Tuesday, April 22, 2014 Posted by Lisa Arnold
He entered this fleshly world full of kings who demand and force and imprison with works. Where the self-righteous bathed in judgmental pride, this King's compassion soaked His Spirit.
He knew wrongs had to be righted. He knew debts were to be paid. But the debt was too high. Nobody, not one, had the ability to pay what was owed on his own.
So one day when the time had come, this King made an entrance into the heaviest populated city during a time of celebration, not on a noble white horse adorned with jewels but on a lowly donkey and her colt. Those who loved Him, worshiped. Those who hated seethed with jealousy.
This King gathered His friends to celebrate what only He knew to be His last meal but instead of being served, He turned and washed His companions' feet.
That night He was betrayed and arrested and beat. He was then dressed with a purple robe, crowned with thorns and mocked as “King of the Jews!”
He died that day, much to the delight of many. The King’s enemies sensed victory and relief over a crucifixion well done. Hope had vanished from the grasp of those who loved the King and now the agony of grief was their new companion.