry.

In God’s grip,

Pastor Chuck Church