03/29/2026 - Psalm 138, Palm Sunday

Scripture: Psalm 138

I will give thanks to you, O Lord, with my whole heart; before the gods I will sing your praise.

I will bow down toward your holy temple and praise your name, because of your love and faithfulness.

For you have glorified your name and your word above all things.

When I called, you answered me; you increased my strength within me.

All the rulers of the earth will praise you, O Lord, when they have heard the words of your mouth.

They will sing of the ways of the Lord, that great is the glory of the Lord.

The Lord is high, yet the Lord cares for the lowly and perceives the haughty from afar.

Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you keep me safe; you stretch forth your hand against the fury of my enemies; your right hand shall save me.

O Lord, you will make good your purpose for me; O Lord, your love endures forever; do not abandon the work of your hands.

With songs and shouts of praise, Jesus has been welcomed into Jerusalem. The people welcome him as the descendant of King David, in the hope and belief that he will be the one to re-establish the kingdom of Israel that David once ruled over.

Over the next few days they will learn that the kingdom Jesus is bringing isn’t quite the one they expected. But for now, they are singing songs of praise. For now, they are thankful.

And Psalm 138 is a song of thanksgiving, written by Jesus’s ancestor David in gratitude for having been delivered from a crisis in which he cried out to God for help. What distinguishes a psalm of thanksgiving from a psalm of praise is that this is written by an individual for God. There is no command for the community to sing together. Instead this is a solo, perhaps sung in the quiet of the evening as the exhaustion of the post-crisis adrenaline crash sets in.

We’ve all been in the aftermath of crises where we’ve just felt exhausted and completely drained, but still so thankful that we’re on the other side. This happened to me in 2021 when I was living in Texas. That February, we got a series of brutal winter storms that completely wrecked the Texas power grid. I ended up being one of the millions of people who were without power in sub-zero temperatures. Thankfully I was only fully without power for around a day, as my neighborhood ended up on rolling blackouts fairly quickly all things considered. We’d get power for around 30 minutes to an hour, where we’d rush to get a hot meal, take showers, and check the news, before losing power again for eight hours. But my grandparents didn’t get any power back for five days, and plenty of my friends didn’t have water either for over a week.

It was a horrific crisis that we were completely unprepared for, and for days it felt like we were running on adrenaline trying to make sure everyone we knew was safe and at least somewhat warm. And once the immediate danger was over, we were exhausted but oh so grateful to be safe, warm, and able to see once the sun set. None of us had the energy to celebrate or throw a party. Instead we thanked God we made it through, and went to get a good night’s sleep where we weren’t shivering the entire time.

Psalm 138 is a psalm that could’ve easily been sung in a similar exhausted state, thanking God for seeing them through a crisis and trusting that God will be there in the next one as well. And while the Psalm is written completely in the first person, David doesn’t only focus on how God has strengthened them or been present with them. Halfway through we see David dedicate a few verses to talking about how all the rulers of the world will also praise God when they learn of God’s promises of love and faithfulness. It’s a way to show that God is greater than any authority on earth, because monarchs would not praise someone who they consider beneath them.

But then King David is then quick to point out that even though kings and queens and emperors would praise God, God does not give them priority over others. In fact God is said to “care for the lowly and perceive the haughty from afar.” And I think we see this on full display with how Jesus chose to enter into Jerusalem, riding on a donkey with his closest friends around him. Especially in comparison to another parade happening on the other side of the city around the same time.

During Jesus’s life, the province of Judea was under the governorship of Pontus Pilate, who in just a few days will be the one to hand Jesus over to be crucified. And every year before Passover, when our passage takes place, Pilate would travel to the city of Jerusalem to oversee security during what was often a very politically volatile time. Passover is the celebration of the Hebrew people being liberated from slavery in Egypt. It’s not hard to see how some of their descendants saw connections between Egypt and Rome as they tried to survive being occupied by the empire.

So Pilate would bring with him a large retinue of soldiers to reinforce the garrison of Jerusalem. And they would enter in a magnificent parade, one so big and pompous that it would be impossible to miss.

Pilate would ride in on tall, strong warhorse, putting himself head and shoulders above the the crowds. He would be surrounded by the phalanxes of soldiers in full armor, carrying tall, heavy shields and long, sharp spears. They would be met on the road by high-ranking Roman officials who stayed year-round in Jerusalem, as well as the commander of the garrison with many of the high ranking soldiers. Musicians would sing songs and poems of praise, incense perfume the air, and banners would be flown, then Pilate would be escorted into the city by the festive, militant entourage.

