Sunday, February 8, our regular 5 pm worship service at Leawood will begin at 4 pm.
Scheduled programming has resumed for Thursday, February 13 at all Resurrection locations.
1 When they approached Jerusalem and came to Bethphage on the Mount of Olives, Jesus gave two disciples a task. 2 He said to them, “Go into the village over there. As soon as you enter, you will find a donkey tied up and a colt with it. Untie them and bring them to me. 3 If anyone says anything to you, say that their master needs them.” He sent them off right away. 4 Now this happened to fulfill what the prophet said, 5 “Say to Daughter Zion, ‘Look, your king is coming to you, humble and riding on a donkey, and on a colt the donkey’s offspring’” [Isaiah 62:11; Zechariah 9:9]. 6 The disciples went and did just as Jesus had ordered them. 7 They brought the donkey and the colt and laid their clothes on them. Then he sat on them. 8a Now a large crowd spread their clothes on the road.
Jesus made a deliberate, carefully planned entrance into Jerusalem. Riding a donkey echoed Israel’s history (cf. 1 Kings 1:32-39) and prophecy (Zechariah 9:9-10). Scholar William Barclay said, “Jesus had already arranged that the [donkey] and her foal should be waiting for him… and the phrase, ‘The Master needs them,’ was a password by which their owner would know that the hour which Jesus had arranged had come…. The horse was the mount of war; the [donkey] was the mount of peace.” *
Loving Lord, when you were born, there wasn’t room for you. When you came to Jerusalem, they still didn’t have room for you. Lord, I open my heart—I want to make room for you in my life always. Amen.
Katy Nall, who serves as the Program Director of Missions for Resurrection West, wrote today's Insights. She is a mom of two and loves to be outside in the sunshine, especially if it involves mountains or ocean. She loves hiking, reading, learning, and connecting.
On Saturday morning, I was driving to Nebraska Furniture Mart to pick up a new bed for my son. He’s turning 13 soon, and we are completely redoing his room as a birthday surprise. Along the drive, I ended up behind a car with one of those “Please Be Patient — Student Driver” bumper stickers.
I softened. I backed off a little. I remembered the first time I merged onto the highway, terrified, and my dad yelling “Merge! It’s their job to drive, it’s your job to merge!” Learning something new can be awkward and slow and vulnerable. Honestly, I had one of those parenting flash forward moments, too: That sticker is in my future. When my son starts learning to drive, of course I’m going to want people to give him space. To be patient. To assume the best. To remember he’s still growing. That he’s someone’s beloved.
When I read about Jesus entering Jerusalem on a donkey instead of a warhorse, I wonder if that choice carried a similar message for us: Please be patient. This wasn’t because Jesus was new at riding donkeys, but because he knows transformation takes time. He knows we’re learning. He knows peace grows differently than power does, and the kingdom he was announcing wasn’t arriving with speed or domination. It was coming through peace—and peace rarely moves at highway speed.
The people lining the road that day were living under Roman occupation. Many were longing for liberation that looked strong, decisive, possibly even militant. A warhorse would have made sense. A donkey probably felt underwhelming. Disappointing, even. Like maybe Jesus wasn’t moving fast enough to fix what needed fixing.
If I’m honest, I feel that tension sometimes. In ministry, in parenting, in relationships, in the broader work of justice and compassion — I often want progress to be clearer, quicker, more obvious. I want to know the effort is “working.” But the kind of transformation Jesus models almost always takes longer than we wish it would.
Patience isn’t my most natural spiritual gift, but that image of Jesus on a donkey keeps reminding me: choosing peace isn’t passive. It’s intentional. It’s brave. It’s a commitment to the kind of change that actually lasts, even if it doesn’t look dramatic right away. Some days I think I could use one of those stickers myself: “Please be patient. Still learning the way of peace.” Following Jesus often means slowing down enough to listen well and trust that God is working even when I can’t immediately see results.
Today, where might I need to practice patience — with others, with the world, or even with myself? And where might Jesus be inviting me to trust that peace, though slower, is still the stronger, braver way?
* William Barclay, The Gospel of Matthew—Volume 2 Chapters 11–28 (Revised Edition). Westminster John Knox Press, 1976, p. 242.
** Ibid., p. 241.
*** Wright, N. T., Matthew for Everyone, Part 2: Chapters 16-28 (The New Testament for Everyone) (pp. 65-66). Westminster John Knox Press. Kindle Edition.