A Sermon Delivered On Sunday Morning, August 18, 1861, By Pastor C. H. Spurgeon, At The Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington.
Tell the daughter of Zion, “Behold, your King comes to you, meek, and sitting upon a donkey, and a colt the foal of a donkey.” (Mt 21:5)
1. We have read the chapter from which our text is taken; let me now rehearse the incident in your hearing. There was an expectation upon the popular mind of the Jewish people, that Messiah was about to come. They expected him to be a temporal prince; one who would make war upon the Romans and restore to the Jews their lost nationality. There were many who, though they did not believe in Christ with a spiritual faith, nevertheless hoped that perhaps he might be to them a great temporal deliverer, and we read that on one or two occasion they would have taken him and made him a king, but that he hid himself. There was an anxious desire that someone or other should lift the standard of rebellion and lead the people against their oppressors. Seeing the mighty things which Christ did, the wish was father to the thought, and they imagined that he might probably restore to Israel the kingdom and set them free. The Saviour at length saw that it was coming to a crisis. For him it must either be death for having disappointed popular expectation, or else he must yield to the wishes of the people, and be made a king. You know which he chose. He came to save others, and not to be made a king himself in the sense in which they understood him. The Lord had worked a most remarkable miracle; he had raised Lazarus from the dead after he had been buried four days. This was a miracle so novel and so astounding, that it became the talk of the town. Multitudes went out of Jerusalem to Bethany, it was only about two miles distant, to see Lazarus. The miracle was well authenticated; there were multitudes of witnesses; it was generally accepted as being one of the greatest marvels of the age, and they drew the inference from it that Christ must be the Messiah. The people determined that now they would make him a king, and that now he should lead them against the hosts of Rome. He, intending no such thing, nevertheless overruled their enthusiasm that by it he might have an opportunity of performing what had been written about him in the prophets. You must not imagine that all those who strewed the branches in the way and cried “Hosanna” cared about Christ as a spiritual prince. No, they thought that he was to be a temporal deliverer, and when they found out afterwards that they were mistaken, they hated him just as much as they had loved him, and “Crucify him, crucify him,” was as loud and vehement a cry as “Hosanna, blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.” Our Saviour thus availed himself of their mistaken enthusiasm for various wise ends and purposes. It was needful that the prophecy should be fulfilled—“Rejoice greatly, oh daughter of Zion! Shout, oh daughter of Jerusalem! Behold your King comes to you, he is just and having salvation; lowly, and riding upon a donkey, and upon a colt the foal of a donkey.” It was needful again, that he should make a public claim to be the Son of David; and that he should claim to be the rightful inheritor of David’s throne,—this he did on this occasion. It was needful, too, that he should leave his enemies without excuse. In order that they might not say, “If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly;” he did tell them plainly. This riding through the streets of Jerusalem was as plain a manifesto and proclamation of his royal rights as could possibly have been issued. I think, moreover,—and upon this I build the discourse of this morning,—I think that Christ used the popular fanaticism as an opportunity for preaching to us a living sermon, embodying great truths which are too apt to be forgotten because of their spiritual character, embodying them in the outward form and symbol of himself riding as a king, attended by hosts of followers. We come to this as the subject of our sermon. Let us see what we can learn from it.
