1215 Virginia Episcopal School Road, Lynchburg VA

Today marked Church #156 on this journey, and somehow, by the grace of God, it also marked three years of following where He leads me from church to church, sanctuary to sanctuary, story to story. Three years. When I stop and really think about that, it humbles me deeply. What began as a step of obedience has become one of the most precious, stretching, healing, faith-building journeys of my life. And today, on Palm Sunday, it felt especially humbling.

This church visit was not just another stop along the way. It was one of my all-time favorite experiences of this entire journey… what a blessing to join First Presbyterian Church.

There was such a reverence in the service, such a beauty in the order of worship. I could absolutely see this as my home church. That is not something I say casually…

There was just something about it that settled so gently and yet so deeply into my spirit.

Palm Sunday always touches my heart. It is full of praise, but we know the cross is coming. It is full of palm branches and “Hosanna,” but also the shadow of suffering drawing near. That is part of what makes it so powerful. It reminds us how quickly crowds can change, how fragile human praise can be, and how steady and intentional the love of Jesus really is. He rode in anyway. He rode in knowing what was ahead. He rode in toward suffering, toward rejection, toward the cross, because love was leading Him there.

The call to worship came from Luke 19:35-40 and John 12:12-15. Jesus entering on a donkey. Cloaks spread on the road. Palm branches waving. The people crying out, “Hosanna! Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!” And when the Pharisees wanted the praise silenced, Jesus answered with words that still shake me: “I tell you, if the disciples kept silent, the stones would shout praise.”

That will preach all by itself.

Because I do not want a rock to do what my mouth was created to do. I do not want the stones to cry out because I stayed silent. After everything Jesus has brought me through, after every valley, every sorrow, every place He sustained me when I should have fallen apart, I want my life to praise Him. I want my voice to praise Him. I want my story to praise Him. Even if my voice trembles, even if tears come with it, I want to be found praising the One who never abandoned me.

There was something so beautiful today about hearing words that named what is true about us. That we want our lives to praise God, but we are still tempted by greed and selfish pride. That we have heard His call, but too often run when we are frightened or unsure. That is real faith to me. Not acting like we have no struggle. But coming before God honestly and asking Him to forgive us and make us faithful followers of Christ.

I think that kind of honesty is so needed in the church.

Because the truth is, many of us know what it is to love Jesus and still wrestle. To believe and still battle fear. To want to obey and still feel weak. But what a gift that the gospel never tells us to hide from God. It teaches us to come near. To confess. To be forgiven. To be restored.

The reading from Luke 23:44-46 carried us from Palm Sunday praise into the holy ache of what was coming:
“Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”

Even at the end, even in agony, even in the darkness, Jesus placed Himself fully into the hands of the Father. That will always stay with me.

Surrender sounds beautiful until life asks it of you. Trust sounds easy until your heart is breaking. Commending your spirit into the hands of God sounds holy until you are in a season where you do not understand what He is allowing. But that is the invitation of Christ.

And if I think about my own life, that is a word I have had to live again and again. Through loss. Through almost a decade of childhood sexual and physical abuse. Through waiting. Through healing that came slowly and painfully. Through decades that felt stolen and seasons that felt too heavy to carry. There have been so many moments where the only prayer I had left was some version of this: Father, into Your hands. Into Your hands with my grief. Into Your hands with my fear. Into Your hands with the parts of me still learning how to live again. And the beautiful thing is that God has held me there.

The affirmation of faith from Philippians 2:5-11 was another part of the service that felt especially powerful to me. Jesus, though fully God, emptied Himself. Took on the form of a servant. Humbled Himself. Became obedient to death, even death on a cross. And because of that, God highly exalted Him. That passage is so full of wonder. It reminds us that the way of Jesus is humility and love.

That is one of the reasons this service was one of my favorites; it was built around Jesus. And I loved that.

I loved the traditional beauty of Palm Sunday. I loved the hymns. I loved the children laying down palms. I loved the intentional movement of the service. I loved the reminder at the end that we leave empowered and encouraged by the Holy Spirit, carrying courage, strength, and hope for each day. There was something so reverent and grounding about all of it.

The sermon title, “Father, Into Your Hands I Commend My Spirit,” was one that could not help but pierce the heart. Because it calls all of us to ask hard questions. Have we really placed our lives in His hands? Have we trusted Him only in the places that feel manageable, or also in the places that terrify us? Have we surrendered only what is easy, or have we laid down the deepest wounds too?

Those are not small questions.

But Palm Sunday is not a small day.

It is the beginning of the road to the cross, and the cross always confronts us with the truth: Jesus held nothing back. He did not love us halfway. He did not obey halfway. He did not surrender halfway. He went all the way in love.

And what is our response to that kind of love except worship?

As I sat with this service and this milestone, my heart kept going back to how faithful God has been over these three years. Faithful to lead me. Faithful to teach me. Faithful to comfort me. Faithful to let me see so many different expressions of His people, His beauty, His truth, His worship. I have learned so much on this journey. I have cried. I have healed. I have been surprised. I have been stretched. I have been reminded over and over again that the church is still full of beauty, still full of faithful people, still full of places where the Spirit of God is moving.

And today felt like one of the clearest reminders of that.

To the precious people of this church, thank you for such a beautiful Palm Sunday service. Thank you for the reverence, the truth, the warmth, and the obvious care that went into every part of worship. Thank you for creating a space that felt Christ-centered and deeply meaningful. It was a gift to visit, and truly, one of my favorite experiences of this entire church journey.

Three years in, and my heart is still in awe of where God keeps leading me.

And this afternoon, the thought I hold closest is this, if Jesus could trust His spirit into the Father’s hands in the darkest hour, then surely I can keep trusting my life into those same faithful hands, too. The same God who held Christ through the cross is the same God who holds us through everything.

So on this Palm Sunday, I simply want to say this, Hosanna.
Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord.
And blessed are the hands of the Father, strong enough to hold all that we surrender.

I cannot wait to see where the Holy Spirit leads next week.

Love you all so very much,

Annie Stewart Lambert