Palm Sunday 2025

My friend, Danielle and her son, Charlie, are together changing the world! So can YOU!

My friend Danielle is the mother of a child with special needs. Her son, Charlie, was born with autism and epilepsy. He needs constant attention. 

A couple of weeks ago, he was rushed to the hospital, and for a few terrifying days, Danielle and her family truly feared that they might lose him.

Thanks be to God, Charlie pulled through. He’s recovering. But in the days that followed, Danielle found herself reflecting on everything her family had just been through — the hospital, the fear, the sleepless nights, the love, the help from others. She wrote about how grateful she felt:

Grateful that Charlie was still with them. 

Grateful for her daughter, Ryan, who stepped up to help at home.

Grateful for her husband, Jim, who wasn’t there when Charlie was born, but who loves him with the fierce devotion of a father.

Grateful for her coworkers who replied to her emails at odd hours, not expecting her to work, but understanding that sometimes doing something normal — like replying to email — gave her a sense of control.

But what struck me most was this line. She said:

“I also feel gratitude for my own suffering. This is a tough one to explain. But in the past, my own suffering has been a kind of ‘pass-through’ emotion — a way of relating to the world and seeing my greater purpose in service to others.”

She went on to say that there’s something beautiful that suffering can bring out in a person — a kind of empathy that can comfort the grieving, help carry someone else’s pain, and yes, even change the world.

I read that and immediately thought: She gets the Cross.

Because that’s exactly what today is about.

Today we heard the Passion — the story of Jesus’ suffering and death. We walked with Him through the Last Supper… through the garden… through the betrayal, the denials, the scourging, the mocking, the Cross. 

And the thing is: we didn’t just hear a story. We entered into a mystery. The mystery of a God who loves us so much, He chose to suffer for us — and with us.

Danielle said her suffering became a “pass-through emotion,” a way of relating to the world with empathy and purpose. 

Isn’t that what Jesus shows us too? That suffering, when offered in love, can become a path — not to despair, but to redemption. Not to bitterness, but to blessing.

Let me be clear: Jesus didn’t suffer because suffering is good. No — He suffered because we suffer. And He refused to let us go through it alone.

He took our place. He carried our grief. He became the one who understands what it is to be abandoned, rejected, misunderstood, wounded. 

And in doing so, He turned the Cross — an instrument of death — into a sign of love.

That’s why we call this Holy Week.
Not because it’s neat or pretty. But because it’s true.

Because love that suffers for others — love that bleeds, and breaks, and bears all things — is the most powerful love of all.

And it doesn’t end in death.
The Cross is not the end of the story.
But it is the doorway.

So here’s the invitation this week: Don’t rush to Easter.
Stand at the foot of the Cross.
Feel the weight of the suffering — not just Christ’s, but your own. The pain you’ve carried. The disappointments, the losses, the moments you’ve said, “Why, Lord?”

And then look at Him.
Because He’s looking at you.
And in that gaze, something amazing happens:
Your suffering is no longer just yours. It becomes His too.
And His love becomes yours.

Danielle finished her post by saying she’s going back to work, feeling grateful — not because life is easy, but because she knows she is held by something greater. Love in the midst of suffering.

So let us walk this week with Jesus.
Let us hold close those in our lives who suffer.
Let us enter into the mystery of the Cross.

Because it is there — and only there — that we begin to glimpse the kind of love that can change the world.

Amen.