2. I. One of the first things we learn is this. By thus through the streets in state, Jesus Christ claimed to be a king. That claim had been to a great extent kept in the background until now; but before he goes to his Father, when his enemies’ rage has reached its utmost fury, and when his own hour of deepest humiliation has just arrived, he makes a public claim before the eyes of all men to be called and acknowledged a king. He first summons his heralds. Two disciples come. He sends forth his mandate—“Go into the village opposite you, and you shall find a donkey and a colt.” He gathers together his courtiers. His twelve disciples, those who usually attended him, come around him. He mounts the donkey which of old had been ridden by the Jewish lawgivers, the rulers of the people. He begins to ride through the streets, and the multitudes clap their hands. It is reckoned by some that no fewer than three thousand people must have been present on the occasion; some going before some following after, and others standing on either side to see the show. He rides to his capital; the streets of Jerusalem, the royal city, are open to him; like a king, he ascends to his palace. He was a spiritual king, and therefore he did not go to the physical palace but to the spiritual palace. He rides to the temple, and then, taking possession of it, he begins to teach in it as he had not done before. Sometimes he had been in Solomon’s porch, but he was more frequently on the mountain’s side rather than in the temple; but now, like a king, he takes possession of his palace, and there, sitting down on his prophetic throne, he teaches the people in his royal courts. You princes of the earth, listen; there is one who claims to be numbered with you. It is Jesus, the Son of David, the King of the Jews. Make room for him, you emperors, make room for him! Make room for the man who was born in a manger! Make room for the man whose disciples were fishermen! Make room for him whose garment was that of a peasant, without seam, woven from the top throughout! He wears no crown except the crown of thorns, yet he is more royal than you. Around his waist he wears no purple, yet he is more imperial by far than you. Upon his feet there are no silver sandals decked with pearls, yet he is more glorious than you. Make room for him: make room for him! Hosanna! Hosanna! Let him be proclaimed again a King! a King! a King! Let him value his place upon his throne, high above the kings of the earth. This is what he then did, he proclaimed himself a King.
3. II. Moreover, Christ by this act showed what kind of a king he might have been if he had pleased, and what kind of a king he might be now, if he wished it. Had it been our Lord’s will, those multitudes who followed him in the streets would actually have crowned him then and there, and bowing the knee, they would have accepted him as the branch who sprung out of the dried root of Jesse—him who was to come—the ruler, the Shiloh among God’s people. He had only to have said a word, and they would have rushed with him leading the way to Pilate’s palace, and taking him by surprise, with only few soldiers in the land, Pilate might soon have been his prisoner, and have been tried for his life. Before the indomitable valour and the tremendous fury of a Jewish army, Palestine might soon have been cleared of all the Roman legions, and have become again a royal land. Indeed, we affirm it, with his power of working miracles, with his might by which he drove the soldiers back, when he said, “I am he;” he might have not only cleared that land but every other; he might have marched from country to country, and from kingdom to kingdom, until every royal city and every regal state would have yielded to his supremacy. He could have made those who lived on the isles of the sea to bow before him, and those who inhabit the wilderness could have been bidden to lick the dust. There was no reason, oh you kings of the earth, why Christ should not have been mightier than you. If his kingdom had been of this world, he might have founded a dynasty more lasting than yours; he might have gathered troops before whose might your legions would be melted like snow before the summer’s sun; he might have dashed to pieces the Roman image, until, a broken mass, like a potter’s vessel shattered by a rod of iron, it might have been dashed to pieces.
4. It is even so, my brethren. If it was Christ’s will, he might make his saints, everyone of them, a prince; he might make his Church rich and powerful; he might lift up his religion if he chose, and make it the most magnificent and sumptuous. If it was his will, there is no reason why all the glory we read of in the Old Testament under Solomon, might not be given to the Church under David’s greater Son. But he does not come to do it, and hence the impertinence of those who think that Christ is to be worshipped with a gorgeous architecture, with magnificent vestments, with proud processions, with the alliance of states with churches, with making the bishops of God magnificent lords and rulers, with lifting up the Church herself, and attempting to put upon her shoulders those garments that will never fit her, vestments that were never meant for her. If Christ cared for this world’s glory, it might soon be at his feet. If he willed to take it, who should raise a tongue against his claim, or who should lift a finger against his might! But he does not care for it. Take your trinkets elsewhere, take your tinsel away, he does not want it. Remove your glory, and your pomp, and your splendour, he needs it not from your hands. His kingdom is not from this world, or else his servants would fight, or else his ministers would be clothed in robes of scarlet, and his servants would sit among princes, he does not care for it. People of God, do not seek after it. What your Master would not have, do not court yourselves. Oh! Church of Christ what your husband disdained, disdain also. He might have had it, but he would not. And he read to us the lesson, that if all these things might be the Church’s, it would be well for him to pass by and say, “These are not for me—I was not meant to shine in these borrowed plumes.”
