The dust settles along the highland ridges of Moab around 1400 b.c. as a man cinches a leather saddle onto his beast. He packs his bags with the promise of wealth equalling decades of a laborer's wages. A quiet morning opens the journey. The air smells of dry earth and crushed vines. He mounts his burden-bearer and sets out along the winding dirt roads toward the high places. The rider holds the reins tightly. He intends to speak words over a migrating nation camped in the valley below. The morning sun bakes the stones framing the vineyards.
The Lord often places obstructions along a seemingly clear road. He positions his messenger holding a drawn blade in the middle of the thoroughfare. The Creator halts the traveler not with a loud decree from the clouds but through the sudden refusal of an ordinary animal. The beast veers off the beaten trail into a plowed field. The rider beats the animal with a heavy wooden staff. He demands forward movement. He fails to see the divine roadblock stationed directly in his way. The beast presses her rough coat against a stone boundary wall and traps the rider's foot against the jagged rocks. The sharp pain of bruised bone and torn skin halts his progress. The King of Heaven uses the stubborn weight of an animal to save a man from riding into his own destruction.
We often load our own saddles with heavy ambitions and pull the bridle toward a desired destination. We spur our plans forward. We expect the road to open wide before us. When the terrain suddenly shifts into a narrow rocky passage, we strike at the very things carrying us. We blame the slow beast or the uneven stones for our delay. We fail to recognize how a sudden swerve into a ditch preserves us from an unseen ruin. The Maker pulls the reins of our lives through the resistance of our circumstances. A closed gate or a stubborn refusal from a trusted companion often resembles rebellion. It usually reveals a protective barrier. We blind ourselves to the danger ahead by focusing entirely on the silver waiting at the end of the journey. We whip our circumstances. We demand progress through tight alleys leaving no room to turn right or left. We forget that the tightest constraints often harbor the most profound rescues.
The wooden staff splinters against a divine barricade. The rider swings his stick in blind frustration while the animal collapses under his weight. The impact of the staff creates a hollow thud against the ribs of the beast. The sudden vocal vibrations of the donkey pierce the heavy afternoon heat. The physical sound of an animal speaking her grievances forces the rider to drop his weapons and open his eyes to the towering figure blocking his path.
The safest journeys often require a bruised foot and a humbled stride. We stare at the sharp rocks lining our narrow paths and recognize the intentional grace stationed along the road.