Join The Parade "Philippians 2"
I’ve never been too excited about parades. I mean, when I was a kid I was pretty jazzed about filling up my ball cap with candy but let’s be honest—it’s not good candy. Mostly parades just mean blocked streets, traffic, and all the lawn chairs at Academy on backorder.
Do you know who Bob Goff is? He’s a Christian author with a lot of wild inspiring stories. He’s like a 65-year-old Peter Pan. He tells a story about how his family started their own neighborhood parade tradition. Not going to a parade—being one. They sent out invitations to everyone in the neighborhood, inviting them to be part of a parade. There was just one rule—nobody was allowed to watch the parade, everyone had to actually be in it.
And people showed up. Kids decorated their bikes with streamers. Dressed up their dogs. There was a guy playing bagpipes—because apparently there’s always someone with a bagpipe—and one lady came dressed as a chicken—just because she had the suit, and finally a reason to wear it.
They all marched down the street—no plan, no choreography, no approval from the HOA. It was unorganized, a little awkward and absolutely wonderful. This year was the 27th annual “nobody can watch, everybody has to be in it” parade and had over 800 participants.
That’s not how parades usually work. Usually there’s a few special people in the parade waving at the peasants, and everyone else is on the sidewalk. Spectating. Watching. Trying to keep their kids from getting run over if someone throws candy. But they’re not really involved.
Watching a parade is okay but being in the parade is a lot more fun.
Kind of works as a metaphor for our lives.
Most of us are watching life from the sidewalk—instead of doing. We don’t go on adventures—we just scroll through other people’s photos of theirs—or play video games. We don’t sing out loud—we listen to other people sing—hit play on a playlist. We don’t play sports—we watch sports. We don’t talk to real people about real things—we text emojis, scroll social media, and binge shows about people pretending to be people—spend our real lives watching people live fake lives. It’s pretty weird.
And spiritually? Same thing. We spectate. We watch from the curb. Let other people read the Bible for us, sit in a worship service and listen to other people sing. Bow our head when someone else prays—are we praying, too? Is that how it works? Other people talk about their hope, share the Gospel, have meaningful conversations with their friends and family. We know Jesus is doing things all around our lives. We’re just not sure how it involves us.
But what does that have to do with Palm Sunday? Well, Jesus didn’t leave room for spectators. He led a parade—and not one to just be watched. It was all about participating. Singing hosanna! Following Him into Jerusalem with palm branches in their hands, their own cloaks on the road, it was even a borrowed donkey. This was a procession of the King of the universe leading His people to salvation with a cross waiting at the end.
He had gone to Jerusalem many times before. Quietly. Under the radar. This time was different. This time was loud. Un-ignorable. He had everyone’s attention.
The palm branches a symbol of Israel’s national identity, a protest against their Roman oppressors. Waving those palm branches was like waving a rebel flag. The donkey was the fulfillment of a prophecy about the Messiah from Zechariah. Everything knew what these things meant. This was a bold statement. He was saying, “I’m the Christ. You can’t ignore this.”
And it’s such an interesting contrast. He arrives as the King. People are shouting His name and praising Him. But at the same time. He arrives in humility. To conquer without weapons or power. God in the flesh riding a donkey followed by an army of common people.
I want to look at Philippians 2:1–11 and walk through it together, because this is Paul’s explanation of the parade Jesus started—and how we’re called to join it.
You know how sometimes DVDs have a commentary track where the director and actors talk about making the movie and all the hidden things that you might have missed? Think of Philippians chapter two like a DVD commentary on Palm Sunday and Holy Week—Paul’s behind the scenes peek on what Jesus was really doing that day.
So if there is any encouragement in Christ, any comfort from love, any participation in the Spirit, any affection and sympathy, Philippians 2:1
Paul opens with a stack of “ifs”—but they’re rhetorical. He’s not wondering if these things exist—he’s saying, “Since you’ve experienced encouragement in Christ… since you’ve received His love and the fellowship of the Spirit… don’t just hold onto it for yourself.”
“Participation in the Spirit” means fellowship. Koinonia. Sharing life in the Spirit. We don’t just watch from the crowd, we walk with each other as we follow Jesus.
Complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Philippians 2:2
The goal isn’t uniformity—it’s unity. “One mind” doesn’t mean everyone has to love the same worship style or root for the same football team. It means having the mind of Christ. Seeing each other through the lens of grace. Pulling in the same direction.
“Of one mind” means sharing in Christ’s mindset—humble, loving—not mindless conformity.
Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Philippians 2:3
Ugh. This goes against everything the world screams at us—all our natural instincts. But it doesn’t say to completely ignore yourself—it says to look at others and assume they’re more important than you are. Respect people. Treat them like their ideas and opinions matter—even when you disagree.
Imagine if we actually took this to heart and believed others’ needs mattered more than our pride or what we wanted. It might look like weakness to some people but it would be true strength and Christlikeness.
Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. Philippians 2:4
This is where the Christian life steps off the curb and into the street. We’re wired to protect our interests. That’s easy. But Paul says: also look out for others. Care for what God cares about. If someone’s struggling, move toward them. If someone’s rejoicing, join the dance. Get in the parade.
Stop obsessing over your own problems and self-image. Trust that God has you. Then you’ll be free to think about other people.
Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, Philippians 2:5
It’s not: “Try harder to be like Jesus.” It’s: “This mindset is already yours—in your connection to Him.” You’re not trying to copy Jesus. You’ve already been united with Him. This is what the Spirit is doing in you—causing you to think like Jesus. It’s a gift. The more we trust in Jesus, the more we start to resemble Him. Trusting Him. This is what faith means.
This next section starts quoting one of the earliest Christian worship songs we have record of…
who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, Philippians 2:6
Jesus was—and is—God. He didn’t have to prove it or cling to it. He let go—not of His divinity, but of the glory and honor that came with it. That’s the opposite of how we usually use power. We grasp. He released. On Palm Sunday, the people really wanted a different Jesus, they wanted Him to grasp power, crush Rome, and establish His kingdom on earth. But instead…
He emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. Philippians 2:7
This is the great self-emptying—what theologians call kenosis. Made Himself nothing. Jesus didn’t stop being God. He just didn’t cash in on it. He was born like us. Grew up. Got hungry. Got tired. Took on everything it means to be human—just like you and me, except without sinning.
He’s riding a donkey, not a war horse. He has a parade of peasants, not an army of royal soldiers.
And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Philippians 2:8
He knows where this parade ends. He’s going willingly. He’ll be humiliated, crucified, executed like a criminal. Cursed by hanging on a tree. Publically shamed. He’ll take the sin of the entire human race on Himself and die.
Why? Because it had been the plan from the beginning. It’s God’s will. Jesus is faithfully being perfectly obedient.
Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, Philippians 2:9
Because of His obedience, His humility, His love—Jesus is exalted. Not just as a reward, but as a revelation of who He’s always been: the King of kings. The name above all names. The name they were chanting on Palm Sunday. “Hosanna” means “God save us!” “Jesus” (Yeshua) means “Yahweh saves!” He is Yahweh in the flesh. He is God who saves us!
They might have thought Palm Sunday was the big moment—Jesus knew that moment was going to be after the cross, after the resurrection, after He had gathered all His people from every nation—when He returns at the end of time to judge the living and the dead.
so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, Philippians 2:10
One day—everyone will recognize who He is. Some in joy. Some in fear. But no one will ignore Him or fail to recognize Him. Bow in joy and thankfulness now, or bow in terror and regret later.
What was said of Yahweh in Isaiah 45:23 is now being said of Jesus, “Every knee will bow and…”
every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. Philippians 2:11
This is the first Christian creed. This is what it means to say you are a Christian, that “Jesus Christ is Lord.” It’s not just words—it’s surrender. It’s saying, “I’m not the center of the universe. He is.”
And that’s where it hits us.
God calls us to live in humility. To count others as more significant. To let go of pride and self-interest. To stop passively spectating, stand up, and start following the King on the donkey—participating in the life of Christ.
But sometimes we don’t.
We treat life like a competition. We hoard attention, time—seek comfort. We spend more energy curating a phony life on social media than caring for the people who are actually in our lives. We nod along with Jesus on Sunday morning and betray Him by Sunday afternoon.
We watch the parade from the sidewalk—and wonder why it feels so empty.
God calls us to have the mind of Christ. And most days… we’d rather have the mind of a Facebook comment section in a post about Trump.
God told us to love our enemies. To put others before ourselves. To die to our egos. Not once in a while, when we feel like it—daily. That’s what humility looks like. That’s what Christlikeness is. And we don’t want it. We’d rather be admired than serve. We’d rather be right than kind.
We fail. We fall short. We insist on being the worst version of ourselves. We watch the Jesus parade from the sidelines in a chicken suit.
And still—Jesus rode in.
He knew the betrayal was coming.
He knew the crowd would turn.
He knew the cross was waiting.
And still—He humbled Himself.
Still—He emptied Himself.
Still—He died.
For you. Do you believe that?
Not because you earned it. Not because you cleaned up your act.
Because you couldn’t.
Because you were stuck on the sidewalk and He pulled you into the parade.
Because you were dead in your sins, and He raised you to life.
Because you were far off, and He brought you near.
He joined your human mess so you could be united with His divine grace.
He was lifted up on the cross so you could be lifted up in mercy.
He took your sin so you could take His forgiveness. His mercy. His name.
Jesus Christ is Lord. He is the God who saves.
And He did it all—for you.
So… maybe it’s time to get out of your lawn chair.
Maybe it’s time to stop spectating your own life.
You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t need a costume or a plan. Just show up.
The only decoration you need is thankful joy.
The parade is already happening—and Jesus is leading it.
Hear His call.
Join the parade.
Wave that palm branch like you mean it. Shout Hosanna not just as a song, but as a prayer. "Save me now!"
Lay down whatever pride or fear is keeping you on the sidewalk.
And follow the One who rode in to save you.
Because this isn’t just a story about something that happened two thousand years ago.
It’s a story about what’s happening now.
Palm Sunday is the start of Holy Week. It’s when Jesus said, “Okay, let’s do this.”
And maybe this is the week you do the same.
Come on. Nobody just gets to watch, everybody has to be in it.
No spectators. No sidelined saints just waiting for candy. No spiritual benchwarmers watching everyone else doing everything.
Jesus is riding by.
He’s inviting you to walk with Him.
Join the parade.
Hosanna in the highest.