Have you ever heard my story, that of a talking donkey?  In spite of the obvious temptation to formulate a meme at my expense, I am going to share my story anyway.  We donkeys appear numerous times in your Bible, but usually only in practical references to carrying your loads of cargo.  But on at least three occasions, we profoundly impacted your faith family.

One of our most famous biblical spotlights occurred during the years of the Exodus.  God’s children were camped on the plains of Moab across from Jericho.  The king of Moab saw the hordes of Israelites gathering in his territory and knew that he had to confront them.  Fearing that their military prowess was far too great for him, he called for a sorcerer named Balaam, who could reportedly bring good on those he blessed and evil on those he cursed.  The king summoned Balaam in hopes to hire him to curse the Israelites. 

That’s where my ancestral lineage entered the story.  Balaam climbed aboard his donkey for the journey to the Israelites’ camp.  Along the way, the angel of the Lord appeared three times to stop Balaam from carrying out this evil plan.  Each time, the donkey saw the angel in the path and stopped, and each time, Balaam beat the donkey for not going forward.

That’s when it happened…the talking donkey moment.  My ancestor, Balaam’s donkey, complained about his treatment: “…What have I done to you to make you beat me these three times?” (Numbers 22:28).  As though words from a donkey were not strange enough, Balaam gets into an argument with … his donkey.  God interrupted this ludicrous dispute by also opening Balaam’s eyes to see the angel of the Lord standing in front of him, stopping him in his tracks and preventing his going to the Israelites. 

Which was the greater miracle: words from a donkey’s mouth or divine vision for a mercenary sorcerer?  Perhaps instead the greatest evidence of God’s intervention might have been that the lowly donkey saw God’s messenger on the path.  In spite of our reputation for being stubborn and set in our ways, Balaam’s donkey saw God’s presence and submitted to the divine authority.  It is rather humbling to know that my family line played a part in God’s children entering the Promised Land.    

Another well-known appearance of my family lineage occurred during the transport of Mary from Nazareth to Bethlehem.  For the census of Caesar Augustus, everyone returned to their hometown to be counted.  But there was a holier mission at stake.  Mary, Joseph, and their unborn child traveled to Bethlehem where the babe was to be born.   Talk about precious cargo.  Mary was expecting her child any moment.  Yet, historical prophecy depended on her arrival in Bethlehem before the baby was born.  Again, this important task was assigned to a forebear of mine.  Not wanting to do anything that could interfere with the ordained time and place of the child’s birth, the donkey carefully navigated every step, avoiding a rock that might trip him or a divot that might cause a stumble.  The tenuous trip was successful, as you undoubtedly know, and the Son of God was indeed born in Bethlehem. 

I know I have a different perspective on this, but why doesn’t the donkey get any credit for the smooth, uneventful journey?  The Gospels never mention a donkey in the story.  If it weren’t for pictures on the cover of Christmas greeting cards, the world may never have even considered the presence of a donkey at all!  But there was my ancestor, doing a thankless job once again.  No recognition.  No praise.  Just doing what donkeys do.  He carefully carried his consignment to her destination.  The difference was that this time, the payload he carried was a soon-to-be mother, along with her future Savior of the world.

What does Balaam’s talking donkey have in common with the unmentioned donkey that carried Mary and the unborn Jesus?  They share one of the common traits of our species: dependability.  One of our trademarks is that we persistently press on and move forward, doing whatever job assigned to us, persevering against physical odds.  We do the work.  That is what we do.  That is why we are sought.

A third mention of our family line occurred in the event in which I was personally involved.  One day, some men came to lead me away from my home.  The only reason I overheard was that the Lord needed me.  Before long, I realized I was carrying Jesus on my back, winding my way through throngs of people!  People were singing choruses from the Scriptures about His blessed coming in the name of the Lord.  They were lining the path before us with their cloaks.  I kept steady in spite of the uncertain footing of clothes underfoot, not to mention the startling palm branches unexpectedly waving all around me.  Just as my ancestor who carried Mary thirty-three years earlier, I knew that I had someone special on board.  I walked deliberately, proudly, and cautiously.

We arrived in Jerusalem at the temple, and just like that, I retreated again quietly into the shadows of history, just as my ancestors had done.  After all, the story has never been about me or my ancestors.  We simply carried out our assignments with humility and dependability.  And now, my job was finished.

People have tried to keep my memory alive over the years by developing stories of what I did after I delivered Jesus to Jerusalem.  One of my favorites is that I happened upon Golgotha on Friday.  I had not been able to forget my passenger of a week earlier.  He was so kind, so gentle, so soft-spoken.  On that grotesque hill, I could not imagine why anyone would want to crucify Him.  Your legend about me claims that I was so drawn to Jesus that I stayed at the foot of the cross that Friday, but it was so painful that I turned away so as not to watch the pain He was suffering.  In appreciation of my love for Him, Jesus caused the shadow of the cross to fall across my back.  Just as I had carried Him on my back into Jerusalem, I would now carry His cross on my back as a forever symbol of His love.

The next time you see a donkey, look at his back.  You will see the cross.  The markings of a cross can be visibly seen on the back of almost all donkeys.  It is a reminder of the day I fulfilled my task with the Savior. That is why I have passed this story on down through generations. 

You can decide if you believe the story of how we donkeys got our mark of the cross or not.  But what is more important is for you to recognize how faithfully we fulfilled our tasks in Scripture.  We did our job by protecting the Israelites on their journey to the Promised Land by causing Balaam to submit to the angel of God, by gently cradling the expectant Mary so that the Child would be born in Bethlehem as God had predetermined, and by carefully hoisting the Lord on my back as we marched triumphantly into the Holy City to announce His kingship. 

My legacy is a challenge to you.  What is your role in lifting up the Lord to further His mission?  What must you do to bear the mark of Jesus on your back?  Whatever is your purpose, may you find it and do it.  You may not get any praise.  You may not even be mentioned.  You may not even be noticed.  But you will know what you have done.  Most importantly of all, our Lord will know what you have done.  Then, you will have made a difference.

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