Going My Way?

What is the best death according to you ?

I think the best way to go is to die like my grandfather... he fell asleep and never woke up. Dying in your sleep is indeed said to be the best way to go.

So, what do you consider the worst way to die ? Like my grandfather’s friends.

Why ? How did they die ? They were in the car when Grandpa fell asleep.

There’s a phrase we sometimes use when someone cuts us off in traffic or ignores our advice: “Fine. Go your way.” Usually, what we mean is: “You’re wrong, but I’m done arguing.” But Palm Sunday invites us to ask a deeper question: Whose way are we actually going? Because on this day, everyone in Jerusalem thought they understood the way Jesus should go and almost no one understood the ways He chose.

As Jesus enters Jerusalem, the crowd is celebrating. They’re waving branches, shouting their praises, and they are bubbling with expectation because they think they know His way is fill of power and victory in overthrowing Rome. Why? Because they were oppressed and most often oppression leads us to dualistic, us and them thinking, with the ultimate goal being “winning”. In other words, they want a Messiah who will go their way. But  Jesus does something strange. He doesn’t do a “drop the mic look at me Oscar moment”, he weeps over the city. Not exactly the triumphant red carpet parade energy people were hoping for.

Before He even gets to Jerusalem, Jesus makes a stop in Jericho and encounters short and stout Zacchaeus watching him from up in a tree. Zacchaeus is part of the 1% wealthy financial club while being socially rejected from the country club because he was dishonest. We might even cross the street to avoid encountering him. Jesus sees Zacchaeus and says, “I must stay at your house today.” He doesn’t say, “Zach, I’m coming over to your house but first, clean yourself up. Prove to me and everyone else that you have changed, and before I arrive, pay back your overcharges to everyone.” All he says is,  “I’m coming to your house.”

This is where we see something radical about Jesus’ way. He did not live trying to prove himself, himself, or possess anything or anyone. Jesus never chased approval. Even on Palm Sunday, when the crowd is finally cheering, he doesn’t lean into it or perform for their ovations.

A few days later, those same voices raised in praises will turn to curses. If Jesus lived to prove himself, he would have been crushed by that cultural shift. But he wasn’t because he didn’t try to protect himself. Jesus rides and then walks straight into Jerusalem knowing what’s coming. Rejection. Betrayal. Crucifixion. No cameras and news people asking him which designer made his tunic, “Are you wearing a Vera Wang original?” Nope. Denial, a cat of nine tails, a crown made of hyssop, nailing and suffocation are on his crimson bloody carpet. And yet He keeps going. There’s no PR strategy being handled by his disciples. There is no escape plan. There is only surrender.

While Jesus had every right to claim power, he didn’t try to possess anything or anyone. Instead, He rides in on a donkey. Not exactly the symbol of domination. More like the ancient equivalent of showing up to a military parade on a borrowed scooter.

When I was a teenager, a few of us had a crush on a lifeguard working at a Burger’s Lake, a huge man-made pool in Fort Worth, Texas. It was a scorching hot July day and it was loud, chaotic, with kids jumping, people laughing, music blaring. Burger’s Lake was the kind of place where it’s easy to miss something important. The lifeguard noticed a child who was struggling in the center, a few feet away from the barge. We followed his gaze to see the child wasn’t waving dramatically or shouting. The kid was simply quietly slipping under the water. And here’s the thing about those moments, they don’t come with background music, and they don’t pause to give you time to think. Our eyes darted back to the lifeguard who had a split second to decide because right at that same moment, another lifeguard was already moving toward the child, but he was farther away. This meant our favorite lifeguard had a choice, to stay where he safe and where he was responsible for his section, or leave his post, risk being wrong, risk consequences, and jump in. If he stayed, no one would blame him because he was following the rules, protecting himself. But he jumped and arrived to the child first, pulled the little boy up and applied CPR and saved the little boy’s life. Later, when everything settled down, we watched his supervisor asked him why he left his position and he said something simple. “I dove in because in that moment, saving myself didn’t matter as much as saving him.”

