My Fickle Heart

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As we move from Palm Sunday to Easter, I’m surprised every year at the fickleness of the crowd. The very same people who shout “Hosanna!” on Sunday are the ones shouting, “Crucify, him!” on Friday. I love to sit on my high horse and judge them for their lack of constancy, until I examine my own heart. The crowds on Sunday had heard of Jesus’ miracles, most notably, his raising of Lazarus from the dead. So, of course they were pumped. This dude raises people from the dead?! Heck yeah I’ll shout his praises. But, then he strolls up to the temple, sees that they are using it to further there own gain, and in righteous anger, whips them. Whoa. Wait a minute Jesus. You were pretty awesome when you were raising Lazarus, but how dare you disrupt my personal world. And, that my friends, was the beginning of Jesus’ end. And, less I be quick to judge, my heart is just like theirs. I’m super pumped about Jesus when he’s doing cool things but the minute he steps into my personal space and tries to sort it out, to make it more like him, that’s where I get a little defensive. Jesus, stay in your corner. But, oh if I would only yield to his work, what a better life I might live. My prayer this Holy Week is that I would remember the fickleness of my own heart and yield it to the only One who can steady it. Amen.

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