"The Good News Is...Inspiring Us to Act" (March 29, 2026 Sermon)

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The Good News Is...Inspiring Us to Act

Rev. Dr. Stephen M. Fearing

Guilford Park Presbyterian Church

Palm Sunday — Sunday, March 29, 2026

Text: Mark 11:1-11

Scripture Reading

When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples and said to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it. If anyone says to you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ just say this: ‘The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.’ ” They went away and found a colt tied near a door, outside in the street. As they were untying it, some of the bystanders said to them, “What are you doing, untying the colt?” They told them what Jesus had said, and they allowed them to take it. Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it, and he sat on it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting,

“Hosanna!
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

Then he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple, and when he had looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve.

Recognizing What We Miss

Sometimes, I just don’t recognize the things I should. I don’t recognize grace when it’s right in front of me. I don’t see beauty when I’m overwhelmed by the world’s brokenness. I don’t notice my body telling me to rest because I’ve been conditioned to live in a constant state of productivity. Sometimes, I just don’t recognize the things I should.

But God’s Spirit has a funny way of tapping me on the shoulder in unexpected moments—moments when the Holy disturbs my stubborn, sterile routine.

Throughout Mark’s Gospel, the disciples consistently fail to recognize Jesus for who he is, despite his parables, his sermons, and his miracles. After Jesus calms the storm in chapter 4, they ask, “Who then is this, that even the wind and sea obey him?” In chapter 6, after Jesus feeds the multitudes, Mark tells us they did not understand what had happened, and that their hearts were hardened. In chapter 8, Peter comes close when he says, “You are the Messiah,” only to recoil when Jesus makes clear that this Messiah must suffer, be rejected, and die. Again and again, they miss it. They argue about who is greatest. They shrink back from Jesus’ predictions of suffering. They even try to stop someone casting out demons in Jesus’ name because he wasn’t “one of them.” Sometimes, the disciples just don’t recognize the things they should.

But after all these missteps, Mark gives us a recognition scene, a moment that invites the disciples—and us—to see what has been in front of us all along. Because we, too, often prefer a Messiah who comes with drones instead of a donkey. Palm Sunday asks whether we know how to recognize power when it arrives wrapped in humility, service, and borrowed things—cloaks, colts, and leafy branches.

A Different Kind of Power

In previous Palm Sunday sermons, I’ve mentioned that this ritual would have been easily recognizable to any inhabitant of Jerusalem. Such pageantry was common when the Romans celebrated another military victory. In those familiar scenes, the acclamations of occupied people may have been more coerced than celebratory; a hosanna, if you will, with a scowl when the Roman guards looked the other way. But the hosannas in today’s text are full-throated; hosannas that came from a deep place of longing for an alternative to the fear-fueled domination of their Roman oppressors.

So, on one hand, this pageantry would have been easily recognizable. However, Jesus puts his unique spin on the act of political theater. Instead of a horse, he uses a donkey. Instead of soldiers, he’s followed by a ragtag group of outcasts. Instead of marching to a victory by the standards of common thought, he’s marching toward death. He recognizes what’s about to happen. But did the disciples? Do we? We still miss him when he shows up in service instead of spectacle, in mercy instead of might, in courage without cruelty. This begs the question: can we recognize Jesus when he does not look like the kind of power we’ve been taught to trust? Because Palm Sunday is not just a parade to admire. It is the moment when Jesus shows us what kind of king he is—and asks whether we are ready to follow a Lord who rides toward the cross instead of around it.

The Verbs of Palm Sunday

Mark asks us to follow Jesus in order that we may recognize him. On Palm Sunday, no one gets to stay in the bleachers. The text gives us a feast of verbs that pull us into the story: go, untie, bring, throw, spread, shout, follow. Mark’s Gospel does not hand us a static portrait to admire from a distance. It gives us stage directions. It invites us to move.

I began this sermon with a confession: sometimes, I fail to recognize the things I should. Grace, beauty, and rest were the three things I named. And Palm Sunday reminds me that I am more likely to recognize Jesus when I step into those verbs myself. I am more likely to recognize grace when I extend it. I am more likely to recognize beauty when I help make it. I am more likely to recognize the holiness of rest when I refuse a life ordered only by urgency, and help make Sabbath possible for somebody else.

So what does it mean for us, here and now, to join the procession of Palm Sunday?

It means we make the verbs of this story our own.

Go

It means we go where Jesus sends us, even when the path is inconvenient, even when discipleship asks something of us.

Untie

It means we untie what has been bound. We help each other free ourselves from the habits and patterns that continue to cause chaos in our communities—fear, isolation, prejudice, indifference, the lie that someone else’s pain isn't our concern. We untie what has been chained down by despair, and we do this by showing up, speaking out, and becoming vocal advocates for justice in this city and beyond.