5. III. But thirdly, and here lies the pith of the matter, you have seen that Christ claimed to be a king; you have seen what kind of a king he might have been and would not be, but now you see what kind of a king he is, and what kind of a king claimed to be. What was his kingdom? What was its nature? What was his royal authority? Who were to be his subjects? What were his laws? What was his government? Now you perceive at once from the passage taken as a whole, that Christ’s kingdom is a very strange one, totally different from anything that ever has been seen or ever will be seen besides.
6. It is a kingdom, in the first place, in which the disciples are the courtiers. Our blessed Lord had no prince in waiting, no usher of the black rod, no gentlemen-at-arms. Who supplied the place of those grand officers? Why a few poor humble fishermen, who were his disciples. Learn, then, that if in Christ’s kingdom you wish to be a peer you must be a disciple; to sit at his feet is the honour which he will give you. Hearing his words, obeying his commands, receiving of his grace—this is true dignity, this is true magnificence. The poorest man who loves Christ, or the humblest woman who is willing to accept him as her teacher, becomes at once one of the nobility that wait upon Christ Jesus. What a kingdom this is which makes fishermen nobles, and peasants princes, while they still remain only fishermen and peasants! This is the kingdom of which we speak, in which discipleship is the highest degree, in which divine service is the patent of nobility.
7. It is a kingdom, strange to say it, in which none of the king’s laws are written upon paper. The king’s laws are not promulgated by month of a herald, but are written upon the heart. Do you not perceive that in the narrative Christ bids his servants go and take his royal steed, such as it was, and this was the law, “Loose him and let him go?” but where was the law written? It was written upon the heart of that man to whom the donkey and the foal belonged, for he immediately said, “Let them go” cheerfully and with great joy; he thought it to be a high honour to contribute to the royal state of this great King of peace. So, brethren, in the kingdom of Christ you shall see no huge law books, no attorneys, no solicitors, no barristers, who have need to expound the law. The law book is here in the heart, the barrister is here in the conscience, the law is written no more on parchment, no more promulgated and written, as the Roman decrees were, upon steel and brass, but upon the fleshy tablets of the heart. The human will is subdued to obedience, the human heart is moulded into Christ’s image, his desire becomes the desire of his subjects, his glory their chief aim, and his law the very delight of their souls. Strange kingdom this, which needs no law except those which are written upon the hearts of the subjects.
8. Stranger still, as some will think it, this was a kingdom in which riches were not part of its glory. There rides the King, the poorest of the whole state, for that King had nowhere to lay his head. There rides the King, the poorest of them all, upon another man’s donkey that he has borrowed. There rides the King, one who is soon to die; stripped of his robes to die naked and exposed. And yet he is the King of this kingdom, the First, the Prince, the Leader, the crowned One of the whole generation, simply because he had the least. It was he who had given the most to others, and retained the least for himself. He who was least selfish and most disinterested, he who lived most for others, was King of this kingdom. And look at the courtiers, look at the princes! they were all poor too; they had no flags to hang out from the windows, so they cast their poor clothes upon the hedges, or hung them from the windows as he rode along. They had no splendid purple to make a carpet for the feet of his donkey, so they cast their own toil worn clothes in the way; they strewed along the path palm branches which they could easily reach from the trees which lined the road, because they had no money with which to bear the expense of a greater triumph. Every way it was a poor thing. No spangles of gold, no flaunting banners, no blowing of silver trumpets, no pomp, no state! It was poverty’s own triumph. Poverty enthroned on Poverty’s own beast rides through the streets. Strange kingdom this, brethren! I trust we recognise it—a kingdom in which he who is chief among us, is not he who is richest in gold, but he who is richest in faith; a kingdom which depends on no revenue except the revenue of divine grace; a kingdom which bids every man sit down under its shadow with delight, whether he is rich or poor.
