by Jerry Lewis

It may be Sunday, but Friday’s coming.

The sun is shining brightly. The crowds are brimming with excitement.

It may be Sunday, but Friday’s coming.

They find a donkey. They pull off their cloaks to saddle the donkey. Jesus, their supposed king rides down into Jerusalem on that donkey.

It may be Sunday, but Friday’s coming.

The crowd throws their coats down in the road. They cut palm branches and soften the path for Jesus as rides into the eastern gate. They are shouting “Hosanna!” They’re waving palm branches.

It may be Sunday, but Friday’s coming.

It’s Friday. The crowd tears their clothes with anger. They clench their fists. They wave in defiance.

It’s Friday. Jesus is hanging, bleeding, dying. The crowd is mocking. The disciples have fled. Mary weeps. Jesus is crying. To his Father.

They took his clothes. And gambled for them.

It’s Friday…but Sunday’s coming.