The Stone that the Builders Rejected

Scripture Lessons: Psalm 118: 1-2, 19-29 and Luke 19: 28-44 Sermon title: The Stone the Builders Rejected Preached on April 10, 2022 This second Scripture lesson from the Gospel of Luke is so familiar and is read so often that it’s possible to miss how strange it is. It is strange. It starts out strange when you think about it. Consider the owners of the colt and how they must have felt. They caught the disciples when they went to borrow it, and I can imagine the owners of that colt feeling very strange, especially when the disciples explained, “The Lord needs it.” “Well, we kind of need it. That’s why we bought the thing,” they might have said. Consider this plan Jesus comes up with. Based on this plan of His, you can tell He’s not used to borrowing colts, which isn’t a thing, actually. No sheriff in the Wild West ever bought the defense, “But I was only borrowing that steed tied up in front of the saloon,” so the disciples must have felt really awkward when Jesus made this request of them: “Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. [And] if anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it.’” Hearing that request, I imagine they would have been thinking, “My cousin was hanged for stealing a colt back in Nazareth.” Let it sink in how strange this Gospel lesson is. Let it sink in, too, how being a friend to Jesus so often pushes us beyond our comfort zones, just as love always does. Love pushes us beyond our comfort zones, doesn’t it? If it didn’t, how do you explain people who push their dogs around in strollers. You really have to love a dog to push it around in a stroller. Likewise, as a husband and a father, I’ve found myself doing all kinds of things I never thought I’d do. For example, Sara was pregnant with Lily, and we went to have our first family portrait taken. The photographer asked me to put my nose on Sara’s belly button. I looked at the photographer and then at my wife, asking with my eyes, “Are you serious? Do you really want me to do this?” and then I did it. My nose on her belly. Why? Because sometimes we do strange things for people we love. On a plane last week, I was watching a TV show about a lower-middle class teenage girl who wanted to make a big impression at her classmate’s bat mitzvah. She begged her parents to buy a piece of jewelry they couldn’t afford so she could impress this wealthy classmate with what she thought was a super nice gift. Her parents relented, bought the gift, a $100 necklace they put on layaway, and the girl presented her classmate this necklace during the party, only the girl looked at it, said a terse thank-you, and went to the next present she had to open. Feeling rejected, the lower-middle class girl convinced her best friend to help her steal it back. Now that’s friendship. How do you know your friend is really your friend? She’ll help you steal back a gift that went unappreciated. She’ll go and borrow you a colt. Or he’ll let you paint his car checkerboard with flames. I’ll never forget when my two best friends in high school asked me if they could paint my car. I thought it was a great idea, but I told them I needed to ask my parents for permission. When my parents said “yes,” I couldn’t understand why. It was only when I was driving the checkered car around Marietta, and people started telling my parents, “I saw Joe driving down Whitlock. He was going a little fast.” that I understood. How did they know it was me? Well, there weren’t many checkerboard cars around at that time, so I realized I just allowed them to install a tracking device on me. Now, put these two ideas together: the feeling you get when a friend asks you to do something just beyond your comfort zone and a car that announces itself to the community, and you’re on your way to understanding what Palm Sunday is all about. It’s not just palms waved by a crowd of people. It’s not just the Sunday before Easter. When Jesus asks his disciples to borrow a colt, He is announcing Himself to Jerusalem. He is fulfilling an ancient prophecy. He is broadcasting His identity and His intention. More than that, He’s forcing every person in the city to make an uncomfortable choice: Are you with Me, or are you with Rome? Are you a friend of Jesus, or do you truly follow Him with your life? Are you just waving a palm branch, or are you ready to take a risk and become a disciple? It’s a choice that pushed many beyond their comfort zones. In our second Scripture lesson, the Pharisees find themselves on the fence because they’re not comfortable choosing Jesus. In other words, they knew exactly what it all meant, and they weren’t sure they were ready to put their noses on anyone’s belly or steal back anyone’s necklace. When they heard the multitude praising God with a loud voice saying, “Blessed is the king,” it made them