Title: “Underwhelming On Purpose”
Subtitle: The King who chose to ride a donkey to display his power.
Passage 📖: Matthew 21:1–11 (ESV)
Date: July 19th, 2025
📺 Want to watch the full teaching? Click here to view the July 19th, 2025 Lesson.
👋 Introduction to Today’s Lesson
Hey friends,
We’ve officially entered the final chapters of Matthew — and this week, everything begins to shift.
Imagine the President rolling up to a Fourth of July parade — not in a limo, but on a scooter.
No motorcade. No flags. No security detail.
Just a quiet arrival in the middle of a moment that’s supposed to scream power.
That’s the energy of what Jesus does here.
He enters Jerusalem — during Passover, the most politically charged and spiritually significant week of the year — not on a warhorse, but on a donkey.
No army behind Him. Just a crowd of the poor and overlooked.
No crown of gold. Just palm branches and hope.
To the watching world, it might’ve looked underwhelming.
But to those who understood, it was revolutionary.
Because this isn’t just a story of arrival.
It’s a confrontation of assumptions.
This week we’re asking:
What kind of King do we actually want?
What happens when Jesus doesn’t meet our demands — but still meets our deepest need?
And are we willing to follow the One who doesn’t ride high and mighty… but comes low and gentle?
Let’s dive in.
⏪ Recap of Last Week’s Lesson (Matthew 20:29–34)
Last week, we stood on the roadside in Jericho — with two blind men crying out for mercy. The crowd tried to silence them. But Jesus stopped.
We explored how desperation is not a disqualification in the Kingdom — it’s often the very bridge that draws Jesus near.
We were challenged by how quickly the crowd, though close to Jesus, misrepresented His heart — rebuking the very ones He came for.
And perhaps most beautifully, we witnessed what true mercy does:
It doesn’t just restore sight — it redirects lives.
The healed men didn’t run to reclaim what they had missed.
They followed Jesus — because they had seen the only thing that truly mattered.
If you missed it or want to revisit the reflection, you can read last week’s newsletter here: Lesson from July 12th, 2025.
📖 Matthew 21:1–11 (ESV)
1 Now when they drew near to Jerusalem and came to Bethphage, to the Mount of Olives, then Jesus sent two disciples,
2 saying to them, “Go into the village in front of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her. Untie them and bring them to me.
3 If anyone says anything to you, you shall say, ‘The Lord needs them,’ and he will send them at once.”
4 This took place to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet, saying,
5 “Say to the daughter of Zion, ‘Behold, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a beast of burden.’”
6 The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them.
7 They brought the donkey and the colt and put on them their cloaks, and he sat on them.
8 Most of the crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road.
9 And the crowds that went before him and that followed him were shouting, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!”
10 And when he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred up, saying, “Who is this?”
11 And the crowds said, “This is the prophet Jesus, from Nazareth of Galilee.”
As Jesus approaches Jerusalem, the tension is building. The crowds are swelling. And the expectations are soaring.
For first-century Jews, Jerusalem wasn’t just a city — it was the heart of their faith, the center of their hopes, and the symbol of God’s future deliverance. And in this climactic moment, Jesus chooses to enter it like a king.
But not like any king they had ever seen.
In the ancient world, when a king or victorious general entered a capital city — especially after a military triumph — it was a spectacle of power.
He would ride in on a warhorse or chariot, surrounded by soldiers, banners, trumpets, and the spoils of war. Crowds would cheer, either in allegiance or awe. Sometimes even captured enemies would be paraded as trophies to flaunt domination.
It was political theater. A loud, visual declaration:
“I’m in charge now.”
But Jesus doesn’t enter Jerusalem like Caesar.
He doesn’t come armored, elevated, or flanked by power.
He comes on a borrowed donkey.
This detail matters — deeply.
A donkey was a beast of burden, not battle. It was the transportation of peasants and servants, not soldiers or kings. It signified humility, not conquest. And yet, by choosing it, Jesus fulfills the prophecy of Zechariah 9:9:
“Behold, your king is coming to you;
humble, and mounted on a donkey…”
In doing so, Jesus redefines royal power — not as domination, but as peace.
Behind a typical king would be rows of elite soldiers, diplomats, and wealthy loyalists.
But behind Jesus?
A crowd of Galileans — fishermen, women, former outcasts, and the poor.
The ones most excluded from earthly thrones were the first to walk with the King of Heaven.
No banners. No chariots. No spoils of war.
Just palm branches, cloaks on the ground, and cries of “Hosanna!” — a word that means “Save us now!”
This wasn’t just any week in Jerusalem.
Jesus entered the city at the start of Passover — the most sacred and politically charged time in the Jewish calendar.
Passover was a national remembrance of liberation from Egypt — when God rescued His people from slavery through signs, wonders, and the leadership of Moses.
So when Jesus rides in, surrounded by hopeful cries of “Hosanna,” the connection is unmistakable:
Could this be the new Moses? Could this be the one to free us from Rome?
Jerusalem would have been overflowing with pilgrims — Jewish families from all over Israel and beyond, gathering for sacrifice and celebration. Historians estimate that the population tripled during Passover, with tens of thousands flooding the streets and the Temple.