9. Strange kingdom this! But, brethren, here is something perhaps yet more exceedingly wonderful; it was a kingdom without armed force. Oh, prince, where are your soldiers? Is this your army? These thousands who attend you? Where are their swords? They carry branches of palm. Where are their accoutrements? They have almost stripped themselves to pave your way with their garments. Is this your host? Are these your battalions? Oh, strange kingdom, without an army! Most strange King, who wears no sword, but rides along in the midst of his people conquering and to conquer! Strange kingdom, in which there is the palm branch without the sword, the victory without the battle. No blood, no tears, no devastation, no burned cities, no mangled bodies! King of peace, King of peace, this is your dominion! It is even so in the kingdom over which Christ is king today; there is no force to be used. If the kings of the earth should say to the ministers of Christ, “We will lend you our soldiers,” our reply would be, “What can we do with them?—as soldiers they are worthless to us.” It was a bad day for the Church when she borrowed the army of that unhallowed heathen, the emperor Constantine, and thought that would make her great. She gained nothing by it except pollution, degradation and shame; and that Church which asks the civil arm to help it, that Church which would make her Sabbaths binding on the people by force of law, that Church which would have her dogmas proclaimed with beat of drum, and make the fist or the sword to become her weapons, does not know what spirit she has. These are carnal weapons. They are out of place in a spiritual kingdom. His armies are loving thoughts, his troops are kind words. The power by which he rules his people is not the strong hand and the outstretched arm of police or soldiery, but by deeds of love and words of overflowing benediction he asserts his sovereign sway.
10. This was a strange kingdom too, my brethren, because it was without any pomp. If you call it pomp, what singular pomp it was! When our kings are proclaimed, three strange fellows, the like of whom one would never see at any other time, called heralds, come riding forth to proclaim the king. Strange are their clothes, romantic their costume, and with sound of trumpet the king is magnificently proclaimed. Then comes the coronation, and how the nation is moved from end to end with elation when the new king is about to be crowned! What multitudes crowd the street! Sometimes of old the fountains were made to flow with wine, and there was scarcely a street which was not hung with tapestry throughout. But here comes the King of kings, the Prince of the kings of the earth; no spirited steed, no prancing horse which would keep at a distance the sons of poverty; he rides upon his donkey, and as he rides along speaks kindly to the little children, who are crying, “Hosanna,” and wishes well to the mothers and fathers of the lowest grade, who crowd around him. He is approachable; he is not divided from them; he does not claim to be their superior, but their servant; so little stately as a king, he was the servant of all. No trumpet sounds—he is content with the voice of men, no ornaments are upon his donkey, but his own disciple’s garments, no pomp but the pomp which loving hearts willingly yielded to him. Thus on he rides; his is the kingdom of meekness, the kingdom of humiliation. Brethren, may we belong to that kingdom too; may we feel in our hearts that Christ is come to us to cast down every high and every proud thought, so that every valley may be lifted up, and every hill may be abased, and the whole land exalted in that day!
11. Listen again, and this perhaps is the most striking part of Christ’s kingdom—he came to establish a kingdom without taxations. Where were the collectors of the King’s revenue? You say he did not have any; yes he had, but what a revenue it was! Every man took off his garments willingly; he never asked for it; his revenue flowed freely from the willing gifts of his people. The first had lent his donkey and his colt, the rest had given their clothes. Those who scarcely had clothes to part with, plucked the branches from the trees, and here was state for once which cost no man anything, or rather for which nothing was demanded from any man, but everything spontaneously given. This is the kingdom of Christ,—a kingdom which subsists not upon tithe, Church rate, or Easter dues, but a kingdom which lives upon the free will offering of the willing people, a kingdom which demands nothing from any man, but which comes to him with a stronger force than demand, saying to him, “You are not under the law, but under grace; will you not, being bought with a price, consecrate yourself and all that you have, to the service of the King of kings!” Brethren, do you think me wild and fanatical in talking about a kingdom of this kind? Indeed, it would be fanatical if we said that any mere man could establish such a dominion. But Christ has done it, and today there are tens of thousands of men in this world who call him King, and who feel that he is more their King than the ruler of their native land; that they give to him a more sincere homage than they ever give to the best beloved sovereign; they feel that his power over them is such as they would not wish to resist—the power of love; that their gifts to him are all too little, for they wish to give themselves away; it is all that they can do. Marvellous and matchless kingdom! its like shall never be found on earth.
