"Hosanna" to "Crucify": Palm Sunday 2026 (Matthew 21:1-11)
Palm Sunday: “Hosanna” to “Crucify”—our hearts mirror the crowd's fickleness. Yet the humble King rides to die for us anyway. Follow Him through Holy Week.
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Palm Sunday: “Hosanna” to “Crucify”—our hearts mirror the crowd's fickleness. Yet the humble King rides to die for us anyway. Follow Him through Holy Week.
Today we continue our study of Psalm 119, the longest of the Psalms and one arranged in an format of twenty two stanzas, each of which uses and emphasises one of the letters of the Hebrew alphabet.
Discover the fascinating linguistic evolution of the name of the Messiah. From its Hebrew roots as "Yeshua" to the modern English "Jesus," this article traces how shifting sounds and changing alphabets across four languages shaped the name we know today.
This is what the church does when she reads the Passion over you. She declares it. The Word does what it says. It puts you under the torn curtain, in the company of the saints who walked out of their graves, in the place of Barabbas. This is not a report on something that happened long ago to someone else. It is a delivery—to you, this morning, in this place.
On Maundy Thursday, our Lord shares his Last Supper with his disciples, stoops to wash dusty feet, and gives us His new commandment: “Love one another as I have loved you.” In the Upper Room, He models humble service before the cross. Will we receive His love and extend it to others?
On Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, we gather around Matthew 6 and Psalm 103 to ask a question that cuts to the heart of every spiritual discipline: why do we do what we do? Jesus warns against practicing our righteousness to be seen by others—whether in giving, praying, or fasting—because those who perform for human applause have already received their reward in full. Even the imposition of ashes, visible as it is, stands apart from that kind of hypocrisy: it is not a badge of superior devotion but a corporate confession of our shared fragility and need. We are dust. And yet, as Psalm 103 reminds us, God knows our frame, remembers our weakness, and meets us not with condemnation but with steadfast love. This Lent, we are invited to audit our hearts—to give secretly, to pray privately, to fast quietly—not to earn God's favor, but to lay down our pretenses and receive what we could never manufacture: the righteousness of Christ, given freely in the great exchange.