Introduction: Why I Keep Coming Back to Holy Week
Every year, as Easter comes around, I find myself reflecting on Holy Week all over again. Maybe it’s because the story is so familiar, or maybe it’s because every time I walk through it, something new stands out. This past year, while reading the Gospels and working through my own small steps with God, Holy Week took on a fresh urgency. What was it really like for the apostles? What does all of this mean for us now? I want to share my reflections—honest, sometimes messy, and very real—about why this ancient story keeps grabbing my heart and what it has to say about my own life today.
Palm Sunday: What Were We Hoping For?
Holy Week starts with Palm Sunday—a day filled with excitement, hope, and expectation. I can almost hear the crowds shouting, “Hosanna!” as Jesus enters Jerusalem. The palm branches, the shouting, the sense that something huge was about to happen. Everyone expected a victory, but not the kind Jesus had in mind. People wanted a political revolution or religious purification; some wanted tax relief, others wanted the Romans gone. Even the apostles must have felt it—“This is it! Jesus is finally going to take over!” But that’s not what happened. The triumphal entry wasn’t about worldly power; it was about a different kind of kingdom.
This hits home for me. How many times do I want God to fix my external problems when He’s working on my heart instead? Palm Sunday reminds me to check my own expectations. Am I open to a victory I didn’t plan for?
Cleansing the Temple: The Cost of Integrity
The next day, Monday, brings the dramatic moment where Jesus cleanses the temple. I’ve read this story so many times, but lately it hit me in a new way. It’s not just about chasing out the money changers—it’s a challenge to everything corrupt or self-serving in religious life. I heard someone say that the real issue wasn’t just that people were making money, but what kind of witness this gave to outsiders about God. If I claim to follow Jesus, what am I showing people about Him?
This moment reminds me that my faith is never just about me. The way I live, the choices I make, and the way I treat others—especially when no one is looking—are a testimony to the world. Integrity is costly, but it’s always worth it.
Tuesday and Wednesday: Tension, Teaching, and Betrayal
The middle of Holy Week is filled with tension. Jesus teaches in parables, debates religious leaders, and predicts the destruction of the temple and His own death. I can imagine the apostles watching things escalate, feeling both excited and terrified. And then comes the shock—Judas decides to betray Jesus. Why? Was he trying to force Jesus into action? Did he just lose faith? I don’t know, but I do know that confusion and disappointment are part of following Jesus, even now.
These days remind me that faith is sometimes confusing. I don’t always understand what God is doing, but I have to trust anyway.
Maundy Thursday: Serving When It’s Hard
Thursday night is the Last Supper. Jesus, knowing everything that’s about to happen, chooses to wash His disciples’ feet. He takes bread and wine, gives thanks, and shares it, telling them to remember Him. He’s the ultimate servant—even as He faces betrayal and death. In Gethsemane, He prays in agony and asks His friends to keep watch with Him, but they can’t stay awake.
Every time I reflect on this, I’m struck by how Jesus chooses love and service, even when it costs everything. It’s a call for me, too. Am I willing to serve others when it’s inconvenient or uncomfortable? Am I remembering the heart behind the rituals, not just the form?
Good Friday: The Cross and My Own Fears
Good Friday is the day everything falls apart. Jesus is arrested, tried, beaten, mocked, and crucified. The apostles scatter. Only a few women and John are there at the cross. As I think about this, I realize how messy and disappointing it must have felt. This wasn’t how the story was supposed to end. Yet, even in the darkest moment, Jesus speaks words of forgiveness, fulfills prophecy, and transforms the very instrument of shame—the cross—into a symbol of hope.
It’s hard for me to really imagine the fear and confusion of that day. But it comforts me to know that even the closest followers of Jesus were scared and didn’t understand. And it challenges me: do I trust God’s goodness even when things make no sense?
Holy Saturday: Living in the Uncertainty
Holy Saturday is a day we don’t talk about enough. I called it “Wigged Out Saturday” in my podcast, because I’m pretty sure everyone was just completely lost. Jesus was dead. The dream was over. The apostles were hiding, ashamed, and afraid. How often do I find myself living in those in-between spaces—when the promises of God feel far away, and all I can see is confusion and silence?
Saturday teaches me that waiting is still part of the journey. Faith means holding on when I can’t see the outcome, trusting that God is still at work in the silence.
Easter Sunday: A Joy No One Expected
Then comes the surprise. The women go to the tomb and find it empty. Jesus is alive. The very people who weren’t expected to be witnesses become the first to tell the good news. The apostles are slow to believe, but Jesus shows up, again and again, offering peace, forgiveness, and a new beginning.
Easter reminds me that hope is never as far away as it seems. The resurrection changes everything. It’s not just a happy ending—it’s a whole new story, for me and for everyone.
Conclusion: Why Holy Week Still Matters
As I look back on Holy Week, I’m reminded that the story isn’t neat or predictable. It’s full of disappointment, confusion, and then, out of nowhere, incredible joy. It shows me my own doubts and failures, but also God’s relentless love and power to redeem. No matter how late it feels or how far I think I’ve fallen, the invitation is still open: to receive grace, to trust again, to walk in the light of resurrection.
If you’re reading this and feeling stuck or overwhelmed, remember—the story isn’t over yet. Easter means there is always hope, even on your own “Wigged Out Saturday.” Jesus isn’t done with you, and the best part of your story might still be ahead. Happy Easter!