12. Before I leave this point, I should like to remark that apparently this was a kingdom in which all creatures were considered. Why did Christ have two beasts? There was a donkey, and a colt the foal of a donkey; he rode on the foal of the donkey because it had never been ridden before. Now I have looked at several of the commentators to see what they say about it, and one old commentator has made me laugh—I trust he will not make you laugh too—by saying, that Christ telling his disciples to bring the foal as well as the donkey should teach us you infants ought to be baptized as well as their parents, which seemed to me to be an argument eminently worthy of childish baptism. Thinking the matter over, however, I consider there is a better reason to be given,—Christ would not have any pain in his kingdom; he would not have even a donkey suffer by him, and if the foal had been taken away from its mother, there would have been the poor mother in the stable at home, thinking of its foal, and there would have been the foal longing to get back, like those oxen that the Philistines used when they took back the ark, and which went lowing as they went, because their calves were at home. Wondrous kingdom of Christ, in which the very beast shall have its share! “For the creature was made subject to vanity by our sin.” It was the beast that suffered because we sinned, and Christ intends that his kingdom should bring back the beast to its own pristine happiness. He would make us merciful men, considerate even toward the beasts. I believe that when his kingdom fully comes, the animal nature will be put back to its former happiness. “Then the lion shall eat straw like the ox; the nursing child shall play on the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the cockatrice den.” Old Eden’s peacefulness, and the familiarity between man and the lower creatures, shall come back once more. And even now, wherever the gospel is fully known in man’s heart, man begins to recognise that he has no right wantonly to kill a sparrow or a worm, because it is in Christ’s dominion; and he who would not ride a foal without having its mother by its side, that it might be at peace and happy, would not have any of his disciples think lightly of the lowliest creature that his hands have made. Blessed kingdom is this which considers even the beasts! Does God care for oxen? Indeed, that he does; and he cares for the very donkey itself, that heir of toil. Christ’s kingdom, then, shall care for beasts as well as men.
13. Once more: Christ, in riding through the streets of Jerusalem, taught in a public manner, that his kingdom was to be one of joy. Brethren, when great conquerors ride through the streets, you often hear of the joy of the people; how the women throw roses on the pathway; how they crowd around the hero of the day, and wave their handkerchiefs to show their appreciation of the deliverance he has accomplished. The city has been long besieged; the champion has driven away the besiegers, and the people will now have rest. Fling the gates open wide, clear the road and let the hero come; let the lowliest page that is in his retinue be honoured today for the deliverer’s sake. Ah! brethren, but in those triumphs how many tears there are that are hidden! There is a woman who hears the sound of the bells for victory, and she says, “Ah! victory indeed, but I am a widow, and my little ones are orphans!” And from the balconies where beauty looks down and smiles, there may be a forgetfulness for the moment of friends and kindred over whom they will soon have to weep, for every battle is with blood, and every conquest is with woe, and every shout of victory has in it weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth. Every sound of trumpet because the battle is won, does only cover over the cries, the sorrows, and the deep agonies of those who have been bereaved of their kinsfolk! But in your triumph, Jesus, there were no tears! When the little children cried, “Hosanna,” they had not lost their fathers in battle. When the men and women shouted, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord,” they had no cause to shout with bated breath, or to mar their joys with the remembrance of misery. No, in his kingdom there is unalloyed, unmingled joy. Shout, shout, you who are subjects of King Jesus! Sorrows you may have, but not from him; troubles may come to you because you are in the world, but they do not come from him, his service is perfect liberty. His ways are ways of pleasantness, and all his paths are peace
Joy to the world, the Saviour comes,
The Saviour promised long;
Let every heart prepare a tune,
And every voice a song.
