For Christians, this is kind of a big week. I don't mean getting new spring dresses and hair cuts for the kids (although I do have a good story about handmade dresses and my Grandma...). It's a big week because without it, Christmas would be irrelevant.
I woke this morning thinking about the disciples. If we were there then, it would be four days, just four little days, removed from this biggest hullabaloo...when Jesus rode into Jerusalem to a spontaneous riot of joy.
They knew he was who he claimed to be; many of them knew from the moment they met. What were their expectations? After Palm Sunday where hoards of people shouted "Hosanna," (save us) at him and symbolically recognized him as King, I'm thinking their expectations were not met, ultimately.
They were most likely floating along on a bubble of inclusion, inspiration, joy, excitement...good things. Then comes Thursday and during the feast, Jesus washes their feet.
Wait. Huh? How? Why? Why would this person claiming to be king take on the role of a servant? This alone is stark enough. Then he hints at his betrayal. This cannot be what they had in mind. I imagine looks of consternation flashing about the group. They've come a long way from Sunday...
Is what He offers, what He delivers ever what we have in mind? In my experience, no. But the alternative is always, always better than anything I could plan.
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