The city pulsed with religious longing and national expectation.
And Rome knew it.
More soldiers were posted. Tensions were high. Any sign of rebellion could spark immediate retaliation.
So when Jesus enters — riding like a king, fulfilling prophecy, and stirring up the Messianic hopes of the crowd — it isn’t just meaningful.
It’s dangerous.
It’s subversive.
It’s revolutionary.
This wasn’t just a spontaneous parade.
It was a counter-political act.
Many expected the Messiah to be another Moses — someone who would confront the empire and lead a national exodus.
But Jesus doesn’t head to the palace.
He doesn’t rally a rebellion.
He doesn’t raise a sword.
He heads to the Temple.
Because the liberation He came to bring wasn’t from Rome.
It was from sin.
The crowd wanted a revolution of power.
Jesus brought a revolution of love.
And in that single act — riding in on a donkey, surrounded by the forgotten — He sends a clear message:
This Kingdom is nothing like the ones you’ve known.
Not built by violence.
Not maintained by fear.
But marked by humility, peace,
and a King who will lay down His life.
✨ Key Takeaways
Jesus enters not with might, but with meekness.
Not on a warhorse, but on a donkey.
Not to crush enemies, but to carry a cross.
And if that’s what His kingship looks like —
Then we have to rethink what greatness really is.
This means:
Leadership isn’t about being served. It’s about showing up to serve.
Power isn’t proven by who listens to you — but by who feels safe around you.
So ask yourself:
In your workplace, your friendships, your home —
Are you showing up like a King?
Or like someone ready to serve?
Because in this Kingdom, the way up… is down.
And the true mark of royalty?
Is humility.
As Jesus rides into Jerusalem, the crowd erupts with celebration.
They lay down their cloaks.
They wave palm branches.
They shout, “Hosanna in the highest!”
But their cries for salvation came with expectations:
A king who would confront Rome.
A liberator who would turn the empire upside down.
And yet Jesus rides in not to overthrow the system —
But to confront something deeper.
Not the empire outside them — but the brokenness within them.
This moment invites us to reflect:
What kind of Savior are we hoping for?
Are there ways we’ve unknowingly equated God’s faithfulness with comfort, ease, or control?
Could we be celebrating the presence of Jesus — and still missing the purpose of His arrival?
The crowd wasn’t wrong to cry out “Save us.”
But the salvation Jesus brings doesn’t always start with changing our circumstances.
Sometimes, it starts by reshaping our expectations.
He may not always come the way we imagined.
But He always comes with mercy.
The real question is:
When Jesus moves differently than we expected — can we still recognize Him?
Jesus could’ve ridden in with priests, politicians, or powerful influencers.
Instead, He came with fishermen, former outcasts, and the forgotten.
And that wasn’t just symbolic. It was strategic.
Because His Kingdom starts with those the world tends to ignore.
That means:
You’re never too unseen to be part of what God is doing.
And you’re never too broken to walk beside the King.
It also means:
If we’re serious about following Jesus, we need to pay attention to who we’re walking with.
Are we always surrounded by the comfortable and familiar?
Or are we making room for those the world leaves out?
Because the Kingdom doesn’t just welcome the overlooked.
It belongs them.
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.”
No king had ever entered a city like this.
No war horse.
No armor.
No trumpet blasts or parades of power.
Just a borrowed donkey.
A crowd of peasants.
And cries for salvation from the poor and overlooked.
This is not how kings arrive.
Kings make statements with strength.
Jesus made one with surrender.
Kings flaunt victory.
Jesus rode toward sacrifice.
And in doing so, He rewrote the definition of royalty — not as domination, but as humility.
Because the Kingdom He came to establish isn’t ruled by fear, status, or spectacle.
It’s carried by mercy.
It’s centered on the forgotten.
And it’s built — not with force — but with love.
So now the question turns toward us.
If the King of Kings made Himself lowly enough to be approached by the poor,
gentle enough to walk beside the forgotten,
and humble enough to ride beneath the noise of power —
then what posture are we carrying?
Are we moving through life in a way that invites the overlooked in?
Are we approachable to the hurting — or just impressive to the powerful?
Do our lives reflect a King on a donkey…
or one still chasing a throne?
Because the true mark of following Jesus
is not how high we rise —
but how much we care for those the world overlooks.
May we move like He did.
Humble.
Open.
And always within reach of those who need mercy most.
Blessings this Week,
MIchael
This week, sit with the question:
What kind of King do I really want Jesus to be?
Am I following Him for comfort… or transformation?
Am I open to a Savior who comes quietly, humbly — and often in ways that challenge my preferences?
Then take it one step further:
Ask yourself — how am I showing up in the world?
Am I moving through life in a way that makes room for the overlooked?
Am I approachable to the hurting — or just impressive to the powerful?
Am I riding high… or walking low like my King?
Choose one place this week — a conversation, a room, a relationship —
and enter it not to be seen, but to see.
Not to impress, but to serve.
Let Jesus’ posture be your pattern.
Because in this Kingdom, greatness starts low.