When Jesus Doesn’t Meet Our Expectations

The Humble Revolution of Palm Sunday

Does it ever surprise you how Jesus chooses to show up?

On Palm Sunday, the first day of Holy Week, Jesus doesn’t enter with thunder or spectacle. There are no warhorses or swords. Just the rustle of palm branches, the steady sound of donkey hooves on stone, and a crowd cheering for a kind of King they don’t fully understand. Palm Sunday remains one of the most celebrated moments in Jesus' ministry, yet it’s also one of the most easily misunderstood. We welcome a Savior who brings hope. But what happens when that hope comes wrapped in humility and leads to a cross?

Jerusalem was electric with anticipation. Jesus’ arrival was more than a cultural moment—it was divine history unfolding in real time. Crowds pressed in along the road, laying cloaks and palm branches at His feet, voices lifted in expectation: “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” (Matthew 21:9). There was a growing sense of certainty that at last, the long-awaited Messiah had come. The King who would cast off Roman rule and restore Israel to prominence. Their hopes were high—and tightly scripted.

But what came next didn’t match the script. Jesus didn’t appear as a military leader on horseback. He came instead on a donkey, choosing the posture of a servant rather than a conqueror. The crowd roared, but did they realize who they were actually praising? As singer-songwriter Andrew Peterson has asked in many a hushed concert hall, “Has there ever been a king like this?”

PALM SUNDAY TEACHING ON VIDEO
NOTE: Video content is unique. It is not a replica of, but a companion to, this essay.

The King Who Came in Quiet Power

Kings and conquerors have always known how to make an entrance. Julius Caesar returned to Rome with parades and power displays, legions of soldiers trailing behind him. His procession was a carefully constructed warning: Don’t challenge the man who holds the sword.

Jesus, by contrast, arrived with gentleness. His was a strength not advertised with spectacle, but cloaked in humility. His entrance fulfilled the words of the prophet Zechariah: “Behold, your king is coming to you, humble and mounted on a donkey” (Zechariah 9:9). Charles Spurgeon once observed of this moment, “He stoops to conquer.” And truly, that is what Jesus was doing—offering a kingdom where meekness disarms might and where glory comes through surrender.

The people wanted a liberator to defeat their enemies with force. Jesus came to deliver them through mercy, not vengeance. His mission was rooted in sacrificial love, not political revolt. His “throne” would be a cross, and His “crown” would draw blood. The drama of Palm Sunday signals that God’s way of saving is not about overwhelming power, but about costly grace. As Jesus told His disciples, “The Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45).

A Kingdom Unlike the One We Crave

Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem revealed more than His identity—it unveiled the nature of His reign. The values of His kingdom stand in sharp contrast to the world’s assumptions about power and prestige. Earthly kingdoms rise through dominance and self-advancement. But Christ’s kingdom grows through humility, self-giving, and a love that seeks the good of others over self-preservation.

He taught His disciples that leadership isn’t about being elevated above others, but about kneeling to serve them. “Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave” (Matthew 20:26–27). In the way of Jesus, the ladder to greatness leads downward, not upward.

C.S. Lewis paints this truth in The Great Divorce through Sarah Smith of Golders Green—a seemingly ordinary woman, largely unnoticed in her earthly life. She held no title, no status, and no public acclaim. And yet, in heaven, she is revealed in radiant glory. Her greatness flowed not from platform or power, but from a quiet life shaped by love—welcoming the lonely, caring for the vulnerable, giving without expecting recognition. Her story captures what Jesus meant when He said, “The last will be first, and the first will be last” (Matthew 20:16). True greatness in God’s eyes has little to do with how the world measures success.

Palm Sunday invites us to ask hard questions about our own desires. Are we more drawn to influence than service? Do we pursue comfort more than faithfulness? In the kingdom of Jesus, to lead is to serve, and to rise is to kneel.

When Expectations Shift

The celebration of Palm Sunday didn’t last long. The same crowd that shouted “Hosanna!” on Sunday cried “Crucify Him!” by Friday. What changed?

Their expectations. Jesus didn’t fit the narrative they had imagined. He refused to overthrow the Roman regime. He didn’t cater to their political hopes or align with their cultural agenda. Instead, He offered something deeper—redemption, not revolution. And that was not the kind of king they had in mind.

We face the same dilemma. Many of us embrace Jesus when He feels like a solution to our problems, but hesitate when He challenges our assumptions or disrupts our plans. We welcome Him when He answers prayer the way we hoped, but grow distant when He calls us to forgive, to wait, or to surrender control.

God speaks to this tension in Isaiah 55:8–9: “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways... as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways.” Trusting Jesus means accepting that He leads differently than we expect. His path includes suffering, surrender, and sacrifice. But in the mystery of grace, those are the very roads that lead to healing and hope.

We often want a Savior who will fix our circumstances, not one who will transform our character. We long for relief from discomfort, but resist the invitation to die to self. Yet Jesus comes not to decorate our lives, but to radically reshape them from the inside out. As Bonhoeffer said, “When Christ calls a man, He bids him come and die.”

The Takeaway: The King Who Leads Us Home

Palm Sunday is more than a symbolic story from long ago. It’s a mirror, asking us to reflect on the kind of King we are truly following.

Jesus doesn’t storm into our lives with noise and pressure. He arrives in quiet strength, riding not a warhorse but a donkey. He invites us to follow, not by grasping for power, but by laying it down. His kingdom is for those who hunger for righteousness more than recognition. For those who are willing to serve when no one is watching. For those who are prepared to follow wherever He leads—even when it’s difficult, even when it costs.

So, as Holy Week begins, here’s the invitation:

• To receive the real Jesus—not the one we imagine, but the One who is.

• To let go of the desire for control, and trust that His way, though often unexpected, is always good.

• To follow Him not only in moments of celebration, but on the road that leads to the cross—and, ultimately, to resurrection.

Which King will we follow?