"The Lord Needs to Use Your . . ."

It's something every one of us has seen on a television show or in a movie: a crime has been committed in a major city. A chase ensues. The bad guy is running away from the good guy on foot. Trapped, the villain jumps into a car sitting at a stoplight, throws the driver out, and speeds away with the cops in hot pursuit. Sometimes there's a variation on this. The good guy is chasing the bad guy on foot and the antagonist hops into an awaiting getaway car. Seeing this, the cop jumps into a car stopped at a red light, tells the startled driver, "Ma'am the New York City Police Department needs to use your car," politely throws her out, and then chases the scoundrel all over the Upper East Side.

Generally speaking, the actors who portray the "I was just sitting in my car at a stoplight when this guy points a gun at me, forces me out of my own car, and drives away like a maniac" characters are USUALLY unknown thespians there to play a bit part. Unless that character becomes a kidnap victim or plays a sizable part in the story, you don't even pay attention to these actors. They are wallpaper. They are elevator music. You think of them only for the amount of time it takes to see the look of shock and dismay on their faces, for the 1/10 of a second in which you will feel sorry for them. The truly big-hearted among us who think -- for perhaps all of 1/20 of a second -- "Oh my, I hope this lady's car isn't wrecked in the chase," may give all of 1/30 of a second's thought that her Oldsmobile is going to come back to her house like a penny flattened on the railroad tracks.

Those who portray the victims of carjackings are rarely the types who command million dollar fees, a percentage of the box office receipts and their own trailer at the set. Viewers rarely stay around the movie long enough to see her performance remembered in the closing credits. We don't go to movies or sit glued to a television show to pay attention to people and objects that are seen for only a few seconds. We watch to see the big stars and to enter into a story with a major plot and enough minor plots to keep us occupied for an hour or so. Then it's off to bed or to the car to drive back home where we rarely, if ever, think about the people who play the bit parts.

Today we celebrate, remember and participate in the opening scene of the greatest drama ever enacted: Palm Sunday. Today is the first day of Holy Week and center stage holds some of the major characters in history. Prominent in the story are the Big Four Apostles: Peter, Andrew, James and John. Jesus' mother Mary and Mary Magdalene have large roles. The true villain -- the High Priest Caiaphas -- stays around long enough to invoke boos and hisses. And, then there's this complex character Pontius Pilate: we don't know whether we want to feel sorry for him, shed tears for him, or throw rotten tomatoes at the screen. And if there is anything at all in the story resembling some innocent bystander co-opted into a transportation scene, there's that wonderful African gentleman Simon of Cyrene, who is co-opted into carrying the Cross when it's Bearer can no longer do so.

Following these major players, we see some secondary players who, though not stars per se, still play pretty big roles. Some of them, such as the servant whose ear is sliced off in the Garden of Gethsemane, have a name: Malchus. Some of them, such as the Roman Centurion at the foot of the cross ­ the gentleman who utters that famous line "Truly this was the Son of God" ­ will forever remain nameless.

And then, at the center of all this is the central figure in all of history: Jesus Christ Himself. The whole story revolves around Him. Come to think of it, EVERY story of every life ­ past, present and future ­ revolves around Him. And for every story that involves the major characters, there are hundreds -- perhaps thousands -- of characters essential to the outcome of history whose names we don't know, rarely see, and whose only claim to history is that they happened to be strategically standing or seated behind the wheel of a car somewhere. Yet we know that history as we know it would never have taken place had not these people been providentially pliable when history went down. And it's not, "Pardon Ma'am, but the New York City Police Department needs your car to catch a bad guy," it's the multitude of people who have been told, "Pardon me, Ma'am, but the Lord needs your . . ."

It's not always the big stars whom the Lord uses. In today's text, an important parade is about to take place. It's Palm Sunday. It's the day of Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem. It's a day of frenzy and wild celebration. The Main Man Jesus Christ, of course, will be front and center. Every eye will be glued onto Him. But before this parade can take place, details need to be taken care of and minor aspects of the day's activities require attention.

