"i Trust In You, Lord"

“I Trust in You, Lord”

Psalm 31:9-16

How are you doing this morning?

How are you feeling?

This is the fourth Sunday that we have not gathered together as a church family.

For some of us, this may very well be the first time in our adult lives that we have gone four weeks without worshiping together with our brothers and sisters in Christ.

For many of us, Red Bank United Methodist Church is a huge piece of our existence.

The people of this church are our family.

Many of our closest relationships are with members of this church; some of our fondest memories took place among the people of this church.

Some of you were, perhaps, married here or your children were married here.

Many of your kids were baptized where I am standing, and a number of you were baptized here yourselves.

You have knelt at these chancel rails…how many times?

You have prayed here—hundreds, thousands of prayers.

You have shared Communion, some of you have even given your life to Jesus Christ, for the first time, in this place.

It is the primary arena through which your spiritual life has grown.

How many sermons have there been?

How much laughter?

How many tears?

A few days ago, I was in the church library and I happened along a photo album entitled: “Red Bank United Methodist Church Picnic, 1991.”

As I opened it up, I could tell right away that this particular church picnic took place up at Camp Lookout.

And as I scoured through the photos, I saw so many of you.

Some of you looked much younger—I mean it was nearly thirty years ago--and remarkably, others of you looked pretty much the same as you do now.

And as I looked at these pictures, many of you with your young children-many in the prime of your lives—and some of you children yourselves…

…the thought occurred to me just how many of you folks have been a part of this church for a very, very long time.

And so, isn’t it strange to be worshiping online, rather than in this sanctuary?

Especially on Palm Sunday?

I mean, think about it, this is the first Palm Sunday in, at least, 40 years that no child is riding this wooden donkey down the aisle of this church as folks smile and wave palm branches.

Perhaps one or more of your children have been the one to ride the donkey.

Maybe, even you have been the one to ride the donkey.

So, I ask, “How are you doing this morning?

How are you feeling?”

You’ve been isolated for several weeks now.

Some of you live alone.

This social distancing stuff is getting old, is it not?

It is lonely.

And we weren’t created to be alone.

And it’s Palm Sunday.

And we aren’t together.

So, it’s alright to be sad.

It’s alright to be a bit sorrowful this morning.

It’s normal to be rocked by a bit of grief.

And, you know, I think these are some of the feelings Jesus was dealing with on that very first Palm Sunday some 2,000 years ago.

How couldn’t He have been?

He knew what was coming.

He knew what lay ahead.

He knew that even though His disciples and the rest of the crowd were in a state of euphoria as they waved palm branches and crowned Him king, that in a few days Judas would betray Him, the disciples would fall away, Peter would deny Him, the religious leaders would plot to kill Him, Pilate and Herod would sentence Him, and soldiers would mock and beat Him and nail Him to a bloody Cross.

Jesus knew all this, even though, on Palm Sunday He was the Grand Marshal of a big Parade as He entered the city of His death.

And so, in the midst of all this excitement, there is a deepening despair.

There is sorrow.

For Jesus knows what it is means when a smile hides a tear.

In verse 5 of Psalm 31

David writes, “Into your hands I commit my spirit.”

According to Luke 23:46, these are the exact same words Jesus spoke before He took His last breath on the Cross.

A number of scholars speculate that Jesus may have been reciting this entire Psalm as He hung from the Cross.

We don’t know that for sure, but what we do know is that Jesus knew this Psalm very well.

And I think He not only knew the Words, I think He lived them—especially during the last week of His life.

And as He lived them, I bet He was reciting and praying this Psalm over and over again in His head—even as He rode that donkey with all that fanfare.

“Be merciful to me, Lord, for I am in distress…