The Servant and His Triumph | Mark 11:1-19
Sermon Summary
I love the slow-motion button on cameras – how it reveals what we’d never catch at normal speed. You’ve seen those videos of fruit exploding or hummingbirds hovering, and it opens a whole new dimension of sight. In many ways, the Gospels do something similar when they come to the final days of Jesus. They don’t rush; they slow down, giving us greater detail so we can see every act and hear every word with fresh clarity. Mark chapter 11 is where that slow motion begins for us. From here until His resurrection, Mark devotes nearly half of his Gospel to this final week. That alone tells us something special is unfolding.
Today, we’ll examine three lessons from Jesus as He enters Jerusalem for the last time: the lesson of His triumph, the lesson of the fig tree, and the lesson of the temple. Each one unveils more of Christ’s heart, His mission, and the kind of response He wants from us. So, journey with me from Bethany to the Mount of Olives, down the slope into the city, and ultimately into the temple. Let’s see what Jesus is teaching us as events slow to a holy hush in these last days.
The Lesson of His Triumph
The chapter opens with Jesus approaching Jerusalem from Jericho. He’s on a collision course with the cross, yet an enthusiastic crowd joins Him. Reaching the outskirts – Bethphage and Bethany near the Mount of Olives – Jesus instructs two disciples: “Go into the village. You’ll find a colt tied up. Bring it to Me.” He even anticipates the owners’ objection and supplies the answer: “Tell them, ‘The Lord has need of it.’” Right away, we see Jesus’ sovereign awareness. He knows exactly where to find this young donkey, unused and not broken in – a donkey that would normally buck anyone who tried to climb on its back.
But Jesus calmly sits upon it. This is no ordinary donkey ride. Mark 11:7–10 describes a spontaneous parade: people laying their cloaks on the road, cutting branches (John’s Gospel says they’re palm branches), and crying, “Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!” The word “Hosanna” means “Save us now,” echoing Psalm 118. It’s a moment bursting with messianic expectation: the King is here!
What’s remarkable is that Jesus, who so often discouraged public acclaim, now welcomes it. He’s fulfilling a prophecy from Zechariah 9:9, which pictured Israel’s Messiah humbly riding on a donkey. The disciples must have been elated. They’d walked with Him three years, longing for people to recognize Him. Now the crowds seem to celebrate: “Hosanna in the highest!” But Jesus also knows many hearts are fickle. Some in this same crowd will soon shout, “Crucify Him!” They want a conquering political hero, not the suffering servant He is about to be.
For us, the lesson is twofold: Jesus truly is King, worthy of all honor, yet we must watch out for hollow hype. God asks not merely that we wave palm branches, but that we submit to His rule in our hearts. He wants genuine worship, not just excited words. Do we hail Him as King on Sunday yet fail to surrender on Monday? The “triumphal entry” invites us to enthrone Jesus in every area of life – not just in emotional moments.
After the celebration, Mark 11:11 says Jesus goes into the temple, looks around, then returns to Bethany. In effect, the day ends with a quiet sense of expectancy: we see the King come to His city. But what will happen next?
The Lesson of the Tree
The next morning, Jesus travels from Bethany back toward Jerusalem, and Mark 11:12–14 notes He’s hungry. Spotting a fig tree with leaves, He approaches, hoping to find those early, edible figs that usually appear before the leaves fully bloom. But the tree has nothing but leaves – no fruit at all. Jesus then says, “No one will ever eat fruit from you again,” and His disciples overhear.
At first, this can appear puzzling. Why would Jesus curse a tree that “wasn’t in season yet”? But the key is that a fig tree that’s sprouted leaves normally has at least some early figs. By showing leaves, it’s advertising fruitfulness. Yet upon inspection, there’s nothing there. It’s a living metaphor for empty religiosity – all the outward show, no real substance.
Throughout Scripture, the fig tree often symbolizes Israel. The nation had God’s law, the temple, the sacrifices, all the external trappings of faith, but remained unrepentant and inwardly barren. By cursing the fruitless fig tree, Jesus is pronouncing a symbolic judgment on superficial faith that does not produce genuine spiritual fruit.
But this isn’t just about ancient Israel. It also challenges us. Do we carry leaves of busyness, knowledge, religious talk, but bear no abiding spiritual fruit? Jesus says in John 15: “I am the Vine, you are the branches … without Me you can do nothing.” Fruit flows from a life anchored in Jesus, not from performance or pretense. As believers, our calling is to manifest spiritual fruit – Christlike character (love, joy, peace, etc.) and a life that blesses and draws others to Christ. If all we have is an appearance of devotion – leaves without figs – we’re missing the very thing that pleases God: heart transformation and God-honoring works.