Have you ever noticed how major minor things become if events don't take place as planned? Think of a button: a tiny, insignificant button. You put on a shirt or a blouse, button it up, and don't give a second thought to a button UNLESS the button decides it wants a vacation. You can pay a few thousand bucks for an Armani suit, but that huge investment will be worth nothing if a button costing all of 25 cents decides to go AWOL. A five thousand dollar suit is worth about 10 cents if your pants won't stay on your hips.

The Lord Jesus Christ is about to be the Grand Marshall of the greatest parade in history, and I suppose it would be okay if He wanted to simply walk in the parade. But that's not how it's done. That's not how conquering heroes come into the city in triumph. In ancient times, the victorious king would not enter the city riding a big white horse: he would be sitting on a lowly donkey and on a lowly colt. And if that city had been under the rule of a tyrant, the conquering king would be seen as a liberator, someone who had conquered evil and was entering the city to set the captives free. The king was seen as someone who had come to bring peace and justice. Jesus was coming into Jerusalem to do all these things. And in order to get His point across, He has to enter the city in a fashion that people will understand and grasp.

But there's one problem: Jesus doesn't own a donkey or a colt. The Psalmist tells us that the cattle on a thousand hills belong to the Lord, but the Lord Jesus has always depended on His legs to get from Point A to Point B. What's the solution? The first century Jerusalem Chamber of Commerce doesn't have a listing for the Hertz Rent a Mule. There's not an Enterprise Colt Rental to be found. No, Jesus will have to use someone's donkey. He'll have to borrow someone's colt. And as He's getting near the head of the parade route, He sends His disciples on ahead of Him with the instructions, "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, 'The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.'"

I'd like to inject something personal here. It was on December 1, 1970 that I first realized how much God loved me. That's the day I had my life-altering encounter with Jesus Christ. For the past 35 years, I've been reading and studying the scriptures in dozens of translations. I've torn it apart in the Greek and Hebrews texts. I've studied it Latin and German. Last year, I read it out loud in a congregation in Portuguese. But it wasn't until I was studying the text for this week's sermon that I realized something Jesus had said, something that had never struck me through all these translations and study. It's that the Lord says, in effect, "when I'm done with the donkey, I'll send it back right away." Always before, my mind read to that part, "The Lord needs your donkey" and immediately went racing ahead to the parade. For the first time, I saw how the Lord Jesus attended to details that would have escaped me. I always heard, "I'm borrowing your donkey." I had never heard that last part before: "But as soon as I'm done with it, you'll get it right back." I had never thought about that donkey getting back to its owner at the parade's end.

Think how history would have changed had this unknown saint, when asked if God could borrow his colt and donkey, said, "No way, Jose'." Imagine the outcome had the owner allowed Jesus the use of His necessary float transportation, but not before insisting the disciples sign a contract and fork over a security deposit. No, this man -- whose name we will never know -- said, "The Lord is welcome to anything that's mine," and helped shape history as we know it. But part of what helped this unknown man come to this decision was the Lord's assurance: "The Lord needs it and will send it back immediately."

Four days later, history is about to be made again. Once more, there's a button needs attention; a seemingly minor detail needs tending. It's Thursday, the day before Good Friday. Jesus will be sharing the last meal with His friends before undergoing the greatest suffering anyone in the history of world would ever experience.

It's Passover; the Lord needs to partake of the Passover Supper. It's His last dinner with His closest friends; He needs a place with a table; He needs a place with some privacy. And if the Lord Jesus doesn't own His own means of transportation, it goes without saying that He doesn't own property, at least within the city of Jerusalem. Just as before, He sends His advance team ahead. "Go into the city, and a man carrying a jar of water will meet you; follow him, and wherever he enters, say to the owner of the house, 'The Teacher asks, "Where is my guest room where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?'" He will show you a large room upstairs, furnished and ready. Make preparations for us there."

