The Story of Donkey

A man got a donkey one day.  It wasn’t big or amazingly strong but he needed it to help him carry his burdens.

The donkey was faithful, though often he was slow.  He was strong but the more weight the man put on him, the slower he seemed to go.  He was a gentle donkey but, well, like I said, he was slow.

The man kept the donkey for many years but used him less and less for he was not a patient man.  He would carry his own burdens, though it hurt his back and damaged his knees.  It just drove him to frustration that his donkey was so slow.

One day, he found himself far from home, alone, in a place he did not recognize.  He heard wolves calling and voices in dark places and the donkey just seemed to be plodding.  His burdens were great and he shared some of them with the donkey, but wouldn’t lay too much on him for fear of them stopping altogether.

The attack came out of nowhere.  Robbers had lain waiting for just the right moment then jumped out of hiding to steal, to kill, to destroy. But as fast as they were, they were not fast enough.  The donkey spun and kicked and bit, braying viciously.

At seeing the donkey fighting, the man fought to but only succeeded in receiving a knife wound in his side and a club to his head.  As he fell, he felt the donkey come under him, so he grabbed on with all his might.  The donkey thundered away, carrying the man, his burdens and the burdens he had lain on the beast.  The thieves were left far behind.

God is not a donkey.  But I treat Him that way.  I am angry with His mannerisms, His “slowness”, His “smallness”.  But, He is only slow from my perspective, only small in my eyes.

We stupidly see God as something fathomable, comprehendable from our, in our finite minds.  The best that my heart can understand of who God is, His love, His power, His majesty, is but a donkey compared to HIS reality.

That shames me.