The Wisdom of Dawn Key

A man, a donkey, and a serious misunderstanding about who was being stubborn.

Let us call her Dawn Key. Balaam’s donkey was female, and she deserves a name. She had carried him faithfully for years, knew his ways, and probably knew more of his business than he would have liked.

Then came the morning of the important journey. A king named Balak was frightened of Israel. He wanted Balaam to come and curse them, and he was prepared to pay well for the service. God had already told Balaam that these people were blessed. Balak wanted them cursed anyway. That ought to tell you something about how this trip was going to go.

Eventually, Balaam set out with permission to go, but with a firm instruction: he could say only what God told him. Along the way, an angel of the Lord stood in the road with a drawn sword. Dawn saw him. Balaam did not.

Dawn had never attended a school of prophecy, but she understood enough about swords to know that walking into one was a poor travel plan. She turned into a field. Balaam beat her and steered her back onto the road.

Farther along, the angel stood between two vineyard walls. Dawn squeezed aside, pressing Balaam’s foot against the stone. That earned her another beating. Finally, they reached a place so narrow that she could neither turn nor squeeze past. She lay down. Balaam lost his temper and struck her again.

Then God enabled the donkey to speak. Dawn asked what she had done to deserve three beatings.

Now, I believe I would have paused right there. I might have forgotten about my foot. I would certainly have had several questions concerning the donkey. Balaam, however, answered her. He was so angry about being made to look foolish that he entered into an argument with his transportation.

He told her that if he had a sword, he would kill her. There was already a sword nearby. Dawn was trying very hard to keep him from meeting it.

She reminded him that she was the same donkey he had ridden for years. Had she ever behaved this way before? He admitted she had not. Then the Lord opened Balaam’s eyes, and suddenly the view from the donkey’s back looked quite different. There stood the angel, sword in hand. Balaam fell facedown.

The angel demanded to know why he had beaten her. Three times she had turned aside. If she had kept going, Balaam would have died, and the donkey would have lived. The animal he had punished for delaying him had been keeping him alive.

I hope he apologized. Personally, I think she had earned the rest of the day off.

Balaam continued his journey with the warning ringing in his ears: speak only what God tells you. When he reached Balak, the king took him up to look over Israel. Balaam blessed them. Balak was furious. He had ordered a curse.

So the king tried another location. Apparently, he thought God might give a different answer from another hill. Another blessing. They tried again, and still another blessing followed. Three times Dawn had tried to stop Balaam on the road. Three times Balak tried to get a curse out of a blessing. Dawn had a better grasp of when to stop.

But the story leaves us with something more serious than a talking donkey. Balaam could deliver God’s words, yet the later Scriptures describe his greed and his part in leading Israel into sin. That troubles me. A man can say the right thing and still want the wrong thing.

A king can ask what God says while hoping to hear only what he has already decided. And I can become so certain about where I am going that I get angry at anything that slows me down.

That is where Dawn Key gets my attention. Before I complain about the interruption, I ought to ask the Lord whether there is something I need to see. On that road, the donkey saw what Balaam could not. And when she finally spoke, the man had plenty to say.

He needed to listen.