Later, in Mark 11:20–21, the disciples notice the fig tree withered to the roots. Peter says, “Rabbi, look! The fig tree You cursed has dried up!” The warning stands: superficial religion, absent of genuine repentance and growth, withers away. May that sober us into avoiding a hollow, leaf-only spirituality. Our Lord seeks fruit that remains, grown from abiding in Him.
The Lesson of the Temple
Once Jesus arrives again in Jerusalem, Mark 11:15–17 depicts one of the most striking scenes: Jesus enters the temple courts, overturns tables of money changers, and drives out merchants selling sacrificial animals at exorbitant rates. He won’t let anyone carry their wares through that sacred precinct. Then He proclaims, “Is it not written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer for all nations’? But you have made it a den of thieves!”
This is actually the second time Jesus cleanses the temple. Early in His ministry (John 2), He did something similar. Yet the corruption crept back. The priests, scribes, and merchants had turned worship into a profit-driven enterprise. People needed animals for sacrifices and had to change foreign currency into temple currency, yet the fees were extortionate. They’d turned what was intended for prayer, humility, and communion with God into a commercial racket.
What’s jolting is how the religious leaders respond: they plot to destroy Jesus (Mark 11:18). Instead of repenting, they prefer to eliminate the One who confronts them. This exposes a common human reaction: when God’s truth convicts us, we often resist by silencing the messenger. Yet the temple’s corruption wouldn’t vanish just because they got rid of Jesus. True renewal would require deep humility and brokenness before God.
We, too, can treat church or spiritual settings as a place of personal gain, status, or comfort, missing God’s heart. The temple was meant for worship and prayer, for encountering God’s holiness. When self-interest reigns, worship is polluted. Whenever the Word challenges our priorities, do we yield or do we bury the conviction, pushing Jesus aside? Scripture reminds us that “God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble.” If we want more of Christ, we must allow Him to cleanse our hearts, drive out wrong motives, and restore us to prayerful dependence on Him.
Put it all together: the crowd’s outward praise but inward confusion, the fig tree’s leaves but no figs, and the bustling temple commerce overshadowing true devotion. God calls for sincerity – that our worship, our fruit-bearing, and our reverence be genuine, not hollow. He came not just to fix externals but to transform hearts. If we let Him cleanse our “temple,” we can rediscover the wonder and power of prayer, of fruitfulness, of living wholeheartedly for Jesus the King.
Reflection
So we have three lessons in this single chapter’s unfolding drama, each one a vivid image:
Jesus’ Triumphal Entry – a King riding a humble donkey, welcomed with shouts of “Hosanna!” We must ask if our praises are real or just echoes of the crowd. Are we prepared to give Him absolute lordship, especially when He may not fulfill our expectations the way we want?
The Fruitless Fig Tree – all the show of life but no actual fruit. It’s a cautionary picture that warns us not to settle for outward religion, knowledge, or reputation without a living communion with Jesus that bears lasting fruit. Is there real evidence of God’s Spirit in the everyday patterns of our lives?
The Cleansing of the Temple – a righteous indignation over hypocrisy and greed in a sacred space. This underscores the seriousness of worship – that our hearts and gatherings be places of genuine prayer and reverence, not self-serving agendas. When confronted with sin or misplaced priorities, do we open ourselves to change or try to remove the source of conviction?
Stepping back, each lesson converges on the same call: draw near in sincerity. Our King is not fooled by appearances. He longs for hearts that worship Him in spirit and truth. May we wave palm branches and shout “Hosanna!” not as a passing emotion, but as a consistent lifestyle of yielding to His authority and cherishing His presence. May our lives bear fruit – love, joy, peace, service – grown from abiding in Christ, not from religious show. And may our “temple,” this body and soul, be a house of prayer where our Lord reigns without rival.
In the final analysis, Mark 11 invites us to slow down and behold: the King has come near, checking for genuine faith. Are we truly welcoming Him with more than applause? Are we living with real spiritual fruit? Are we allowing Him to drive out whatever detracts from prayerful devotion? May we not wither like that fig tree, nor grow hard like the temple merchants, but yield ourselves to the King’s gentle, yet decisive, transformation. That’s the only road that leads us on to Resurrection joy, to the life we’re meant to have in Him.
