The Chorus Echoes On

Sunday morning, we were drawn into the crowded streets of Jerusalem. Swirling dust and cries of “Hosanna!” filled the air. Palm leaves were thrown down as Jesus was lifted high.

It was a praise born of faith. The people had not seen victory yet, but we would never know it. Rome’s crushing hand could not reach their hope. It was a praise born of experience. It was a response to what Jesus had done, and who they realized Him to be.

As you read Scripture’s account, the moment seems over as quickly as it begun. Holy Week marches on. Commotion erupts as Jesus overthrows tables and performs public healings. The temple was in chaos, and some who were shouting praise earlier were probably already murmuring in confusion. Notice, though, the faint echoes drifting through the courtyards:

”…the chief priests and scribes saw the wonderful things that he did, and the children crying in the temple, and saying, Hosanna to the son of David…” (‭‭Matthew‬ ‭21‬:‭15‬)

The impact of worship a few hours earlier left its mark.

The praise of the Triumphal Entry was not only hopeful and personal. It was instructive. As moms and uncles and grandmothers waved their palm branches and proclaimed their King, the next generation took notes.

“This is what you do when you’ve seen God work miracles.”

“It doesn’t matter the setting. When the King shows up, we welcome Him with our worship.”

“Let the scoffers mock and the unbelievers criticize. He’s the One we’ve waited for, not them.”

“Praise is so confident of Victory, it doesn’t demand to see one first.”

Long after the parade had died down and the emotional high had worn off, echoes of praise remained. The response of a generation had been shaped. These kids in the temple witnessed Jesus heal the blind and the lame. Without hesitation, they knew what to do.

The children cried, “Hosanna”, because that’s what they had heard. They worshipped in the temple because they witnessed it outside the temple. In fact, it looked so appealing that those children chose it in their free time. When they didn’t even have to. They were in a completely different setting, and no longer surrounded by an atmosphere of worship. They worshipped anyway.

A generation does what a generation sees- in the streets of Jerusalem, and in the sanctuary of Savannah Holy Church of God.

The chorus before the cross must not die with us.

Long after we are gone, our children will have a King who is still worthy. There will still be a God in heaven Who inhabits the praise of His people, and Who moves where He is invited in. Our praise is for Him… but it is also for them. We shape today how the next generation welcomes their King tomorrow.

So even before the ultimate victory we long to see- let our chorus echo on.