He comes to wipe away your tears and not to make them flow; he comes to lift you from your dunghills and set you upon his throne, to fetch you from your dungeons and make you leap in liberty.
Blessings abound where he reigns,
The prisoner leaps to lose his chain;
The weary find eternal rest,
And all the sons of want are blessed.
Singular kingdom this!
14. IV. And now I come to my fourth and last point. The Saviour, in his triumphal entrance into the capital of his fathers, declared to us very plainly the practical effects of his kingdom. Now what are these?
15. 1. One of the first effects was that the whole city was moved. What does that mean? It means that everyone had something to say about it, and that everyone felt something because Christ rode through the street. There were some who leaned from the tops of their houses, and looked down the street and said to one another—“Aha! Did you ever see such fool’s play as this? Humph! Here is Jesus of Nazareth down there riding on a donkey! Surely if he meant to be king he might have chosen a horse. Look at him! They call that pomp! There is some old fisherman has just thrown down his bad smelling garment; I dare say it had fish in it an hour or two ago?” “Look,” one says, “see that old beggar throwing his cap into the air for joy!” “Aha!” they say, “was there ever such a ridiculous thing as that?” I cannot put it in such terms as they would describe it; if I could, I think I would. I should like to make you see how ridiculous this must have seemed to the people. Why, if Pilate himself had heard about it he would have said—“Ah! there is nothing much to fear from that. There is no fear that that man will ever upset Caesar; there is no fear that he will ever overturn an army. Where are their swords? There is not a sword among them! They have no cries that sound like rebellion; their songs are only some religious verses taken out of the Psalms.” “Oh!” he says, “the whole thing is contemptible and ridiculous.” And this was the opinion of a great many in Jerusalem. Perhaps that is your opinion, my friend. The kingdom of Christ, you say, is ridiculous; you do not believe perhaps that there are any people who are ruled by him though we say that we own him as our King, and that we feel the law of love to be a law which constrains us to sweet obedience. “Oh,” you say, “it is fanaticism and hypocrisy.” And there are some who attend where they have golden censers, and altars, and priests, and they say, “Oh! a religion that is so simple—singing a few hymns, and offering extempore prayer!—Ah! give me a bishop with a mitre—a fine fellow in long sleeves—that is the thing for me.” “Oh,” says another, “let me hear the peals of the organ; let me see the thing done scientifically; let me see a little drapery too; let the man come up clad in his proper garb to show that he is something different from other people; do not let him stand dressed as if he were an ordinary man; let me see something in the worship different from anything I have seen before.” They want it clothed with a little pomp, and because if is not so they say—“Ah! Humph!” They sneer at it, and this is all that Christ gets from multitudes of men who think themselves exceedingly wise. He is to them foolishness and they pass by with a sneer. Your sneers will be exchanged for tears before long, sirs! When he comes with real pomp and splendour you will weep and wail, because you disowned the King of Peace.
The Lord shall come! a dreadful form,
With rainbow wreath and robes of storm,
With cherub voice and wings of wind,
The appointed Judge of all mankind.
Then you will find it inconvenient to have treated him with contempt.
16. No doubt there were others in Jerusalem who were filled with curiosity. They said—“Dear me, whatever can it be? What is the meaning of it? Who is this? I wish you would come,” they said to their neighbours, “and tell us the history of this singular man; we should like to know about it.” Some of them said, “He is gone to the temple; I dare say he will work a miracle;” so off they ran, and squeezed and pressed, and thronged to see a marvel. They were like Herod, they longed to see some wonder worked by him. It was the first day of Christ’s coming too, and of course the enthusiasm might last some nine days if he would keep it up, so they were very curious about it. And this is all Christ gets from thousands of people. They hear about a revival of religion. Well, they would like to know what it is, and hear about it. There is something doing at such-and-such a place of worship; well, they would like to go if it were only to see the place. “There is a strange minister says queer things; let us go and hear him. We had intended to go out”—you know who I mean among yourselves—“we had intended to go out on an excursion today,” you said, “but let us go there instead.” Just so, curiosity, curiosity; this is all Christ gets today, and he who died upon the cross becomes a theme for an idle tale, and he who is Lord of angels and adored by men, is to be talked about as though he were a Wizard of the North or some eccentric impostor! Ah! you will find it inconvenient to have treated him thus by and by; for when he comes, and when every eye shall see him, you who merely curiously enquired for him shall find that he shall enquire for you, not with curiosity but with wrath, and it shall be—“Depart, you cursed, into everlasting fire.”
