Donkeys

“I always hoped for a burning bush,” said the disillusioned priest reflecting on his longing for God.

“But you got a burning Church,” his mentor pointed out referring to the parish that went up in flames on Christmas morning.

“Not sure that’s the same thing,” the minister replied.

As I sit here on Palm Sunday morning, thinking about the juxtaposition of Jesus on a donkey, I can’t help but see a profound truth that has traveled from the Sunday way back when to this Sunday and all the Sundays in between: God comes to us in unpredictable ways. Like the minister who wanted a burning bush, we think God will come in the spectacular, the bright lights and heavenly choruses, but the gospels tell us otherwise. Whether its an unmarried young girl, a stable in the back, a well at midday, a campfire by a lake, a garden at night, a broken piece of bread, a cross, or a road to a random town called Emmaus, God comes to us in unpredictable ways. The donkey of Palm Sunday was only one on a long list of surprising incarnations. It seems to be God’s way of making himself known.

A volunteer at a soup kitchen is only too happy to help if it gets her out of her house and her abusive marriage. She’d never felt more alone. When serving one of the guests, she caught his bloodshot eyes and he smiled and said, “God’s with you.” With me? What about with you? But for the rest of the day she felt a strange peace, as if God was sitting beside her, and it didn’t take away her troubles but transformed them.

It was a routine pregnancy check up, but they found something. The baby was fine, but she had cancer. Fortunately, the gifted doctors saved the baby and saved the woman. It was nothing like the experience she thought she would have bringing a life into the world, but, looking back, two lives were saved through that unexpected journey, something for which she remains profoundly grateful.

“We need to talk,” his boss said ushering his intoxicated employee into his office. He remembers little of what was said, but he soon found himself at a local rehab center. He lost his job, but he found his life. He surrendered his power and discovered the power of faith. Sober now for many years, he realized God was in that office, saying the difficult words.

Donkeys come in all shapes and sizes, but the still, small voice of God can be heard in the most unlikely places – a soup kitchen, a hospital, a boss’ office, to name only a few. It’s enough to get me to lay down a garment or cut a palm branch in gratitude.

By Charlotte bristol

(age 7, i think)