(Zechariah 9:9-10)
Rejoice and shout – two things that weren’t very prominent during the six weeks of the season of Lent. Even with the additional services on Wednesday evenings, the spirit of worship was not so much one of rejoicing and shouting, but rather repenting and sorrow. While this is an appropriate attitude and approach during a season marked by penitence and confession, Zechariah now implores us to turn the frowns upside down and rejoice and shout. And Palm Sunday, marking the start of Holy Week, certainly sets the tone for such exuberance, amidst processions of palms accompanied by shouts of Hosanna.
Indeed, isn’t it always true that God’s people can rejoice and shout? Whether times are good or bad, the believer has every reason to rejoice and shout, doesn’t he… doesn’t she?
Or not? Is there too much gloom in our lives, clouding our view and keeping us from rejoicing or shouting? Does some past sin with its present consequences still haunt you today? Or does it trouble you that your sins don’t bother you more? Are you right now dealing with something so heavy that it feels like you’re in a fog and life just continues, not slowing down to wait for you to catch up? Is life in general just really putting the squeeze on you right now, so that one thing just seems to keep piling on another?
We often feel like this because we’re not so great at keeping the spiritual at the forefront of our lives. I tell people I have the easiest job in the world, which is true, but at times it’s also the most frustrating, because of how easily overlooked the spiritual side of things is in our lives. I get to listen a lot, so I hear lots of struggles and challenges. And, while I don’t want to diminish the role of pastoral care of discernment, as important as they are, I will say that an awful lot of what I do and say as a pastor is simply asking questions like, “Does the Bible say anything about that?” “Did Jesus provide us with any promises that might apply to that?” So what is the frustrating part? That we sometimes seem to be so incapable as believers of incorporating such questions and considerations into our day-to-day lives.
Others may be better at looking to their Savior and his Word during such times… and still struggle to find reason to rejoice and shout. When we feel that way, it is probably for one of two reasons: 1) we’re trying too hard, or 2) we’re not trying hard enough.
We’re trying too hard when we imagine that Jesus came to make heaven possible, but that it now depends on us to get there. This can show itself when our own perfectionist tendencies don’t allow us to live in the joy of unconditional grace. We want the both/and of grace and rule following, and procedure, and policy, and consequences, and… etc. What may really get under our skin is our constant observation of others not really measuring up as Christians. “A Christian shouldn’t… a Christian should… that’s not very Christian… etc.” We know the Bible says Jesus did it all, but what that really means in my mind is that he’s now watching to see if I do my part. We’re trying too hard, and insist that the joy of Christianity is not found mostly in what Jesus did, but mostly in what he calls me to do. No wonder such Christians seem to lack joy in their lives!
We’re not trying hard enough when we treat forgiveness as an endless commodity that frees us to be lazy and unconcerned about living good lives. So, rather than allowing grace to spur us on and drive us to live stand-up lives, we’re quick to gloss over our sins with, “It’s OK, we’re forgiven.”
No, it’s not OK! Yes, we are forgiven, but sin is never OK, and never should we be OK with it or even comfortable with it. That’s not at all why God extends his grace to us. And when we try so little in our Christian living, and our effort is so minimal, should we wonder why grace and forgiveness have lost their luster? We no longer stand in awe of how loving and gracious our forgiving God is because we’ve lowered the bar so much in our Christian living. We don’t even realize how much we’re dragging God down and diminishing him when we do that. So why would a believer in that case find reason to rejoice or shout?
God’s people at the time of Zechariah didn’t see much reason to rejoice or shout, either. They had already been centuries removed from their golden age under King David. Their nation had split in two, with the Northern Kingdom going into exile first, followed by the Southern Kingdom being transplanted to Babylon. Now that a contingent had been allowed to return back to their homeland, it was a far cry from what they had recalled. Not only did their homes need rebuilding, but what was left of the temple, their place of worship, only served as a painful reminder of how far from glory they had fallen. What was there to rejoice about? Why shout anything other than laments and cries of despair?
Zechariah gave them a good reason to rejoice and shout. “See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey” (v.9). With remarkable precision, Zechariah brought into focus the blurry image of the future, the time when God’s people would experience a glory that wouldn’t simply rival that of King David, but would surpass it. That time would be when David’s greater Son, the Messiah, would arrive to fight the most important battle ever to be fought – the battle that would determine where souls spend eternity.
