Walk the Week: Preparing for Easter

Holy Week Reflections from Palm Sunday to Resurrection Morning

I’ve always loved Easter. Not just the Sunday part—but the whole week. It’s an action packed journey. A rollercoaster. A slow walk through both beauty and tragedy. If you’ve been following my Lent Challenge, you know I’ve been all about walking lately—and not just physically. I enjoy reading through the last week like I’m one of the people in the crowd—going through each day with Jesus, experiencing the highs and lows as if I’m right there. From shouting Hosanna! to sitting in the silence of Saturday, I feel like I get to walk beside Him. And when I slow down enough to walk the week—not sprint through it—God meets me in the middle of it all.

Palm Sunday (John 12:12–19):

It starts with celebration. Jesus rides in on a donkey, the crowd is electric with praise, and people are shouting Hosanna! They thought He was coming to rescue them from Rome. But Jesus had a different kind of rescue in mind—one that would go much deeper than political freedom.

How often do I praise God for who I think He is, only to give attitude when He shows up differently than expected?

Monday (John 13:1–17):

Jesus washes feet. He serves—even Judas. This hits me. I like helping my people—but serving someone who’s about to betray me? That’s next-level grace. Jesus doesn’t just call us to serve when it’s convenient. He calls us to love when it’s hard.

Each year during Holy Week, my daughters and I wash each other’s feet. It’s always a little awkward—with giggles from ticklish feet—and always deeply humbling. It gives us a chance to talk about how serving others isn’t flashy or fancy. Sometimes it’s as simple as doing something kind, quiet, and undeserved.

Tuesday (John 14:1–14):

Jesus tells His friends He’s leaving—and then says something wild: "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life." Sometimes I want answers more than I want Him. I want the five-step plan, the clarity, the guarantee. But Jesus is the Way. When life feels uncertain (or when I’m spinning in a hundred directions like a Monday morning), I don’t need to have it all figured out. I just need to stay close to the One who is the way.

Wednesday (Matthew 26:6–16):

A woman pours out everything—her costly perfume—on Jesus. And Judas, in contrast, plots to hand Jesus over. It’s amazing how two people can be close to Jesus and respond so differently. Am I pouring out my life in worship? Or am I holding back, second-guessing, clinging to control?

Maundy Thursday (Luke 22:7–23):

The Last Supper. Jesus breaks bread, passes the cup, and speaks of sacrifice. He knew what was coming, and He still chose intimacy over isolation. I think of how often I pull away when life gets hard. But Jesus leans in. He invites us to the table—even when we’re scared, scattered, or not fully faithful.

Good Friday (Matthew 27:27–50):

This one is heavy. Jesus is mocked, beaten, and crucified. And yet—He finishes what He came to do. "It is finished." It’s the kind of love that doesn’t quit. The kind that says, “I see you at your worst, and I’m still not leaving.” And maybe that’s what hits me most—because there are days I feel like I’ve failed, missed the mark, or just feel empty. But Friday reminds me: Jesus already paid for that. I don’t have to carry what He’s already nailed to the cross.

Holy Saturday (Matthew 27:57–66):

This is the quiet day. The in-between. Jesus is in the tomb. Hope feels gone. But—God is still working. This day feels familiar. It’s the waiting season. The prayer-that-hasn’t-been-answered-yet space. I’ve written before about how hard the waiting is, how I want the breakthrough now. But Holy Saturday whispers that God is never inactive, even when we don’t see it.

Easter Sunday (Matthew 28:1–10):

He’s alive. The stone is rolled away, not so Jesus could get out—but so we could see in. And I love how the angel says, “Come and see... then go and tell.” That’s the rhythm of our faith, right? We meet Jesus. We see the empty tomb. And then we go. We tell. We live changed.

This Easter, I’m praying we don’t skip the walk. That we don’t rush from palm branches to lilies without pausing at the cross.

Wherever you find yourself this week—celebrating, serving, questioning, waiting, or rejoicing—Jesus is there. And He’s not done. The grave is empty, and our hope is alive.

He is risen! And because of that, there’s always a reason to keep going.