17. But among the crowd there were some who were worse still, for they looked on the whole thing with envy “Ah!” said Rabbi Simeon to Rabbi Hillel, “the people were never so pleased with us. We know a great deal more than that impostor; we have read through all our religious books.” “Do not you remember him,” one says, “that when he was a boy he was rather precocious? You remember he came into the temple and talked with us, and since then he deceives the people,” meaning by that he outshone them; that he had more esteem in the hearts of the multitude than they had, though they were prouder by far. “Oh!” said the Pharisee, “he does not wear any phylactery, and I have made mine very large; I have made my garments almost all borders, so that they may be exceedingly broad.” “Ah!” another says, “I tithe my mint, my anise, and my cummin, and I stand at the corner of the street and blow a trumpet when I give away a penny, but yet people will not put me on a donkey; they will not clap their hands and say, ‘Hosanna’ to me; but the whole earth is gone after this man like a bunch of children. Besides, think of going into the temple disturbing their betters, disturbing us who are making a show of our pretended prayers and standing in the courts!” And this is what Christ gets from a great many. They do not like to see Christ’s cause progress. Indeed, they would have Christ be lean so that they might fatten themselves upon the plunder; they would have his Church be despicable. They like to hear about the falls of Christian ministers. If they can find a fault in a Christian man, “Report it, report it, report it,” they say. But if a man walks uprightly, if he glorifies Christ; if the Church increases; if souls are saved, immediately there is an uproar and the whole city is stirred; the whole uproar begins and is carried on by falsehoods, lying accusations, and slanders against the characters of Christ’s people. In some way or other, men are sure to be moved; if they are not moved to laugh, if they are not moved to enquire, they are moved to envy.
18. But it is blessed that some in Jerusalem were moved to rejoice. Oh! there were many who, like Simeon and Anna, rejoiced to see that day, and many of them went home and said, “Lord, now let you your servant depart in peace, for my eyes have seen your salvation.” There was many a bedridden woman in the back streets of Jerusalem, that sat up in the bed and said, “Hosanna,” and wished that she could get down into the street, so that she might throw her old mantle in the way, and might bow before him who was the King of the Jews. There were many weeping eyes that wiped away their tears that day, and many mourning believers who began from that hour to rejoice with joy unspeakable. And so there are some of you who hear of Christ the King with joy. You join in the hymn; not as we have all joined with the voice, but with the heart.
Rejoice, the Saviour reigns,
The God of peace and love;
When he had purged our stains
He took his seat above;
Rejoice, rejoice,
Rejoice aloud, you saints, rejoice!
19. Such, then, was the first effect of Christ’s kingdom! Wherever it comes, the city is stirred. Do not believe the gospel is preached at all if it does not make a stir. Do not believe, my brethren, that the gospel is preached in Christ’s way if it does not make some angry and some happy; if it does not make many enemies and some friends.
