The Donkey

An “I Am the Clay” Vignette*

Mary-Joseph_Donkey

It was a pleasant, late fall day in the Samarian hill country. The main road was lined with men, women, children, the rich, the poor—each heading south, each on his or her way to take part in a government-ordered census.

Most seemed to be traveling in large groups of family and neighbors, with the exception of the young couple with the donkey traveling alone. (They had waited until most everyone in their own village had left, so as to keep from answering too many questions.)

She—Mary, very expectant—rode comfortably on the back of the donkey (Levi, she had named him; a good-natured jab at her younger brother with the same name) while he, Joseph, led the way.

Like us, Levi’s task was to carry the unborn Savior and, in effect, the good news He would bring—the gospel—to “all Judea and Samaria, and (our task, not Levi’s) to the ends of the earth.”

Unlike us, though, Levi wasn’t aware of that; after all, he was only a donkey. He didn’t know the one he was carrying was Immanuel—“God with us”—the one the prophet Isaiah had written about 700 years earlier.

Still, he faithfully carried out the task assigned to him.

The question is—are we? Are we faithfully carrying out the task assigned to us? Do we see it our calling to carry the light of the gospel to every corner of a dark world? Or are we content to leave that baby in the manger? Content to shop and feast and sing of the angels and the shepherds, the star and the wise men, the manger and the stable, and then pack it up and store it in the attic until next year?

That’s not why He came. He didn’t come to be the centerpiece of our Christmas pageant or the “reason for the season.” He came—His words, once He was old enough to speak them—“that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.”

Not just life, but abundant life.

One day, after He was grown, He said that “life does not consist in an abundance of possessions.” (Luke 12:16 NIV) He also said that “everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or wife or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life.” (Matthew 19:29 NIV)

The abundant life He came to give isn’t found in things or people or events—even events inspired by His birth. It’s found in Him, who He is. And one day, He told us who He is…

…He said He is “the life.” (John 14:6 NIV)

The life.”

As one who has been given “the life,” how can I not do as “the life” said and carry His good news to “the ends of the earth”?

Good question.

Levi faithfully carried out the task assigned to him…

Are we…?


*A brief written piece about a person or event. Or a donkey.

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Indelible

An “I Am the Clay” Vignette*

Indelible

“Ink”—slang for tattoos. Ink is actually an appropriate moniker for tattoos, as ink, in most cases, is indelible…permanent…un-erasable—like tattoos.

The most inked human I know is one I affectionately call “my boy.” He’s tattooed from the neck down—or so he says, as there are a couple of private spots I haven’t seen (and ain’t asking about and don’t wanna). Tattoos are kind of like indelible reminders of wear and tear from the past.

And he’s definitely got a past—drug use and abuse, civil disobedience, jail time. But that past also includes marrying a beautiful wife who kept his family—their family—together while his drug use ran its course.

And then one day there was an encounter with Almighty God, delivery from his demons, a sure and certain moment of salvation.

And now for the rest of the story…

Bold

An “I Am the Clay” Vignette*

Bold 1

…the righteous are as bold as a lion. Proverbs 28:1 NIV

“Can I try this one in a size 10?”

“Yes, sir—let me get that for you.”

The Thom McAnn Shoes clerk disappeared through the curtain to the stock room to retrieve a pair of black wingtips for my daddy, while we—my daddy, my mother, and I—sat at the back of the store and waited.

It was 1972, the heyday of the Gateway Shopping Center in Decatur, Alabama, just before the shopping mall explosion. Besides the shoe store, there was a Woolworths, complete with a snack counter that served huge banana splits; a Quick Chek grocery store where they let my granny buy cigarettes with food stamps; a Sears and Roebuck, also in its heyday; and a movie theater with two screens. (A few years later, I saw the original Star Wars there 11 times.)

Decatur was a small town back then and people were, for the most part, respectful.

For the most part…

And now for the rest of the story…

Mama

An “I Am the Clay” Vignette*

Mama

She is clothed with strength and dignity… Proverbs 31:25

She leaves her afghan folded up in the pew at church where she and my daddy have sat as long as I can remember—second pew on the right, facing the pulpit. (The Epistle side, if you’re an Episcopalian.) The men keep it way too cold in there for the women, so emergency afghans and blankets dot the church.

She loves me fiercely, as I do her. When I called them the morning I became a Christian, she shouted. Baptists don’t do much shouting. (Or hand-raising. Too prissy.) Mama did that morning.

While she’s sat in the same pew for all those years, she’s not the same person. She’s grown spiritually the past several years. Now that I’m a Christian, many of our phone conversations end up as deep theological discussions. She’s had to up her game.

I send her books and CDs and she reads my blog. I like to get off into hypothesizing on the organic fluidity of justification and the timing of the rapture. She says I challenge her. (That may just be a nice way of saying I’m full of myself.)

She’s become quite strong—stronger than I think she ever imagined being. She stood up to a car salesman last week and drove out of there with exactly what she wanted at the price she wanted. I knew she had it in her.

But that strength goes a lot deeper—it lives somewhere down about where the Holy Spirit lives. I wouldn’t mess with her.

She’s my mama. I’m proud of her and wouldn’t wanna be anybody else’s son.

Well, God’s son, of course—but she’s happy to share…


*A brief written piece about a person or event.

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