All Scriptures quoted are from The New Revised Standard Version unless otherwise quoted.

Several Sundays ago I asked people to spontaneously stand and name the great people in this congregation who had profoundly shaped their faith over the years. Another Sunday, I asked you to stand and tell us of the place you remember taking your first step with Jesus. Do you remember how moving and worshipful those moments were? What if, this morning, I asked you to stand and give witness to something else?

What if you were to stand and name the single greatest burden of sin you are carrying in your life right now? Could you do that? Stop for just a moment and think about it. What is, in fact, the single greatest sin burden you carry? Is it one that others know about or is it one that only you know? Perhaps the people closest to you know nothing about it. Perhaps it’s a relatively new burden; in other cases you’ve carried it for years. Maybe it was a sin you committed just once; in other cases, perhaps it is a sin that has a stranglehold of habit on you that you cannot break no matter what you try. Perhaps it is so painful or embarrassing that you can’t imagine ever telling another soul, not even your spouse.

If you had to stand and make the confession of the greatest private burden of sin you carried with you into this sanctuary this morning, would if help if someone stood with you? Like the soon-to-be ex-Governor of New York? Everyone has weighed in with their opinion of his involvement with a prostitute and what his breach of trust has done to his wife and three teenage daughters. Some can’t believe that a man in his position could have been, as they say, so “stupid.” He busted white collar criminals for a living and then was caught himself by some of the very same traps he once set to catch others.

Really, though, is not sinning a matter of just being smarter? Is there any proof in human history that just knowing better means doing better? For myself, when I’ve done most of the sinning of which I was aware, I knew better at the time. How about you? It’s an age-old problem. Listen to John Donne’s words from several centuries ago. “Wilt thou forgive that sinne where I begunne, which is my sin, though it were done before? Wilt thou forgive those sinnes, through which I runne, and do run still: though I deplore? When thou hast done, thou hast not done, for I have more. Wilt thou forgive that sinne by which I have wonne others to sinne? And, made my sinne their doore? Wilt thou forgive that sinne which I did which I did shunne a yeare, or two: but wallowed in, a score? When thou hast done, thou hast not done, for I have more. I have a sinne of feare, that when I have spunne my last thread, I shall perish on the shore; Swear by thy selfe, that at my death thy sonne shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore; And, having done that, Thou hast done, I feare no more” (John Donne, Hymne to God the Father).

A modern paraphrase of Donne’s words might well be, “Oops! I did it again!” Who would you want standing with you while you made your confession? We’ll get back to that in just a moment.

There are at least two very curious things about Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem. For one, up until now, he’d not been very interested in drawing huge crowds and calling attention to himself. Huge crowds followed him, of course, and listened to him and many found food for the bellies and their souls. Looking carefully at scripture, however, can you find one instance where Jesus sought that out? Not until this moment. In fact, at nearly every opportunity, Jesus sought solitude. He seemed to be keenly aware of how fickle people can be about religion.

Jesus never seemed to take measure of himself or his purpose or his value to God by the size of the crowd that followed. Anyone who suffers privately with the burden of feeling worthless ought to become a serious student of Jesus.

The first unusual thing about Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem is that he made it at all. The second unusual thing about the way Jesus entered Jerusalem is that that he chose a donkey as his mode of transportation. Just like modern day celebrities do with their stretch limos, glitzy clothes and autograph signings, Jesus was making a statement, with his means of transportation. His choice included the foal of a donkey, an animal less than a year old, not even full grown. The people were laying palms on the pathway in front of him, something usually reserved for a political king, not a spiritual savior. They were also crying out, Hosanna! It’s an interesting word. It was a word akin to a verbal applause, a word of praise. Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!

However, the word hosanna, in its Hebrew origin, “Hosanna” could also mean, “Save us!” Even if that’s not exactly what the people were saying, do you think that’s what Jesus was saying coming into town o a donkey’s back? A donkey, perhaps unlike any other animal, is universally understood to be a beast of burden. What do you think Jesus was saying coming into town on a donkey? No question, it was a sign of humility to the crowd, riding a donkey instead of a beautiful white horse like Caesar might have required. But, it was more than that. Jesus’ coming into town on a donkey was saying nothing less than that he came not only to stand by us in our sin, but to actually get under the load of it with us.

In the very first church I served as pastor about thirty years ago, there was a family that had a son about my age who was clearly mentally disabled. After I’d been there about a year, I learned the story. The father was a rancher and some years before he and his son had been clearing some rocks from a field. The son was down in a pit when a huge boulder fell over onto him, partially crushing his head. The father told me that he jumped down into the pit and, with superhuman strength that people often discover in such circumstances, lifted the stone off of the son’s head and saved his life.

We’ve known Jesus would be called Immanuel (Matthew 1:23), which means, God with us. He has come to us in our sin. He has come to stand with us, not against us, but with us. That’s who Jesus is.

Some years ago I pulled up to a stop light in Rockwall, right across from the town square on a busy Saturday. Just across the intersection, a young lady was standing on corner with a hand-printed sign that read, “My parents caught me smoking and this is my punishment.” The light was red long enough for me to catch a glimpse of her parents who were standing just a few feet away from her, under a tree. They were not willing to keep their daughter from bearing the shame of her poor choices. They were willing to bear the shame with her. So it is with God in Jesus. God cannot prevent the shame our sin brings on us. Neither will he abandon us in our shame.

If you want to know who was standing with the Governor of New York the other day other than his wife, you must look with eyes of faith. Jesus was standing there, too. Whatever your sin, as alone as you may feel right now, if you could just look with the eyes of faith, you would see Jesus standing by you, not very far away.

The donkey tells us more. Jesus isn’t standing near us; he has gotten under the load of our sin with us, to bear it away. Christ, as the writer of Hebrews tells us, was offered “to bear the sins of many.” The donkey is not just telling us how humble Jesus was. It is telling us what God is like, and how God responds, even when we embarrass him.

Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you, we are commanded in scripture (Colossian 3:13, NIV). Every act of compassion we express for others was first modeled in the life of the one who came to get under, bear the load, of our sin, not just with us, but, indeed, for us.

You have every right to be proud of your staff. I continued to be encouraged by their spirit, week in and week out. As we share joys and concerns with each other, they give witness of the ways in which they constantly are getting under the load of the burdens of others with them. It’s truly remarkable. And, it is the spirit of this church, as well. From the death of church member to the misery of the homebound to every community ministry this church performs, you have demonstrated the spirit of Colossians 3:13! The whole idea of us bearing with one another under all circumstances is rooted in the very person who came to bear our sins with us so that, having committed them, we won’t die from them. God does not do his saving at a distance; he does it up close, sin-bearing, cross-bearing close.

On several occasions, I’ve asked my family to help me piece together what happened last summer when I was so ill. Virtually an entire month is lost to my memory. My youngest son, Cameron, was alone with me one day in the room. He said that I kept crying out, “Jesus save me I’m dying! Jesus save me! I’m dying!” I have no memory of praying like that. But, it is evidence that that rooted deeply in my psyche, my soul, my very being, is the belief that when we are most oppressed, Jesus is closest.

So, what is your confession this morning? What is your prayer? If you never any thought of donkeys and men like this, maybe this is a good day to start, the last Sunday before Easter.