"Palm Passion Sunday"

Billy D. Strayhorn

Three Short Vignettes to be read as after appropriate Scripture

as part of a larger Palm/Passion Sunday Service

"It Wasn't The Nails"

Although the pain must have been excruciating beyond compare, for Jesus it wasn't the nails that hurt the most or that cut the deepest. It was the kiss. The kiss of betrayal. The kiss that knowingly set into motion the events leading up to Jesus' crucifixion and death.

There have been times when we have all knowingly betrayed Jesus just as easily as Judas. There have been times when we've left the warmth of worship, feeling a sense of love and compassion for all of God's children. We've resolved to live like Christ only to have one of God's children cut us off in traffic or totally mess up our lunch order and we let loose with a string of invectives that would embarrass an old sailor. Maybe after our morning devotion we catch ourselves fantasizing and secretly plotting against someone who has hurt us. It's then that we realize that we really aren't acting or living like Christ, that we, too, have kissed him on the cheek.

We hang our head a little in shame and say, "Sorry, Lord!"

Although Scripture doesn't record it, I'm sure that's what Judas said to Jesus just before he kissed him and they lead him away to be crucified. "Sorry, Lord!" Just remember, it wasn't the nails that broke Jesus' heart, it was the kiss.

"The Smell Of The Smoke Still Lingers"

The Gospel of John says that Peter was warming his hands over a charcoal fire when this confrontation took place. His clothing and his accent gave him away. Peter stood out like a West Texas cattle rancher asking for directions in the Bronx.

Peter was the disciple with the heart of gold and feet of clay. When confronted about his association with Jesus, he not only denied that he knew Jesus, he cursed and swore an oath saying, "I don't know the man," not once but three times.

I envision that Peter looked across that charcoal fire and into the loving eyes of Christ and at that very moment the cock crowed and Peter remembered the words of Jesus concerning his denial. The smell and the smoke of the charcoal fire hung heavy in the air and he ran. He saved himself but the smell of the smoke still lingered. From that day on, every time he smelled a charcoal fire he remembered.

Have you ever smelled the charcoal smoke and looked across the fire into the loving eyes of Jesus? Have you ever denied you knew him and heard the rooster crow? The smell of the smoke still lingers.

"Hung Out To Die"

It wasn't pretty, or antiseptic. It was ugly and brutal and showed the worst side of humanity's fall.

It was a brutal day. Thirty-nine lashes with the whip. A crown of thorns pushed down upon his brow. A massive cross drug through the crowd which jeered and taunted him every agonizing step of the way. And then . . . the nails.

The Son of God who knew no sin. The Gentle Shepherd who invited children to sit on his lap. The Great Physician, who healed and comforted others. Christ Jesus, our Lord and Savior, was stretched out upon a cross and hung out to die between two thieves.

And there, in the most ignoble position in the world, filled with agony, his throat dry and parched and his lips cracked, the Son of God looked to heaven and with outstretched arms whispered, "Father, forgive them, they know not what they do..."

They hung Him out to die but with a heart as big as the universe and outstretched arms that encircled all time and all of humanity, the Son of God cried out, "Father, forgive them, they know not what they do..." And then He died for me and you.