A Perfect Trainer: The Miracle of the Donkey

From LDS Media Library

When I was young, I was obsessed with horses. I read every equestrian story I could get my hands on, loving every one of the horses introduced in them.

But there's one aspect of the stories that I always thought was portrayed a little unrealistically—a romanticized version of the truth. A good majority of them always told of an inexperienced horse rider who sees their dream horse and their heart flutters. Suddenly there's nothing that rider would rather do than get on that horse. Then, in almost every story, they are somehow able to train the horse through sheer emotional connection.

It's a beautiful story that any girl could fall in love with. But it's just a fantasy, right? No one would really feel such an immediate connection to a horse, or be able to get on its back with little to no effort. Right?

Turns out, there's an equestrian story just like this, based on true events, right in the New Testament. I never would have realized it without my professor pointing it out to me this past week. But it's right there, in Mark 11:1–10.

This is the story of Christ riding into Jerusalem on a donkey (it's not a horse, but it's close enough to illustrate my point). Not only was this a donkey that he had never ridden before, it was a colt—one that no one had ridden before. So Christ asks that his disciples go and get an unbroken colt so that he can ride it into Jerusalem.

If I were the apostles, I would be wondering what his plan was. How was Christ going to be able to ride into Jerusalem on a colt that had no training on carrying a man on its back? This is where my professor pointed out that the very fact that Jesus made it to Jerusalem on that donkey was a miracle. He should not have been able to ride that colt without at least a little while of training.

But then, that's not even the end of the miracle. What happens when Christ enters Jerusalem is just as astounding.

8 And a very great multitude spread their garments in the way; others cut down branches from the trees, and strawed them in the way. 

 9 And the multitudes that went before, and that followed, cried, saying, Hosanna to the Son of David. . . . (Matthew 21)

So now, this poor colt, with a weight on his back he's never felt before, is walking into a huge crowd of people yelling, waving sticks at him, and putting clothes on the ground in front of him. He must have been terrified! And yet, there's never any mention of the colt freezing, bolting, or showing any other sign of fear. For the man on his back was no ordinary man.

The man on his back was his Savior. And as long as Christ had the reigns, the colt had nothing to fear.

I am the colt in this story. I am new and inexperienced when it comes to eternal things. There are moments in my life when I feel overwhelmed with everything that is going on around me, and it makes me want to freeze in my tracks.

But as long as I let Christ have the reigns in my own life, I know that I will be able to make it to Jerusalem, to the temple, and to God with no need to fear. He will lead me there, because he is the perfect trainer. 

The Sinner, the Accuser, and the Savior

Image from LDS Media

How often do we find ourselves looking down on someone for their sins? How many times have we ourselves been looked down upon? We've each been, at one time or another, either the sinner or the accuser in our own lives.

Studying the story of the adulteress woman in John 8 (watch the Bible Videos version for a powerful take on it), I noticed that this story exemplifies Christ's role as mediator between those who are accused and those who do the accusing.

In this story, the Pharisees rudely push a woman in front of Christ and present the question, "This woman was taken in adultery, in the very act. Now Moses in the law commanded us, that such should be stoned: but what sayest thou?" (John 8:4–5).

If we had been there that day, where would we most likely be looking? A crowd has just come barging in, dragging a woman and accusing her of one of the three greatest sins (Alma 39:3–5). Not only is the accusation condemning, but the Pharisees had caught her "in the very act." She probably is not looking like someone who expected to be out in public. And by the time they got her to the temple, she would have been a mess. So again, where are everyone's eyes likely to be?

Directly on her.

What shame she must have felt. She must have sensed everyone's eyes boring into her as she hid her face from their stares.

But the very first thing that Christ does to answer the Pharisee's question shows his deep understanding and love for her: "Jesus stooped down, and with his finger wrote on the ground" (John 8:6). Again imagining that we are there, what is Christ doing to our attention in that moment? We are staring at the woman, when suddenly, our gaze is caught by his movement. All eyes would have been drawn to his finger, all thoughts focused on his writing.

