It was the start of a week filled with emotional highs and lows.  On Sunday, I watched with the crowds as he entered the city on a donkey and was received with shouts off Hosanna.  There were those who had come because they’d heard about all the miraculous things he accomplished – even the raising of the dead.

There were those with ailments they wanted healed – those who were curious about him – those who thought he was gaining too much popularity and wouldn’t tolerate it – those who followed him – those who thought he was a king would deliver them from their enemies.  Each one had their own agenda.  Each was thinking of their own needs, but he was on a mission to save them all.

When he came to the temple on Monday, he was disgusted at the sight of the many vendors in the area.  Each of them there with hopes of making a profit – including the priests who made a percentage of the spoils.  The entire city was a place of loud activity, buying and selling of animal sacrifices and those who exchanged foreign coins.  It no longer remained the quiet place of prayer and contemplation.  It was now a den of thieves, as my son referred to it.

It was a side of him I hadn’t witnessed before.  He became enraged.  His words again showed authority. His anger was righteous.  He was not about to have his Father’s house abused in such a way.  As his eyes revealed his inner anger, I realized that this was part of his mission.  He displayed God’s own anger with a corrupt world and at the same time he showed compassion for those who would soon accuse and kill him.

There was no turning back.