Meditations on the Crucifixion and Resurrection of Christ
by Andrew Peterson
II. THE SHEPHERD KING
You steer the donkey through the gates of Jerusalem. Centuries before, in this same city, King David wrote his songs and sang your praises. You think of the timbre of his voice, the earnest heart, the long nights on the roof of the palace when the great king remembered how to be a shepherd boy again, alone in the dark pasture but for the sheep in his keeping and the quiet stars.
In your mind you can see him:
King David, barefoot on the airy roof, sitting on the edge of a kingly chair, his harp like a woman in his arms, his mind bending heavenward as he prays with that boyish frankness you delighted in.
Would even David have known what you came to do? If David had been alive on the day of your coming, would he have known the kingdom you were bringing would be of a holy matter, stronger than stone and sharper than steel?
Even David would have been wrong. No man can fathom your ways. No mind could've alone foreseen the Kingdom as you would make it.