A MERE COLT
“I have so much to offer God,” my pride calls from within. As I pass through the city gate, I can see a vision of what Jesus can do with me, with my life, and I am excited.
Ah, Jerusalem during the Passover, there is no greater thing. I have heard the Lord will also be coming into the city. I’ll wait for him at the gate. I have so much to offer Jesus.
I look around at the throng of commercial travelers and religious pilgrims. Day after day, I journeyed in expectation. I overcame the dangerous roads and the highwaymen. I came on foot, carrying all my provisions on my back and on the back on my young donkey. Surely the time has come for me to be of great service—surely the Lord will be passing this way today. So, patiently, I wait a little longer.
And then I see two men coming my way. I recognize them as Jesus’ disciples! I stand a little taller because I know these men are sent from him. My time has come. I look into their eyes, but they are not looking at me.
As I stand there, they bypass me and go to my donkey—a mere colt. They start to untie it.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask, as I watch their fingers unfasten the tether from the doorpost.
“The Lord needs it and will send it back here shortly,” the men answer. Then they walk away, leading the beast.
“My donkey?” I mutter. The Lord wants to use my donkey? What about me? What about my talents? My abilities? My availability? What about that, Lord?
Then I see a crowd forming. Young and old. Rich and poor. Together they line the street. They wave palm branches and spread their garments on the road. Their voices cry out in a loud cheer, “Hosanna in the highest!”
It is a prayer of deliverance. The promised Messiah has come. He will defeat the Romans, the enemy. And I will be the first behind Jesus.
Well, I would have been had he chosen me.
I squeeze my way through the jumble of arms and branches, and then I see him. There is my Lord! My eyes tear. There is my donkey. The Lord is riding on my donkey. I drop to my knees, for now I realize my service.
“Dear Jesus,” my soul cries. “Forgive my pride. You have used what I have considered least, yet you are elevated.”
“Continue to use me, Lord,” I pray. My voice battles against the cries of the people. “What I consider my best, may not be what you need from me at all. Now I understand, Jesus. What you need most is my open arms, and my willingness to serve you in any way you ask.”
I look up from my place on the crowded road, and I look into his eyes as he passes by. Jesus. Hosanna!
It is then I know that my small gift is monumental, historical.