Bestial Stupor

I have been reading through Soren Kierkegaard’s exploration of Abraham’s faith in  “The Kierkegaard Collection”.

His description:

“People commonly travel around the world to see rivers and mountains, new stars, birds of rare plumage, queerly deformed fishes, ridiculous breeds of men — they abandon themselves to the bestial stupor which gapes at existence, and they think they have seen something.” ~ Soren Kierkegaard

I have never thought of the myriads of social media accounts chronicling something “astonishing” as feeding my bestial stupor.

That might be a little harsh.  However, I am reminded of my own bestial nature of gaping at the creation without ever considering that which is truly amazing…faith.

“But if I knew where there was such a knight of faith, I would make a pilgrimage to him on foot, for this prodigy interests me absolutely. I would not let go of him for an instant, every moment I would watch to see how he managed to make the movements, I would regard myself as secured for life, and would divide my time between looking at him and practicing the exercises myself, and thus would spend all my time admiring him.” ~ Soren Kierkegaard

Photo by Maria Pop on Pexels.com

There are “knights of faith” living amongst, which are testimony of what is more miraculous than any of God’s other creation.  That is worthy of a pilgrimage to see; a pilgrimage to gape into the infinite.  However, you have to know what you are looking for because a true knight is easy to overlook.

“He lives as carefree as a ne’er-do-well and yet he buys up the acceptable time at the dearest price, for he does not do the least thing except by virtue of the absurd. And yet, and yet I could become furious over it — for envy, if for no other reason — because the man has made and every instant is making the movements of infinity. With infinite resignation he has drained the cup of life’s profound sadness, he knows the bliss of the infinite, he senses the pain of renouncing everything, the dearest things he possesses in the world, and yet finiteness tastes to him just as good as to one who never knew anything higher, for his continuance in the finite did not bear a trace of the cowed and fearful spirit produced by the process of training; and yet he has this sense of security in enjoying it, as though the finite life were the surest thing of all.” ~ Soren Kierkegaard

We once called a pilgrimage to observe and learn from a Knight of Faith, discipleship.  Unfortunately, we don’t hear that term very often and even rarely take that sort of pilgrimage.  We have social media after all.

We have allowed a bestial stupor to blind us to the truly remarkable; exchanged the creator for the creation.

Let’s open our eyes to what makes angels rejoice.  Look around, there might just be a Knight sitting beside you worthy of amazement… worthy of imitation.

“The Kierkegaard Collection” is free: http://a.co/6alGyrH

BAD LITTLE DONKEY – April 15

“But he said to him, “Be not like a horse or a mule, without understanding, which must be curbed with bit and bridle, or it will not stay near you.” Psalm 32:10

 Snort was a present for my wife that I bought at a 4-H fundraising auction. Before you reach the obvious conclusion that the gift of a miniature donkey makes me a hopeless romantic, I will confess to an ulterior motive. I bought Snort for one particular joke.  A joke that necessitated, Snort being my wife’s donkey.  While I and all the other 12 year olds out there might find my joke hilarious, the Devoted Life editor (my wife) felt that it might not be very appropriate.  This is probably one of those situations where it is good for a man to be married.  Suffice to say, my joke cost me $200 but I enjoyed it immensely.

However, my joke lost its appeal as it became more evident that Snort was my donkey. I would let Snort out of his corral and he would follow me around like a dog. If I dug a hole, Snort would put his head in it. If I was trimming shrubs, Snort would work his way between me and the bush. When I was petting the dog or cat, he would chase them away and rub up against me until I scratched between his ears.  He would even try to sit on my lap.

It had become obvious that Snort was my little donkey, which ruined my joke. However, it had also became obvious that Snort was a bad little donkey.

Snort had turned into an escape artist. He had learned how to open his pen, despite the measures we took. I would be standing by the kitchen window and suddenly a donkey would go prancing through our yard, nose stuck up into the sky in defiance. Snort was out…again.

Snort amused himself by nuzzling up against me while I was kneeling down to work or sitting in chair reading a book. He found great delight in nibbling my baseball cap and then running off with it. It was cute the first couple of times but then it got annoying as I was spending more and more time battling Snort for my hat.

However, Snort’s disobedience was becoming more than a simple annoyance. He was becoming a danger to himself and others. Once, he escaped from his corral and was able to get into our neighbor’s pasture with several mules. Those mules ran Snort relentlessly. My wife just happened to notice him in the pasture when she was driving home. By the time she got him out of the pasture, he was exhausted and bloodied, having been run into barbed wire fence in several areas.

On another occasion, he had gotten himself into the middle of our neighbor’s freshly planted wheat field. We called and called him but he refused to listen. Finally, my kids and I had to chase him across a corrugated field, stumbling and falling, as that nasty little donkey refused to go back home.

The worst manifestation of his defiance was the kick he had integrated into his prance of independence. He would run by with his nose in the air and give a little side-ways kick with his rear leg. Even though he was a little donkey, that kick could cause some real injury.

My joke had run its course; it was time to train Snort.

Since I had neither the time nor the knowledge, we gave Snort to a friend who had both. Snort’s world changed abruptly. He was disciplined and trained to go where his master directed him. He was forced to do tasks over and over again until he did them willingly. He was made into something more than a joke.

There are not very many useful things for a miniature donkey. Yet, Snort has been the star in several Christmas and Easter plays and has been the ambassador in a multitude of parades. He did all of those events with only a halter because he had been trained.

I wonder how many times I have been like an untrained Snort. A little donkey prancing around in defiance to my Master’s wishes; refusing to be led away from a destructive environment; being a danger to myself and those around me; being a joke.

God did not save us for his amusement. He did not send His own Son to redeem us for the purposes of a joke. He saved us for a purpose. The Westminster Shorter Catechism summarizes nicely the chief purpose of man; Man’s chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever.

The reality is that we have to be trained to this purpose. That will often require a bit and bridle to drive the rebellious Snort out of us. However, we have something that Snort does not have. We have the gift of understanding. Let’s use our understanding to cooperate with God’s purpose in our lives so that the bit and bridle are not necessary.

May we be like the horses in this video that come running when our Master cracks the whip.

PRAYER: Father, forgive me for too often living without the understanding  you have given me.  Thank you for those time when you have turned my rebellious head for my own good.  Lord, continue to train me in your righteousness; teach me how I can glorify you and enjoy you in all that I do. Sanctify my heart so that I will hear your voice and come with a cheerful heart, without the need for a bit or bridle.  I pray this in the precious name of your Son, Jesus Christ. Amen