We don't know the name of the donkey and colt's owner, nor are we privy to the name of the Upper Room's title-holder. Just as before, the Upper Room's owner doesn't ask for any guarantees. He doesn't require first and last night's rent. He doesn't demand a security deposit. He simply takes the disciples to the Banquet Hall and gives Jesus free reign to do in his house whatever the Lord Jesus needs to do

And so that evening, the most remarkable meal in all of history is eaten. Bread is broken; wine is shared. That evening, the most remarkable soul scrubbing in all of history takes place when the Lord Jesus takes on the role of the humblest of the humble and washes the feet of His friends. Afterwards history, as always, has to move forward.

Just as it was when Jesus needed a donkey and a place to share a last meal with His friends, He once more needs something else: a place to pray. And if Jesus didn't own a colt and a house, then it goes without saying that He doesn't own a luxurious outdoor garden. Unlike before, we don't get to witness the actual procurement as the disciples are sent ahead to make preparations. We only see Jesus and His three closest friends -- Peter, James and John-- enter the Garden.

Friend, the Lord needs your garden. He needs a place to pray. Just as the unknown owners of the donkey and Upper Room freely lend to Jesus, so the unknown owner of the Garden of Gethsemane freely provides Jesus a place to pray.

That evening, we see the Lord Jesus making His last request. We know that He makes a request to God the Father: "Abba, Father, for You all things are possible; remove this cup from Me; yet, not what I want, but what You want." He is asking the Father for strength. He is asking the Father for courage. He is asking the Father to remind Him of why all this suffering is worth it. Sure, He asks the Father for help, but He has but one last thing to ask of people. So He goes to Peter, James and John and finds them snoring underneath a tree. "Stay awake. Watch with Me. Pray with Me. Be with Me in My greatest hour of need." How poignant: up to this point, these unknown bit players yielded to Jesus the things that were needed -- a donkey, a colt, an Upper Room, a garden. Now these major players -- these stars, these men with churches and cities and universities named after them -- can't even oblige Jesus the courtesy of staying awake.

It's funny when you think about all the people God has used in seemingly insignificant ways. They didn't have much, but what little they had, they allowed Jesus full use. At the feeding of the Five Thousand, we don't know the name of the lad who came to hear Jesus preach that day. The only information afforded us is that the boy was the only one with enough sense to bring a lunch, and that he freely shared his five loaves and two fishes with Jesus. And as a result of allowing the Lord to use what little he had, that young man had a hand in an event that altered the course of history.

There are countless others, hundreds -- perhaps thousands -- of people who were there for Jesus, who gave what little they had to Jesus. And Jesus always returned what He had used; sometimes, He even returned more.

I thought of that as I thought of each of you this week. I reflected on the seemingly minor things God has asked for all of you, and how you have said, "Sure Lord, here's what I have. Go ahead and use it."

I thought of those of you who have been asked, "The Lord needs your voice," and how you show up here week after week and use those voices to lead us in music of worship. I thought of those of you who have been asked, "The Lord needs your skills," and how you, week after week, do things behind the scene that are rarely noticed, how you pay the bills and sweep that carpet and order the supplies and plow the parking lot and mow the lawn.

I thought of those of you who have been asked, "The Lord needs your love," and how you are there, week after week, feeding the hungry, clothing the shivering and visiting the forgotten. There are so many other ways today, just as it was on that first Palm Sunday, the Lord needs to use whatever you have. Back then, the Lord needed a colt, a donkey, some means to take Him into the city. Today, the Lord needs someone who will take His name. Not just to the big cities and the exotic faraway places: He needs you to take Him to your homes, neighborhoods and families. He needs you to transport His message of love and victory and hope.

Back then, the Lord needed a garden, a place where He could pray. Today, He needs people to pray, to commune with Him as He did with His Father.

Back then, the Lord needed an Upper Room, a place to celebrate His last supper. Today, the Lord needs a room as well, only it's not so much a structure as it is an open and willing heart.

You probably don't realize it, do you, the ways that God uses you? I imagine that in 20, 50, or a hundred years down the road, somebody might look back at this time. I can almost guarantee that none of us here will show up on the closing credits when time as we know it comes to an end. And if that's the case, that's okay, because in the end, the only credit that counts is God's faith in you.