Every Palm Sunday, I am drawn to consider the donkey colt that carried our King. I wrote this story last year and it still makes me weepy…
I am continually captivated by the donkey colt that Jesus rode into Jerusalem. I share this fascination with many other, far-better writers than me, including (but certainly not limited to) GK Chesterton in “The Donkey” (https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47918/the-donkey) and Mary Oliver in “The Poet Thinks About the Donkey” (https://www.instagram.com/p/CcKwgBjs4tU/). Let’s not forget the adorable children’s book by R.C. Sproul, The Donkey that Carried a King (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8AieQexQmhA).
A desire for originality has prevented me from writing my own tribute to this donkey colt. If every writer waited for total originality, though, very little would be written at all, and that which was written would be isolated—unintelligible and irrelevant. So, instead of trying to be original, I’ll be traditional, joining the company of saints and authors who pondered the donkey that carried our King.
The White Horse
I imagine that the donkey who carried Jesus had stubby legs…
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