Palm Sunday

Introduction

It’s the beginning of Holy Week.

For Jesus, the road has been long. From dusty Galilean villages to crowded synagogues, from healing lepers on the outskirts to confronting the religious elite in the center of power—every step has been leading to this moment. Now He stands at the edge of Jerusalem, the holy city. The city that kills prophets. The city that has been waiting for a Messiah.

Imagine the scene.

The Passover is near. Tens of thousands of people are flooding into Jerusalem. There’s tension in the air. Excitement. Hope. The people are tired of Roman rule. Tired of corrupt leadership. They're longing for something new. They’ve heard the stories of Jesus—how He opened blind eyes, calmed storms, fed crowds, even raised the dead. Whispers fill the streets: “Could this be Him? The One we've been waiting for?”

And then it happens.

Jesus approaches on a donkey—not a war horse, but a symbol of peace. And as He rides, something remarkable takes place: The people start laying things down.

They pull off their cloaks—maybe the only one they own—and throw it in the dirt. They run into the fields, cut down palm branches, and spread them on the road like a royal carpet. And they shout: "Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!" "Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David!"

This is no small moment. This is a declaration. This is surrender. This is worship. They are giving Jesus access. They're saying, “Come in, King. Have Your way.”

But here’s what strikes me about this scene—and what challenges me deeply:

They didn’t just cheer. They laid something down.

They gave up something valuable—something personal—so that Jesus could come in. They didn’t know everything He was about to do. They didn’t have a complete picture of how the week would unfold. But in that moment, they made space. They made room. They said, “Jesus, You’re welcome here.”

And that brings us to the question that sits right at the heart of Palm Sunday—not just what they laid down, but what we will lay down. Because Jesus is still approaching hearts. He’s still entering into lives. He’s still looking for places where He can bring peace, healing, and transformation.

But here’s the truth: He doesn’t walk over what we’re unwilling to lay down.

So today, the invitation is this: Let Jesus walk in. Let Him have your life. But to do that—you’ve got to be willing to lay something down.

What’s in the way? What are you holding on to? What needs to be surrendered so that Jesus can do something new in you?

Body

1. Jesus’ Purpose (vv. 1–6)

Mark tells us that as Jesus and His disciples approach Jerusalem, they come to Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives. Jesus pauses. He sends two of His disciples on a very specific mission:

“Go into the village ahead of you. As soon as you enter it, you will find a colt tied there, which no one has ever ridden. Untie it and bring it here.” (v. 2)

Now, on the surface this sounds like a small detail. But there’s nothing random about it. Jesus is fulfilling a very specific prophecy—Zechariah 9:9:

“Behold, your king is coming to you; righteous and having salvation is he, humble and mounted on a donkey…”

This moment has been planned since eternity past. Jesus is making a statement—not of power the way the world defines it, but of humble authority. He is a King, but not a tyrant. He comes not to crush enemies but to lay down His own life.

Notice this: before Jesus ever asks the people to lay something down, He is already preparing to lay Himself down.

That’s the heart of our Savior. He doesn’t demand what He’s not first willing to give. He’s not entering our lives to dominate but to redeem, to heal, and to lead us in peace.

And the fact that He comes on a donkey—not a war horse—is so significant. War horses were for kings who wanted to take control by force. But donkeys? That’s how kings of peace entered a city.

Jesus comes to offer peace, not demand submission. But make no mistake—He comes with purpose. He comes to change things. He comes to establish His kingdom in hearts that are ready for Him.

But He won’t force His way in. He walks in only when there’s room.

2. The People’s Response (vv. 7–10)

Once the disciples bring the colt, Jesus mounts it and begins to ride into the city.

And here’s where the scene becomes electric.

People begin throwing their cloaks on the road. Others cut leafy branches from the fields and spread them out as well. The crowd begins to shout:

“Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David! Hosanna in the highest!”

This is royal treatment. This is public praise. This is hope in action.

But let’s look at what they’re actually doing:

They laid down their cloaks.

For many people in the first century, a cloak was your most valuable possession. It kept you warm, served as a blanket, protected you from the weather. It wasn’t a fashion statement—it was survival.

So when people took off their cloaks and laid them on the ground, they were saying: “I would rather honor Him than keep what protects me.” “Let Jesus ride over what I usually rely on.”

That’s powerful. Are we willing to lay down our protections? Our comforts? The things we use to shield ourselves?

They laid down branches—symbols of joy, national pride, and expectation.

In Jewish tradition, palm branches were used during festivals to celebrate deliverance. In this context, they’re waving them and laying them down because they believe Jesus is about to deliver them from Rome.

But Jesus isn’t coming to overthrow Rome. He’s coming to overthrow something far more dangerous—sin, death, and separation from God.

So here’s what happens: The people laid down things based on their expectation of what Jesus would do—but not necessarily based on who He actually was.

And many of them would turn on Him by Friday.

Why? Because He didn’t meet their expectations. They wanted Jesus to take up a sword. Instead, He took up a cross.

And yet—don’t miss this—even in their misunderstanding, they laid things down. They made room. They gave Him a path. And for at least a moment, they surrendered.

Conclusion

What Do You Need to Lay Down?

Here’s the truth for all of us in the room today:

Jesus still enters where things are laid down.

He still walks into lives, families, and hearts when we’re willing to surrender space to Him.

So let me ask you: What’s in the way? What’s covering the road of your heart, your schedule, your priorities?

Are you holding onto fear—afraid of what it would mean to give Jesus full control?

Are you clinging to your plans, hoping God will just bless what you already decided to do?

Is there unforgiveness that you’ve refused to lay down, a weight you’ve been dragging behind you for years?

Maybe it’s your identity—the labels you’ve given yourself, or the ones others gave you.

Maybe it’s a secret sin, a source of shame, or an area you’ve just never surrendered.

Whatever it is—you can lay it down. Because the King is coming. And He’s ready to walk in. But He won’t trample your pride. He won’t force Himself in.

He walks on what we lay down. He moves where we make room. He transforms what we surrender.

Altar Time

Today, I want to invite you to do more than just sing a closing song. More than nod and say, “Good sermon.” Today is a chance for you to respond.

Let this moment be your “Palm Sunday” moment—not just waving your hands in worship, but laying something down.

As we pray and as the music plays… Take a posture of surrender.

You may want to come forward and kneel. You may want to open your hands where you sit. You may want to write something down—a name, a fear, a habit—and symbolically lay it at the cross.

But whatever you do, don’t leave the road cluttered.

Jesus is coming in. And He wants to do something new in you—this week, this year, today.

But it starts with surrender. So… what will you lay down?