That’s the kind of choice we see in Jesus. Because on Palm Sunday, Jesus could have walked away. He could have avoided Jerusalem, avoided conflict, avoided the cross. In other words, Jesus could have saved himself. But He didn’t. Not because he didn’t possess power, but because he chose a different way. He chose the way of self-denial, the way of love, the way that says: “I will not protect myself at the cost of losing you.”

I wonder how much time we waste trying to save ourselves, secure ourselves, protect our image, our comfort, and our future? Jesus shows us another way.

A way where love is greater than self-preservation. A way where we don’t have to prove, protect, or possess, because we trust the heart who gave everything he had for love.

How many of us will admit we want to go Jesus’ way, but will we admit that we want Jesus’ way to be our way? We want people to understand us. We want success without sacrifice, faith without surrender, a higher power who agrees with us. We’re fine with Jesus, as long as He’s going our way. But Palm Sunday reminds us, Jesus didn’t live to follow our ways. Love, the Spirit, always comes to lead us into the ways of LOVE.

When Jesus weeps over Jerusalem, it’s not weakness, it’s not fear, it’s heartbreak. His heart is broken because the people missed it. They wanted a political solution, immediate results, and a visible victory. Their expectations caused them to miss opportunities for peace, for transformation, and for the presence of the HOLY right in front of them. They were going their way, and it led them away from the very thing they were longing for.

Then Jesus enters the temple and turns over tables. Not because He’s losing control, not because he wanted power, but because He cares too much to leave things as they are. He clears out everything that distracts from real connection with the Sacred. In other words, Jesus says, “This place, and your life, is meant for LOVE’s way, not yours.”

So, what does this mean for us? Going Jesus’ way means letting go of the need to prove ourselves. It means trusting the Spirit enough to stop trying to protect everything. Going Jesus’ way means loosening our grip on what we want to possess. It means surrender, and let’s be honest, surrendering to the ways of LOVE is not easy.

Why? Because our way feels safer, smarter, and more efficient even when it’s none of these are true. Palm Sunday does not invite us to a celebration. Palm Sunday invites us to make a choice. The same crowd that shouted “Hosanna” had to decide, “Will we follow Jesus when He doesn’t go our way?” The same choice is before us every day.

Imagine standing on that road into Jerusalem spread with the coats and scarves of the cheering crowd. Branches are waving. Jesus passes by. He isn’t not rushing. He isn’t performing or trying to prove anything. In the simplest of terms, Jesus is merely moving steadily toward the cross, toward his murder. Toward love, toward sacrifice, toward redemption. And Jesus turns, as if to say to us, “You can go your way, or you can come with me.”

There was a blind man standing on a busy street corner and tapping the person next to him, he says, “I am blind. Can you please lead me across the street?” The good Samaritan takes his arm into his and slowly guides – walks with the blind man across the street. Once there, the blind man thanks him and walks away. Immediately, a woman taps the good Samaritan on his arm and says, “Excuse me…aren’t you blind?”

“Yes I am.” “Then why did you risk your life and the life of a stranger?” “Oh, I did not sense any risk ma’am, only faith and a deep knowing. You see, I’ve walked across this street a thousand times. I know every sound, every beep of the traffic light, every dent in the pavement. That man had never been here before and needed someone who knew the way and could lead him there. I guess you could say I did it with my eyes closed and my heart open and it was exhilarating.”

As we continue walking into this holy week, may we remember that every week is holy. The ways of Jesus do prove one thing, every day is a NO KINGS DAY. The only king should be LOVE. May our hearts be controlled by validating everyone is worthy of love, over proving we deserve recognition. May we lay down all the ways we protect our image of ourselves and put on the ways of Jesus. And may we understand that we possess all we need to be LOVE as we say “YES” when the Spirit asks us, “Going My Way?” Because the truth is, the Spirit is always coming into our house because that’s where she lives. May our lives prove, protect, and possess the life-giving ways of Jesus. May it be so, amen.