Holy Week is a week marked by intention. Every day matters. Every moment unfolds with purpose, each one leading to the moment when redemption was fully revealed. It reminds us that we don’t always recognize the moments that lead to deliverance. What feels like a normal day may be the very day God uses to bring it about.

On the first Palm Sunday, the crowd shouted “Hosanna,” expecting salvation to look very different: political, triumphant, a liberation from Rome. They didn’t understand. They didn’t want a King who would secure victory through sacrifice, but one who would secure victory through force.

Each year at my church, to begin Holy Week, we sing “Hosanna.” The Friendship Class, a group of adults with developmental disabilities, waves palm branches as we sing. I watch them move down the aisle, palm branches held high, faces lit with the kind of joy that doesn’t second-guess itself. The original crowd shouted from what the world called strength, only to discover that Jesus would win through what the world called weakness. Now, our church is being led in praise by those the world’s history might have overlooked. That is the reversal. Every year, I feel it. Weakness made strong. 

This year, Maundy Thursday and Autism Awareness Day fall on the same day. Special needs is close to me. It is my career, and it is woven into my family. The overlap has caused me to pause and ask: what do we miss when we decide too quickly what strength looks like?

In the Garden of Gethsemane, we see Jesus in one of His most vulnerable moments, yet it is there that His strength is clearly revealed. Five times in that garden, Jesus shows us that what the world perceives as weakness is actually divine strength.

Jesus Leans on His Friends: Matthew 26:37–38

Jesus, when He was worried and troubled, asked His friends for support. Not because He had no other option. He is God. But because He chose not to face this alone. The all-powerful One received the love and care of His friends. The world says, “Do it on your own.” Jesus shows us here that even if you can, don’t.

Jesus Asks: Luke 22:39–42

In His trouble, Jesus asked more than once for there to be another way. This was not a failure of faith. Trust and communion with the Father meant bringing His honest thoughts before Him, not editing them out. Jesus shows us that wanting something to be different is not unbelief. He didn’t let that desire become a wall between Himself and His Father. He let it be the very avenue to communion with His Father.

Jesus Strengthened: Luke 22:43–44

The Father ultimately said no, but in that “no,” He sent an angel to strengthen Jesus. Jesus may have desired another way, but He chose a greater desire. He looked to the joy set before Him and endured the walk to the cross (Hebrews 12:2). This shows us that even if we receive a “no,” it is not because we are unloved or unsupported, but because there is a greater purpose ahead, and our Father will strengthen us as we take steps forward.

Notice verse 44. It does not say Jesus got up and had a settled heart or easy confidence. It says, “being in agony He prayed more earnestly; and His sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground.” Strength does not always look like calm resolve. Sometimes it looks like the ability to keep moving while scared.

Jesus Submits: John 18:4–6

When Judas and the guards came looking for Jesus, He gave Himself up. When they asked who He was and He said, “I am He,” the guards fell to their knees. With just His words, His captors were overcome, and yet He willingly walked with them. Submission is not always weakness. Sometimes it is the highest expression of strength: entrusting yourself fully to the will of a good Father.

Jesus Is Merciful: Luke 22:49–51

Peter, desperate to protect Jesus, cut off the ear of a guard. Immediately, Jesus healed him. In the moment of His own betrayal, surrounded by the men who came to arrest Him, Jesus’ instinct was to fix what His defender had broken. He met betrayal with healing, mercy in the face of betrayal. Jesus is showing us that true power is not ultimately used to destroy, but restore.

A New Kind of Strength

“Maundy” comes from the Latin mandatum, meaning command. It refers to the new commandment Jesus gave at the Last Supper: “Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another” (John 13:34).

As I have loved you. This is the echo of Holy Week. He loved us through what the world said was weakness, but God said is divine strength.

Those with disabilities are not weak. But the world has often looked at them and decided they were. That is the very assumption Jesus keeps overturning. And yet there is real hardship when disability enters our lives. We long for the day when there will be no disability, no illness, no suffering. Easter is the promise that this day is coming. Wholeness is closer than we can see.

But in the in-between, as we wait, anyone who loves someone with a disability knows there are real gifts to be received, gifts that you wouldn’t trade. This year, Autism Awareness Day and Maundy Thursday falling on the same day reminded me of that. So let that truth flow into how we see weakness in general. You don’t know what kind of gift is lying behind it.

2 Corinthians 12:9 says, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”

So what do we miss when we decide too quickly what strength looks like? We miss the opportunity for the power of Christ to rest upon us. Let this Easter weekend remind you that whatever perceived weakness you feel in your own life, God is not distant from it. He is both willing and able to make it the very place His strength is revealed.