Zechariah gives us a good reason to rejoice and shout. Let’s avoid either extreme of trying too hard or not trying hard enough and look with fresh eyes and ears at what the prophet Zechariah is actually telling us. “See, your king comes to you…” (v.9). Pause. Let it sink in. Take note of the careful word choice the Spirit led Zechariah to use. This is not just any king, but “your” king. This is not some foreign superpower coming for conquest, coming to conquer you and subject you to his wrath or oppression; he is your king.
And he is coming to you. That’s not the way it’s supposed to work! If there is a need or a request, it’s brought to the king. The people of the kingdom go to the king and humbly beg an audience with him to plead their case. They hope their request is not unwarranted or out of order, so that it doesn’t result in punishment or wrath. That’s how the relationship is supposed to work. The king sits atop his throne and hears this case and that as they are brought before him.
But the king Zechariah speaks of comes to us! What does that say about you and me? What does that say about him? How highly the king must think of his people to approach them and not the other way around (as it is with all other religions)!
And, how does he come? Backed by an army to destroy us and make us his subjects? Not at all, but righteous and victorious. To those trying too hard to stake a claim in their salvation by earning it, what is left to earn or work for if the king of righteousness – your king of righteousness – comes for you? He brings his righteousness with him, for you. He has no need of your attempts at righteousness. Ours will never measure up to his anyway. He alone is perfect. Holy. Righteous before God. Stop trying so hard to earn the righteousness he alone has secured and which he alone freely gives. Instead, rejoice! Shout!
And to you not trying hard enough, can you really go about your life unaffected and unfazed by the victory he came to win for you? Can you treat it so casually and with such indifference that it doesn’t cause you to want to eagerly be his subject and serve and thank him in every way possible? Can we be so unresponsive and uncaring toward our king who came to bring us security and safety by his victory? Can we go through so much of this life without a yearning desire to know this king better and to prioritize our relationship with our victorious and righteous king?
Especially when we know him by name. We have the unique and blessed privilege of seeing Zechariah’s depiction come to life in Matthew’s Gospel. In chapter 21, Matthew tells us the crowds shouted (cf. v.9) and that the whole city was stirred (cf. v.10). Zechariah’s prophecy was unfolding on the first Palm Sunday! Yes, it was Jesus on the first Palm Sunday who entered Jerusalem “lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey” (v.9). Rejoice! Shout!
We know that Zechariah was talking about Jesus, and we know that Jesus came just as Zechariah said he would. And, we know why Jesus came into Jerusalem. It was to fulfill the rest of what Zechariah promised God’s people. Our king promised, “I will take away the chariots from Ephraim and the warhorses from Jerusalem, and the battle bow will be broken. He will proclaim peace to the nations. His rule will extend from sea to sea and from the River to the ends of the earth” (v.10). But for Jesus to proclaim peace, he had to first secure it.
For those in Zechariah’s day, nor even in Jesus’ day, our king didn’t come to us to secure that peace on a battlefield or by some ground-breaking military strategy. It wasn’t a peace from worldly rulers like Pilate. It wasn’t to overthrow Rome. The peace he came to bring would require a cross and a sacrifice – his own.
You sense the crowd’s disappointment over the course of Holy Week as this reality sank in. The king of righteousness and victory rode into Jerusalem to finally restore Israel to its former glory, only to end up in what looked like defeat at the hands of Rome, hoisted up on display like so many others who tried to challenge Rome’s mighty power.
Little did they know, and little do far too many still today know, he was victorious! He did secure peace! By the very cross that looked like failure, he extended not just his arms to die, but his very life to forgive the sins of all people, bringing reconciliation between rebel sinners and their righteous God. Yes, the events that unfold this Holy Week are why he is – and we are – able to proclaim peace to the nations. Rejoice! Shout!
Let that peace first dwell in your own heart. It will, when you take your foot off the gas and stop trying to manufacture the perfect life/marriage/family. It will, when you stop pretending that what you’re really looking for is on the other side of overspending, over-scheduling, over-working, and over-exerting yourself. You’ll find that peace when you stop looking for it and realize that in Jesus, it has already found you. “See, your king comes to you…” (v.9).
He came to you. He comes to us in baptism. He comes to us with his body and blood. He comes to us through his Word. Peace isn’t found in pretending our own self-righteousness gets you closer to him; it’s found in realizing he brought his righteousness and victory to you. That peace in Jesus, your king, is yours right now. Isn’t it time you started actually living in it?
