Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion! Shout, Daughter Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey. I will take away the chariots from Ephraim and the warhorses from Jerusalem, and the battle bow will be broken. He will proclaim peace to the nations. His rule will extend from sea to sea and from the River to the ends of the earth. (Zechariah 9:9-10)

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From the beginning to the end of his earthly life, Jesus held back—almost completely dialed down—the splendor he owns as the Son of God. Yes, the Bible grants glimpses of grandeur: With shepherds we view “the glory of the Lord” over Bethlehem. With three ex-fishermen we gasp at Jesus’ lightning brilliance at his transfiguration. But mostly, our faith’s eye roams from a baby in a feed trough to a bright boy in earnest conversation to a carpenter rabbi without a home to a supposed criminal nailed to a cross.

And today, back a bit, we see a man on a donkey. The prophet Zechariah, writing five centuries before the event, settles our gaze there, as Jesus enters Jerusalem on his way to that cross. No heavenly glory here either. Even the earthly glory of a king’s parade is dimmed to apt irony: no rich robes, no crown, no chariots, no gleaming swords or glinting spears, no muscled, marching soldiers. Just one “lowly” man, “the prophet from Nazareth in Galilee,” as Matthew quoted the crowds’ buzz. (Can anything good come from there?) And no horse, no magnificent stallion bred for war and worthy of a royal saddle. Just a donkey draped in the cloaks of ordinary men.

How fitting this humble entrance is. How typical of the salvation story. After our first parents threw away Paradise and thus dragged all their children after them in sin and death, God in love vowed to restore what they had trashed. He pledged that Adam and Eve’s descendant would crush the serpent Satan’s head. God then kept his promise in ways exact, unexpected, and, yes, humble: a helpless baby who would rescue, a landless king who would reign forever, a sinless man judged guilty to pay for the sins of all, a deathless God who died to redeem, and an empty tomb full of the Good News that your sins are forgiven, because Jesus lived and died for you too. Jesus did not come to impose a royal to-do list. The gospel is a has-done list, the story of what King Jesus has done for you.

That story comes to you like that donkey, without glamor. The gospel reaches you in your mother’s voice and your father’s example; in a teacher’s lesson, a pastor’s sermon, or a child’s song; in plain water with powerful Word; in bread and wine with a forgiving promise.

As again this week you walk with Jesus to his cross, rejoice that your king came to you gentle, lowly, righteous, and soon victorious. Jesus came to save you. You have his forgiveness. It’s his greatest glory.

Holy Spirit, through your Word and by your power, help me this Holy Week to see my humble Savior-King ever more clearly. Amen.

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Rev. Daniel Balge serves Martin Luther College as a professor of Greek and Latin, and as academic dean for preseminary studies.