Dale Lloyd

In an ancient story we are told
of a donkey—unlikely, stubborn, old.
The beast was briefly given voice
to halt a prophet’s reckless choice.

I try to picture that strange scene
and wonder what it must have been
to hear rebuke—unmistakable—
from one whose role seemed laughable.

This beast of burden, shaped by rod,
what qualified him to be used by God?
No Master’s degree, no learned claim,
no structured creed, no honored name.

Yet the donkey heard what the prophet missed,
and saw the angel the seer dismissed.
He spoke the truth the man ignored,
yet knew the message was not born of him.

Held firmly there in Sovereignty’s hand,
he understood—he was not the plan.
An instrument, divinely sent,
aware of why—not self-important.

He never qualified himself
for that strange and sacred role.
All that was needed God supplied
to serve His glory, not his own.

So when I feel disqualified—
too small, too weak, too far outside—
when all I have is emptiness,
an offering no more than this—

It’s not what I can bring to Him—
no résumé, no perfect task.
It’s what He sovereignly gives to me
that fits me for the thing He asks.

Remember this story, old and true.
Let it gently work its way through you.
And leave us knowing, gratefully,
the story’s not the donkey—nor about you and me.