No longer would the crowd be concentrated on the woman and her sin, staring at her with condemning or sorrowful eyes. He pulls everyone's attention away from the sinner and onto Him.

This is symbolic of what Christ does for all of us. We are all sinners to one degree or another, and we all have the opportunity to "go, and sin no more" (John 8:11). Through the Atonement, Christ has taken upon himself our sin. And because of the Atonement, we will no longer have to feel the shame that comes from our past mistakes.

But in this story, Christ doesn't just stop there. Not only did he stoop down and draw all attention onto him, but when he stood back up, he continued to teach. The first words out of his mouth were, "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her" (John 8:7). This is the second lesson of the Atonement that we can find in this story. For Christ's role is to not only to take upon himself our sins, but also to encourage us to repent. With this invitation, Christ turns the attention of everyone in the crowd back onto themselves. 

All eyes started on the sinner but were drawn to the Savior and then were commanded to turn to themselves and their own lives. For that's what the Atonement is about. We can't experience the full saving power unless we stop judging others and change ourselves.

We've all made mistakes. We've all sinned. Maybe today, it's the adulteress woman in the middle, but what if it were you? For it could be you, couldn't it? Isn't that what Christ is saying here? That we all stand no higher than this woman? So why do we judge her?

Truly, none of us would be able to cast that first stone. 

To Work an Hour, or All Day?

Photo by Trent Erwin on Unsplash

The parable of the laborers in the vineyard has always been a confusing one for me. If I had worked all day on a project and then someone came in at the very end, just to help with the finishing touches, I would not be happy to find out they were getting payed the same as me. I mean, who did most of the work? I did. Shouldn't I deserve more than the guy who only gave an hour of his time?

Sure enough I'm not the only one who thinks this way. In fact, that's exactly what happened in the parable Christ gives in Matthew 20:1–15. It starts with an owner of a vineyard going out in the morning to find workers. He agrees with them that their wage for the day will be a penny—the normal wage for that time. These workers agree, relieved that they have found work to keep food on the table.

Then, the vineyard owner goes out again, sees that there are still people looking for work, and decides to hire them as well. He doesn't tell them how much they will be paid, but the laborers go anyway because anything was better than nothing. He does that three more times, even going out with just one more hour before the working day is over:

6 And about the eleventh hour he went out, and found others standing idle, and saith unto them, Why stand ye here all the day idle?

7 They say unto him, Because no man hath hired us. He saith unto them, Go ye also into the vineyard; and whatsoever is right, that shall ye receive.

I'm sure these men didn't even hope to get a third of a days wage. But even an hour's wage might give them enough to feed their children dinner.

The fact that every laborer receives the same wage—a full day's—that's what seemed unfair to me. Until this past week. It was only then that I finally understood what Elder Holland spoke about five years ago in his talk "The Laborers in the Vineyard,"

What I didn't realize before was the context of the times. It was common that each family only got by from day to day, and if they didn't find work one day, they didn't know where their next meal would  come from.

With this in mind, those first workers would have been relieved when they were chosen to labor in the vineyard. They got to go the whole day knowing that their family's next few meals were paid for.

Those that were hired at the very last, they spent the whole day worrying and stressing about how they were going to take care of their family. What would they say at the end of the day when they come home with nothing? They probably did everything they could to try and find work, but no one wanted them. And so they were left idle, with no hope.

So really, who was suffering more? Sure the first laborers had to bear "the burden and heat of the day," but their suffering was only physical. They at least had peace of mind. But the last laborers, their suffering was pure mental anxiety. They had no direction, no purpose to their day.

No wonder the owner of the vineyard had so much mercy on them. He felt their suffering and was willing to give them an equal share of hope. And that's what the true Master of the Vineyard does with all of us. No matter when we come with a desire to serve Him, He will hire us, and He will reward us with the same reward: eternal life.

We are all laborers, looking for a way to provide hope to our families. And no matter when we do discover Christ and His work, we will all be accepted with equal love.