Jesus Chose Pookie
A few years ago, Austin and I stood at the base of an ancient mountain in Petra, waiting to be assigned mules to take us to the top. We had agreed that we would name the mules based on their appearance and had taken name submissions from friends and family. If the mules were big and beautiful like horses, they would be Gabriel and Michael. If they were scrawny and silly-looking like donkeys, they would be Pookie and Spud.
Our guides led Austin’s mule out first. A glossy, proud-looking animal. Gabriel.
Then my ride stumbled out, looking ragged and sad. Alas, Pookie. Poor Pookie had no evidence of horse DNA; he was all donkey. Austin grinned mischievously from his Prince Charming steed while I hoisted myself onto the least dignified animal I had ever seen. I would not have chosen this creature as my ride up the mountain. Or anywhere, really.
I was reminded of Pookie recently as my children and I admired some horses in a nearby field. A little donkey was grazing with them, looking like a joke with its squat legs and long ears that came barely to the horses’ knees. There’s Pookie, I thought. And then something strange occurred to me: Jesus chose Pookie.
In KCC’s recent Exodus series, we have heard a lot about God’s glory and his holiness, and rightly so. We have witnessed his mighty acts of justice and salvation. We have watched the ancient Israelites shaking with fear at the very thought of entering his presence. And yet, Zechariah 9:9 foretells God’s son’s coming like this:
Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion!
Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem!
Behold, your king is coming to you;
righteous and having salvation is he,
humble and mounted on a donkey,
on a colt, the foal of a donkey.
Here, Jesus not only chose Pookie; he chose Baby Pookie. In Luke’s story of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, he specifies that Jesus requested a colt “on which no one had ever sat” (Luke 19:30). So not only did Jesus choose Baby Pookie; he chose Amateur Baby Pookie. In a symbolic sense, it was an honor to be the first to ride a new donkey. In a practical sense, it seems like it would have been risky to ride an animal with no training and no muscles. Nevertheless, this humblest-of-the-humble creature is the one God chose to help his Son inaugurate his kingdom on earth.
Anyone else wondering what our glorious, holy, mighty God is doing on the back of a donkey?
It wasn’t unheard-of for kings in the ancient Near East to ride donkeys. If the kings rode for war, they rode chargers, but if they rode for peace, they rode donkeys. Jesus’ choice to ride a donkey into Jerusalem both declared his kingship and identified it as a reign that would bring peace- not necessarily peace among people (Matthew 10:34), but peace between people and God (Ephesians 2:14). His choice also showed us something important about God’s character: for all God’s awesomeness and infinitude, he possesses a tender heart. This is consistent throughout scripture: in the Old Testament, God describes himself as “merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness” (Exodus 34:6). In the New Testament, Jesus describes himself as “gentle and lowly in heart” (Matthew 11:29). What a God. Possessing every power and every right to bend us to his will and punish us if we fail to meet his standards, but choosing instead to bear with us, drawing near to us so gently that even children feel safe and cherished in his presence (Mark 10:14-16).
So this Advent, when you hear the familiar refrain of the angels singing, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!” (Luke 2:14), I hope Pookie comes to mind. May you be struck with fresh awe for the God who is so glorious that hosts of angels praise him eternally, and yet so gentle that he announces his kingship from the back of a young, inexperienced donkey. Glory to the all-powerful peacemaker who came not to be served, but to serve (Matthew 20:28)! This is a God worth waiting for- at Advent, and always.
Scripture for meditation:
Mark 11:1-10
Philippians 2:1-11