Devotion
My ears rang as the noise reached a level I had never experienced as a 12-year-old. I remember seeing four figures on a distant stage producing decibels just barely above the screams of the mostly teenage girls that filled the Hollywood Bowl that August night in 1966. I can still hear the young ladies directly behind me screaming “Paul!” and “Ringo!” Even to my young mind, it seemed absurd that these adolescent Beatles fans were hoping to catch the attention of those two of the four long-haired British guys despite the noise and the distance. But still, they tried. To this day, when I think of fans, I think of those girls.
Where are those screaming crowds now? Well, most, like me (not screaming and one of the younger kids there that night) are in their 60s and 70s with the memory of that Beatles concert now a distant, somewhat surreal, historical event that links them directly to perhaps the most significant pop culture phenomenon of the 20th century. And today, the Beatle-mania, Beatle boots, Beatle haircuts, and Beatle bobbleheads are as anachronistic as 45s on a turntable. (For you younger ones—that’s how we used to listen to recorded music. And a “record” was a round, flat piece of vinyl that would spin on a turntable and…Oh, never mind. Ask a grandparent!)
Though most in my generation have fond memories of the Beatles, and we can still sing along with all their hits—not missing a word—none of us currently follows the fads they inspired, and few would say they are still enthusiastic fans. Both the followers and the fans have moved on.
Fans are fickle. Their allegiance moves from entertainment, sports, political, or even religious icon to icon, celebrity to celebrity. Fans are the ultimate embodiment of the answer to the age-old question: “What have you done for me lately?” The same team that may have filled a stadium a year ago might be playing before a half-empty arena today. One false move by the superstar politician, and he’s yesterday’s news: no more headlines, cheering crowds, or paparazzi.
If you were in proximity to downtown Jerusalem on a particular ancient day, sometime before the Beatles, your ears would have been ringing. A Rock (the Rock) star had come to town. The real King had arrived. People of all ages shouted “Hosanna!” and “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!” (Matt. 21:9) and “Blessed is the King…!” (Luke 19:38). The crowd was loud, and in place of paparazzi flashes, there were palm branches.
The fans were out in full force. For many, Jesus was the celebrity du jour. The Pharisees mistook this fleeting adulation for genuine commitment, exclaiming, “…look, the world has gone after Him!” (John 12:19). But days later, most had moved on. There were many fickle fans, but few faithful followers.
That scene has been repeated over the centuries more consistently than the Christmas story and passion play put together. Not in dramatic presentations of Jesus’ triumphal entry, but in people who have unwittingly imitated the fickle nature and fleeting adulation of the crowd that day. Countless fans have demonstrated their temporary allegiance to Jesus by raising a hand, walking an aisle, or praying the “sinners’ prayer.” But many, just like on that first Palm Sunday, have moved on; some literally within days, fans of someone or something else.
Jesus did not say, “Go therefore and make fans of all nations…” He said to make “disciples” or followers. The church is not a Jesus fan club. Unlike your typical celebrity, Jesus invites you into a relationship with Him, not simply to cheer for Him. You might say He invites you to “stalk” Him; to stay close, working with Him and for His Kingdom, 24/7.
“My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit, and so prove to be My disciples” —John 15:8