Pastor Bo WagnerOn the next day much people that were come to the feast, when they heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem, 13 took branches of palm trees, and went forth to meet him, and cried, Hosanna: Blessed is the King of Israel that cometh in the name of the Lord. – John 12:12
He came seemingly as the most benign visitor to this world, just a babe, and one born in poverty rather than power. These trappings of anonymity could not veil his identity, though, to those that knew him best. He was the King; not just of a province or a country or even of the world, but of all.
But that royalty lay unseen to the world as he grew and lived the most “normal” of lives. Hands that had flung the stars onto the black velvet of night with the ease of an effortless shrug now bore callouses and endured splinters gained from work in Joseph’s carpentry shop. Ears that spent millennia past hearing, “Holy, Holy, Holy, is the Lord of hosts: the whole earth is full of his glory!” now heard things like, “Hand me that rasp, Son. Good. Now hold this board tight while I work on it.”
Thirty years quickly passed. Three decades of being a visitor to the temple that he could by all rights call “my Father’s house.”
And then, finally, it was time to begin his public ministry, which he knew would be all too short. But short though it was, it packed in enough wonder and amazement to leave no doubt as to his true identity.