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A Witness Then, a Witness Now

EDITOR’S NOTE: This was originally published last Palm Sunday. It has been updated to reinforce the need for ALL of us to WITNESS.

Palm Sunday: A Witness Then, A Witness Now

Jerusalem is overflowing with pilgrims for Passover, and like many of them, I had heard whispers about the Teacher from Nazareth. I was there four days ago when He entered the city riding on a donkey. I waved with the crowd while my husband, Josiah, laid palm branches along the road. I had never seen Jesus before, and I strained to catch a glimpse.

He looked like any other man—bearded, long‑haired, simply dressed. I leaned toward Josiah and whispered, “I don’t see what’s so special about Him.”

And then Jesus turned. His eyes met mine—steady, searching, knowing. In that single moment, I felt exposed and understood all at once. He knew the child I had lost, the poverty we lived in, the quiet discontent I carried. I braced myself for judgment.

Instead, He smiled. A gentle, knowing smile. He touched His hand to His heart, and I felt something inside me loosen. I knew I was forgiven. I knew I was loved.

“He is the Messiah,” I whispered, though the crowd’s shouts nearly swallowed my words.

Four days later, I stood on a hill outside the city—the Place of Skulls. Josiah didn’t want me to come, but he didn’t forbid me. I had spoken of little else but Jesus since the day He looked into my soul.

The scene before us was unbearable. Soldiers gambled for His cloak. Others mocked Him: “If You are the Son of God, come down from there!” But Jesus looked at them with pity. “Father, forgive them,” He said, and even the soldiers lowered their heads.

A criminal crucified beside Him gasped, “Remember me when You come into Your kingdom.” Jesus answered, “This day you will be with Me in Paradise.” A young woman at the foot of that cross wept with relief.

I saw His mother, Mary, leaning on John. Her grief was deeper than words, yet her courage held her upright. Jesus entrusted them to one another with His final acts of love.

The sky darkened. The earth trembled. And then His voice rang out—strong, sure: “It is finished… Father, into Your hands I commit My spirit.” When His head fell, even a Roman soldier cried, “Surely this Man was the Son of God!”

Josiah led me away as my tears soaked his tunic. I turned back once more toward the Cross. I had been a witness.

And now I knew what I must do: for the rest of my life, I would tell what I had seen. I would not let the memory fade. I would not let His love go unspoken.

We, too, are called to witness—not only with our words, but with our lives. The world still needs to hear what we have seen and known of Him.

Takeaway

Christ’s love is too powerful to keep to ourselves. Every believer carries a story that can strengthen another soul. Witnessing is not a moment—it is a lifelong calling.

Prayer

Lord Jesus, You looked upon the crowds with compassion, and You look upon us the same way today. Give us courage to speak of Your mercy, boldness to live as Your witnesses, and tenderness to share Your love with a world in need. Let our lives point to You—our Savior, our Redeemer, our King. Amen.

 

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Linda Cobourn

Linda Cobourn picked up a pencil when she was nine and hasn’t stopped writing since, but she never expected to write about adult autism and grief. When her husband died after a long illness, she began a remarkable journey of faith with her son, an adult with Asperger’s syndrome. The author of Tap Dancing in Church, Crazy: A Diary, and Scenes from a Quirky Life, she holds an MEd in Reading and an EdD in Literacy. Dr. Cobourn also writes for Aspirations, a newsletter for parents of autistic offspring. Her work in progress, tentatively titled Finding Dad: A Journey of Faith on the Autism Spectrum, chronicles her son’s unique grief journey. Dr Cobourn teaches English as a Second Language in Philadelphia and lives with her son and a fat cat named Butterscotch in Delaware County. She can be contacted on her blog, Quirky, and her Amazon author page. 

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