What do you think about everyday?

We're nearly at the end now. Today is Palm Sunday, the Sunday of the Passion. It's an awkward day, liturgically; I've sometimes thought Palm Sunday deserved its own day. But here it is together: you start with praise and move to Jesus’ death. I guess the church recognizes that it would be inappropriate to jump the Sunday Scripture readings directly from Palm Sunday’s brittle praise straight to Easter’s Resurrection celebration; parishioners who miss the Good Friday service and the readings of the crucifixion would miss just about the whole point.

But keeping Palm and Passion together is useful too. We still hold our palm branches and the echo of our Hosanna still lingers in the air when we come to our part in the Gospel reading, and together we cry “Crucify.”

I heard once that the ashes on Ash Wednesday—remember you are dust—are made from the branches from last year's Palm Sunday. If that is so, it is just. We are marked with our limitations, reminded of our need for grace even to make our praises more meaningful than lip service. We need grace to follow Jesus, for the road is harder than we expect, and suffering is part of it.

Praise offered from our own strength is as fragile today as was the praise of those in Jerusalem before Jesus’ arrest. I’ve seen enough devastating failures from seemingly devoted Christians over the course of my own life, too, to recognize that praise is only part of being a disciple. Pondering my own heart, I certainly am in no position to feel smug about either type of failure.

But God's grace is greater, and the resurrection of Jesus—and the resurrection promised for us too—is so far beyond our expectation of anything God would do. Yet the cost . . . We do well not to jump too fast to next week's joy. We do well to slow down this week, to pay attention, to watch and pray, to own up to the brittleness of our good deeds and the depth of our shortcomings, to our limitations and our need for God to intervene for us.

In the past two days, Mark and Tyler both mentioned the concept of attention—in part, paying attention to God as a way of becoming more fully human. Earlier this week, a blog I follow from the creators of a web software package I use touched on the same theme in a post somewhat outside the normal line of “business.” The author is not at this point, so far as I know, a follower of Jesus, but his post puts into words a concept I've been pondering this Lenten season, and his story will be helpful for us to ponder.

Telling a story about his seven-year-old son, who collects coins (read it all; it's short and memorable), he concludes:

You become what you think about all day long.

If we want to really achieve something, we can learn a lot from a seven year old who has never read books on setting goals, or attended success workshops, or watched motivational videos. He simply intuitively understands that the secret to success is to focus on your goal. Every moment.

What is your goal as a follower of Jesus? Are you getting to the point where you would back up your praise of him with a courageous stand for him? Are you coming to think and act like him? Is his life transforming yours?

What do you think about all day? Each season? The liturgy is a gift that can help us focus. This week in particular the church asks us to focus on the cost Jesus paid for the life you can now have. Let’s pay attention.