This wasn’t a celebration for most of the people in the streets. This was a reminder of the power, wealth, and absolute authority that Rome had over their lives. A life where war and violence almost always hummed in the background, embodied in the marching feet and glinting armor of the soldiers separating the officials from the common people. Ultimately the goal of these parades was to remind the people of the towns and territories that Rome occupied exactly who was in charge, and how futile it would be to try and change that. It was a warning not to try anything during Passover that might disrupt the status quo, to do nothing that would challenge the might of Rome.

And normally this procession was very effective in doing that.

Because most years as they walked through the streets, they would be watched by the regular townspeople, eyes wide and wary as they watched the procession go past. The musicians, heralds, and servants would encourage the crowds to cheer, but it would be forced, inauthentic.

But not this year.

Because at the same time Pilate enters the city through the western gates, Jesus enters Jerusalem through the eastern gates. Instead of riding on a tall warhorse, letting him look down on everyone around him, he rides on a colt, which here is another name for a young donkey. An animal that’s much closer to the ground, that would’ve had Jesus at eye level of the people gathered in the streets. Instead of being surrounded by soldiers with shields and spears, he’s surrounded by his disciples, laughing in awe at the gathering crowds

Speaking of which, instead of being greeted by the Roman officials and high society, Jesus was greeted by women abandoning their morning shopping. Children running to get a closer look. Beggars standing up to be able to see. Carpenters setting down their hammers and nails, and day laborers throwing down their heavy burdens to shout and cheer.

Instead of waving incense and banners made of fine cloth, they waved palm branches and their own jackets and robes that they pulled off of their backs. And instead of singing songs in praise of Pilate, they shout “Hosanna.” “Hosanna,” which can translate to, “Save us, we pray.”

Because they could have a parade too. They could march in the streets not as soldiers supporting an empire hell-bent on conquest, but as an oppressed people celebrating the arrival of their Savior. They could shout out prayers for salvation not to someone who came in the name of Cesar, but to someone who came in the name of God. And with every wave of the palms and with every jacket spread on the ground, they took power away from the gaudy spectacles pushed on them by Rome. They created their own spectacle with what they had, celebrating the arrival of the Messiah they thought would overthrow the Rome represented by the governor entering the gates on the opposite side of the city.

They pray to the Messiah that has brought healing to them, instead of more violence, who has performed miracles instead of war.

And most of all, they celebrate the Messiah that cares for the lowly and perceives the haughty from afar, where they are still carrying on their own parade, with nobody to witness as they traipse through the streets.

One day, even emperors of Rome will glorify God’s name, albeit warping it into their image. But that’s not happening today.

Today as evening falls, the shouts of Hosanna begin to fade. The jackets and robes are picked up out of the dust, shaken off, and carried to tubs to be washed. The palm branches are used as kindling for the fires to cook the evening meal. Jesus and the disciples retreat to where they are staying in Bethany, a town a little ways outside of Jerusalem. The rush of the day is starting to wear off and tiredness is starting to creep in. As they settle in for bed, the disciples are blissfully unaware of what’s in store as they eat their evening meal and turn in for a good night’s sleep. In just a few days, they will be faced with one of the most difficult moments in their lives. On the heels of celebration and joy comes fear and sorrow, which will quickly be followed by joy and celebration again just a week from this day.

But that’s not today. For now, the disciples’s ears still ring with shouts of “Hosanna,” and the bright colors of the jackets and the green of the palms still flash in their eyes.

But Jesus knows what’s coming next. So even in the middle of the parade, surrounded by his friends and his community, he probably can’t quite fully relax and enjoy the moment.

But isn’t that how life goes sometimes? We can find ourselves in the middle of moments of joy where we feel like we should be celebrating, we should be joyful, we should be singing songs of praise with others.

But sometimes that’s just not where we’re at. And Psalm 138 is a Psalm for those times. Because sometimes all we can muster is tired gratefulness, where we praise God for their steadfast love and faithfulness, reaffirm that God cares for everyone no matter their station in life, and ask that God continues to do the good work God has already begun.

No matter if we find ourselves in fearful and sorrowful witness to Pilate parading through the streets on a war horse, or dancing in joy in the streets with a carpenter’s son riding on a donkey, God’s love is present there.

Because God’s love endures forever, no matter where we are, or what’s coming down the road tomorrow.