Bring

It means we bring what we have. The disciples brought a colt. We bring our real lives. We bring our time, attention, courage, tables, prayers, bodies, and witness. We bring casseroles to grieving families. We bring meals to Greensboro Urban Ministry. We bring comfort to the bedside, tenderness to the hurting, and steadfast love to those who feel forgotten.

Spread

It means we spread mercy. In the story, they spread cloaks on the road. Now, we spread mercy along the paths people walk every day. We spread it through the meals we share, in the care we give, in the ways we protect each other during illness and hardship, and in the quiet acts of compassion that make the road gentler for someone else to travel.

Shout Hosanna

It means we shout Hosanna. Not just with our lips, but with our lives. Our hosannas become a public witness. Our cries of “save us” turn into a refusal to accept a world ruled by cruelty, domination, and us-versus-them thinking. Our hosannas transform into advocacy for a shared life where justice is not partisan, mercy is not weakness, and the common good is still worth fighting for.

Follow

It means we follow Jesus in ways that challenge the usual political ideas of power. Because Jesus does not come with the tools of domination. He enters with humility. He arrives in vulnerability. He brings peace. And if we follow him, we may sometimes seem strange to a world that has linked strength with aggression and leadership with control.

Retrieve

And perhaps it also means we retrieve something. The disciples retrieved a colt, but we are called to retrieve the truest parts of ourselves—the parts buried beneath resentment, numbed by rage, or hidden under the weight of toxic individualism. Palm Sunday invites us to rediscover the selves God made us to be: merciful, courageous, communal, and alive to grace.

From Recognition to Action

Sometimes, I don’t recognize the things I should. But when I hear scripture call me into these verbs of recognition—go, untie, bring, spread, shout, follow—I find myself changed. Not always in big, dramatic ways. More often, it happens in subtle ways that are no less holy.

Grace finds my attention because I am learning to look for it in concrete places. Beauty catches me off guard, and suddenly I have a hosanna to offer. Rest becomes less a luxury and more a gift—one that makes me a better disciple, a better father, a better pastor, a better neighbor.

So, as we begin Holy Week, maybe the question before us is: Where will you recognize Jesus? What will be your hosanna? What will be the moment, the nudge, the holy interruption that moves you from recognition to action? Because Palm Sunday is not just about waving branches for a Savior long ago. It is about recognizing the One who is still in our midst, still coming toward us in humility, still calling us to follow.

And when we do—when we go, untie, bring, spread, shout, and follow—we just may discover that the Jesus we almost missed is the very one who has been leading us all along.

In the name of God the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, may all of us, God’s children, say: Amen.

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Stephen Fearing

Stephen was born in 1988 in Cookeville, TN, where his parents met whilst attending Tennessee Tech. Shortly after, they moved to Dalton, Georgia where they put down roots and joined First Presbyterian Church, the faith family that taught Stephen that he was first and foremost a beloved child of God. It was this community that taught Stephen that it was OK to have questions and doubts and that nothing he could do could every possibly separate him from the love of God. In 1995, his sister, Sarah Kate, joined the family and Stephen began his journey as a life-long musician. Since then, he has found a love of music and has found this gift particularly fitting for his call to ministry. Among the instruments that he enjoys are piano, trumpet, guitar, and handbells. Stephen has always had a love of singing and congregation song. An avid member of the marching band, Stephen was the drum major of his high school's marching band. In 2006, Stephen began his tenure at Presbyterian College in Clinton, SC where he majored in Religion and minored in History. While attending PC, Stephen continued to explore his love of music by participating in the Wind Ensemble, Jazz Band, Jazz Combo, Jazz Trio, as well as playing in the PC Handbell ensemble and playing mandolin and banjo PC's very own bluegrass/rock group, Hosegrass, of which Stephen was a founding member (Hosegrass even released their own CD!). In 2010, Stephen moved from Clinton to Atlanta to attend Columbia Theological Seminary to pursue God's call on his life to be a pastor in the PC(USA). During this time, Stephen worked at Trinity Presbyterian Church, Silver Creek Presbyterian Church, Central Presbyterian Church, and Westminster Presbyterian Church. For three years, Stephen served as the Choir Director of Columbia Theological Seminary's choir and also served as the Interim Music Director at Westminster Presbyterian Church. In 2014, Stephen graduated from Columbia with a Masters of Divinity and a Masters of Arts in Practical Theology with an emphasis in liturgy, music, and worship. In July of 2014, Stephen was installed an ordained as Teaching Elder at Shelter Island Presbyterian Church in Shelter Island, NY. Later that year, Stephen married the love of his life, Tricia, and they share their home on Shelter Island with their Golden Doodle, Elsie, and their calico cat, Audrey. In addition to his work with the people who are Shelter Island Presbyterian Church, Stephen currently serves as a commission from Long Island Presbytery to the Synod of the Northeast and, beginning in January of 2016, will moderate the Synod's missions team.