by Bruce Main

I was visiting the country of Malawi, one of the poorest in Africa. After flying for 24 hours, with only a brief stop in Addis Ababa, I needed a hot shower, a bowl of soup, and anything that looked like a bed. But my driver, a local church leader, had other plans.

“Do you mind stopping at a funeral?” he asked. “I need to conduct the service. Perhaps you can preach?”

Thirty minutes later we pulled off the one-lane highway and started down a winding dirt trail toward the village of Kanunga. Well-worn ruts guided our tires. To my right and left, mud huts crowned with straw-thatched roofs tightly lined the road.

As we rounded a corner into a clearing, a massive sea of people enveloped the car. We had joined a slow procession toward the graveside. Four gravediggers led the parade, carrying a simple wooden casket.

Later I learned that the deceased had died of AIDS, a common occurrence in this impoverished sub-Saharan village. Sometimes weekly, the community witnessed this kind of parade of death.

But I’ll never forget the children. As the adults repeated this somber expression of grief and hopelessness, hundreds of rag-covered youngsters came out to watch. I wondered: Did these children ever experience any other kinds of parades? Parades of hope, of joy, of promise? In a community devastated by poverty, lack of education, and disease, were these the only processions they knew?

Two Events

One of the most dramatic and overlooked aspects of the Easter story is the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem. You see, about the same time Jesus entered the city from the east, there would have been another procession coming from the west—from the port city of Caesarea.

During Passover, the city of Jerusalem swelled from 40,000 to 200,000. For an insecure, Rome-appointed political leader with a charge to keep his Jewish subjects in check, this spelled danger. So Pontius Pilate would send a Roman garrison of troops to fortify the soldiers permanently stationed in the city.

This parade from the west would have been visibly stunning—heraldry, swords, spears, shiny helmets, protruding chests, emotionless faces. Pilate, sitting proudly on his battle-trained stallion.

The parade from the east was markedly different.

Instead of spears, palm branches.

Instead of well-groomed soldiers, poorly dressed peasants.

Instead of order and precision, chaos.

Instead of military cadence, shouts of Hosanna.

And Jesus, the man leading the procession, from the peasant village of Nazareth, rides a donkey.

But the vivid contrast between the two parades was more than simply pageantry. It was also a contrast in worldview, in vision, in mission.

The parade from the west was guided by imperial power and theology. Rome was more than just a city—it was a belief system. Might makes right! The first shall be first! Intimidate. Oppress. Eliminate your opposition. Use the poor for your advantage.

The Jesus parade was guided by another vision—find greatness in humility, love your enemies, turn the other cheek, bring wholeness to all people.

For an onlooker, the parade from the west seems like the sure winner. Its weaponry appeals to our fear-based nature. Its dramatic plumes and polished brass appeal to our ego. Its perceived strength gives the illusion that we’ve placed our eggs in the most durable of baskets. By contrast, the parade from the east looks like a sure disaster.

Choose Your Parade

The two parades will take us to different places, determine our values and commitments, and have radically different outcomes. One parade leads to self-preservation, exclusion, and privilege. The other leads to laying down one’s life—and yet it’s this parade that ultimately leads to resurrection and the birth of God’s kingdom in the world. It’s impossible to follow both parades. We must choose.

In this season, you’ll be sharing the stories at the heart of Scripture—the cross, the empty tomb. But of course the Christian faith is not a spectator sport; it calls for involvement. You’re inviting people to walk in the way of Jesus, to join his procession.

That’s the parade my friend Peter Gamula chose to follow.

Eight years ago, shortly after my visit to Kanunga, Peter decided to start a ministry in that village. As an educated Malawian, he could have taken a good job in the city, made lots of money, and lived a safe life. Instead he started a summer camp and employment program for teens. Two years later he started a high school, with a borrowed building and a few volunteer teachers. Today, Mercy High School boasts 400 students and just graduated its first class of seniors, with many headed for college.

Here is what I’ll never forget. As those graduates proudly processed in their caps and gowns, receiving their diplomas, I saw the children in the village witness a new kind of parade. Not death but life. Their young lives were forever changed because one man, Peter Gamula, decided to follow the procession of Jesus.

Bruce Main is founding president of UrbanPromise Ministries in Camden, NJ, which seeks to revitalize urban communities through Christian-based youth development programs. In 2008 he founded UrbanPromise International, which currently runs similar programs in eight other locations around the world. With degrees from Azusa Pacific University, Fuller Seminary and Princeton Seminary, Bruce is the author of Holy Hunches (Baker), Jesus Crossed the Road (Tyndale House) and The Promise Effect.