20. 2. There is yet another practical effect of Christ’s kingdom. He went up to the temple, and there at one table sat a lot of men with baskets containing pairs of doves. “Any doves, sir, any doves!” He looked at them and said, “Take these things out of here.” He spoke with a holy furore. There were others changing money as the people came in to pay their half shekel; he overturned the tables and set them all flying, and soon emptied the whole court of all these merchants who were making a gain of godliness, and making religion a stalking horse for their own profit. Now this is what Christ does wherever he comes. I wish he would come in the Church of England a little more, and purge out the sale of advowsons,1 get rid of that accursed simony2 which is still tolerated by law, and purge out the men who are mal-appropriators, who take what belongs to the ministers of Christ, and apply it to their own uses. I wish that he would come into all our places of worship, so that once and for all it might be seen that those who serve God serve him because they love him, and not for what they can get out of it. I wish that every professor of religion could be quite clean in his own conscience that he never made a profession to get respectability or to get esteem, but only made it so that he might honour Christ and glorify his Master. The spiritual meaning of it all is this—We have no houses of God now; bricks and mortar are not holy, the places where we worship God are places of worship, but they are not the houses of God any longer than we are in them. We believe no superstition which makes any place holy, but we are the temple of God. Men themselves are God’s temples, and where Christ comes he drives out the buyers and sellers, he expunges all selfishness. I will never believe that Christ, the King, has made your heart his palace until you are unselfish. Oh, how many professors there are who want to get so much honour, so much respect! As for giving to the poor, thinking it more blessed to give than to receive, as for feeding the hungry and clothing the naked, as for living for other people, and not for themselves—they do not think of that. Oh Master! come into your temple and drive out our selfishness; now come, turn out all those things which would make it convenient to serve Mammon by serving God; help us to live to you, and to live for others by living for you, and not live for ourselves!
21. 3. The last practical effect of our Lord Jesus Christ’s kingdom was, he held a grand levee; he had, if I may so speak, a drawing room day; and who were the people who came to attend him? Now, you courtiers, the disciples, show up your nobility and gentry that are come to wait upon him. Here comes one man, he has a bandage over here, and the other eye has almost failed—show him in; here comes another, his feet are all twisted and contorted—show him in; here comes another limping on two crutches, both his limbs are disabled, and another has lost his limbs. Here they come and here is the levee. The King himself comes here and holds a grand meeting, and the blind and the lame are his guests, and now he comes, he touches that blind eye and light shines in; he speaks to this man with a withered leg, he walks; he touches two eyes at once, and they both see; and to another he says, “I will take away your crutches, stand upright and rejoice, and leap with joy.” This is what the King does wherever he comes. Come here this morning, I beseech you, you great King! There are blind eyes here that cannot see your beauty. Walk, Jesus, walk among this crowd and touch the eyes. Ah! then, brethren, if he should do that, you will say, “There is a beauty in him that I never saw before.” Jesus, touch their eyes, they cannot take away their own blindness, do it for them! Help them to look to you hanging upon the cross! They cannot do it unless you enable them. May they do it now, and find life in you! Oh Jesus, there are some here who are lame—knees that cannot bend; they have never prayed; there are some here whose feet will not run in the way of your commandments—feet that will not carry them up where your name is praised, and where you are held in honour. Walk, great King, walk in solemn pomp throughout this house, and make it like the temple of old! Display here your power, and hold your grand meeting in the healing of the lame and the curing of the blind. “Oh!” one says, “I wish that he would open my blind eyes.” Soul, he will do it, he will do it. Breathe your prayer out now, and it shall be done, for he is near you now. He is standing by your side; he speaks to you, and he says—“Look to me and be saved, you vilest of the vile.” There is another, and he says—“Lord, I wish to be made whole.” He says—“Be whole then.” Believe on him and he will save you. He is near you, brother, he is near you. He is not in the pulpit more than he is in the pew, nor in one pew more than in another. Do not say—“Who shall go to heaven to find him, or into the depths to bring him up?” He is near you; he will hear your prayer even though you do not speak; he will hear your heart speak. Oh! say to him—“Jesus, heal me,” and he will do it; he will do it now. Let us breathe the prayer, and then we will part.
22. “Jesus, heal us! Save us, Son of David, save us! You see how blind we are—oh, give us the sight of faith! You see how lame we are—oh, give us the strength of grace! And now, even now, you Son of David, purge out our selfishness, and come and live and reign in us as in your temple palaces! We ask it, oh you great King, for your own sake. Amen.” And before we leave this place, we cry again, “Hosanna, hosanna, hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.”
http://www.answersingenesis.org/articles/2010/03/02/triumphal-entry-into-jerusalem