nervous because they fully understood what Jesus was doing; they knew exactly what the crowd meant, and it scared them because they’d been waiting for the real king of Jerusalem while treating the emperor like he was it. They were trying to be both these things, not wanting to stand on one side or the other; however, if Jesus is the King of Jerusalem, then that means the emperor isn’t. Therefore, on that Palm Sunday so long ago, they were asked to make an uncomfortable choice, a choice made obvious considering the events of that particular week so many years ago. The same week that Jesus rode into Jerusalem, Pilate, draped in the gaudy glory of imperial power, came riding into town as well. Today, scholars believe that the great irony of Palm Sunday is that there were two parades that same week. Into Jerusalem rode Pontius Pilate on a white horse, surrounded by drums, trumpets, and soldiers at arms, while Jesus rode into the same city that same week on a colt surrounded by crowds of peasants waving palm branches. It was a choice, then, that every citizen had to make: Are you with Rome, or are you with Jesus? Both had a parade, both commanded a crowd, and both claimed to be king. For those crowds on that day so long ago, it would have been like any bold choice you ever made where you chose friendship or love over common sense, for their livelihoods, positions, and possibly their very lives depended on which parade they chose to attend. It was a choice that pushed them beyond their comfort zones. What we know today is that, like billboards, Rome would put up the crucified on the way into any city it controlled to broadcast its power. Yet Jesus rides in on a colt, proclaiming His presence and His identity, risking His life by saying, “I am here, and I am King.” So many rejoiced, but rather than welcome Him, the Pharisees beg Him, “Get your people under control!” Why? Because Rome is listening. Rome is listening, and Rome intended to control the city and broadcast the kingship of the Emperor. The Pharisees, feeling as though Rome were just too strong, felt more comfortable keeping quiet. What’s the matter with that? Following Jesus requires us to step beyond what we are comfortable with. Every day, He calls us to follow Him as He leads us beyond what we are used to and towards the Kingdom of God. “Take up your Cross, the Savior said” is how the hymn goes. If you would my disciple be; Take up your cross with willing heart, and humbly follow after me. That’s a good hymn to sing, though it’s a hard hymn to live. That’s why I admire those two disciples made horse thieves. They heard Him speak, and they decided to follow Jesus. Again, they did the uncomfortable thing. Just as they dropped their nets, turned away from their old lives, and followed Him, they went and borrowed Him a colt, whether they felt comfortable or not. Doing uncomfortable things like that is such a part of growing up and living the Christian life. It’s right there in 1st Corinthians: When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. That’s the life of faith, and so Scripture describes marriage like this: a man will leave his father and mother and will be joined to his wife, and the two will become one flesh. It’s a choice. One or the other, and those who find it too uncomfortable to stop appeasing his parents are forced to live on the set of Everybody Loves Raymond. Friends, we are all the time being asked to leave our old lives behind to follow where He leads, and today I am convinced that the way to choose which way is the right one is by listening to our discomfort by doing strange things, for so often, what we are destined for lies just outside of our comfort zonse, and what brings the most satisfaction isn’t what comes easy but what comes at great cost. This is the way of love. There’s a great stewardship illustration that Mike Velardi shared with me a couple years ago. He encouraged me to use it during our annual pledge campaign. He said that the chicken and the pig were talking about what they would give to the master’s breakfast table. The chicken gladly gave her contribution, two eggs, which she was comfortable giving, while the pig realized he was being asked to make a commitment. Certainly, Palm Sunday is a commitment kind of Sunday. Recognize that what He’s on His way to is not a comfortable contribution but an uncomfortable commitment. That’s where His parade leads. He rides a colt, though He is the lamb of God, Himself the sacrifice to take away the sin of the world. As the great sign of His love, He offers this world His life. Well beyond His comfort zone, He proves that the stone the builders, the Pharisees, and so many others rejected, deserves to be the Chief Cornerstone of our lives. Even when it’s uncomfortable, follow Him. Why? Because by His love, He proves that He can be trusted. Amen.