Last night I had the most wonderful sleep, dreams filled my mind of the triumphant entry the King made yesterday into Jerusalem. I had hunkered down close to the house the King stayed in overnight. I wanted to be near him.
The fig tree
The King left early this morning with his friends, so I followed him at a distance. He must have been hungry, I know I was. On the road to Jerusalem, he stopped and appeared to be talking to a fig tree. His gesticulations implied a frustrated tone, I could hear something about a tree without fruit being useless, then it withered and died (Matthew 21:18-19).
Their journey ended at the Temple. I stayed near to the group mingling with the heaving crowd. There were money changers everywhere, emphatically pronouncing their services. Animals bleating, birds screeching, deafening noises that added to the chaos.
Then the King exploded, he upturned tables scattering money in a blaze of anger. Animals frightened, scuttled from the Temple, knocking people over. Indignant traders yelled, trying to stop the mad man, pulling at his robes. But the King was too powerful. His abhorrence so apparent that no one could control him. Sweat poured off his brow, as he toppled the last table. From the depths of the King's stomach, an aggrieved compelling voice rocketed out above the crowd.
There were some Jewish leaders nearby and they turned on the King saying, “What are you doing? If God gave you authority to do this, show us a miraculous sign to prove it.”
the King replied. (John 2:18-19)
Wow, this man knew how to stir up a hornet's nest. I began to see the significance of the fig tree. A barren tree that bears no fruit simulates a desolate heart that knows the right words but doesn't know the Truth.
As I watched the King sit, weary with exertion, his hands covering his tears, I felt an overwhelming love for him. He knew, he just knew what was going to happen and his heart bled.
This week is Holy Week a time to ponder on the events leading up to Christ's death and Resurrection. We too are on a journey not necessarily to the same grotesque end, but nonetheless to a place that requires sacrifice, forgiveness and love to walk there.
Come and join me each day as I accompany Jesus on His journey.