H. Michael Brewer
Crescent Springs Presbyterian
4 April 2004
WHERE IS YOUR COLT?
Luke 19:28-38
We all know God can do anything. God is the almighty and the everlasting, the Most High. God is
self-sufficient. God sits above the circle of the earth, and its inhabitants are like grasshoppers. “To
whom will you compare me?” asks the Holy One. Who is my equal?” (Isaiah 40:25 NLT).
As I said, God can do anything. I think it’s safe to assume that God doesn’t need our help. God
doesn’t need our help. So it’s odd then that Jesus keeps asking for our help.
For instance, when Jesus brings Lazarus back from the dead, first he asks the bystanders to lend a
hand by rolling back the stone that guards the tomb. I don’t know about you, but I think if I were
getting ready to raise someone from the dead, I’d go the whole nine yards and roll back the stone,
too.
When Jesus decides to feed the five thousand in the wilderness, he enlists the help of a little boy
who shares his sack lunch with the Lord.
When the time draws near to celebrate the Passover with his disciples, Jesus asks the help of a
local family who lend the Lord an upper room for the meal.
Later that same night, the night of his arrest, Jesus goes to a garden to pray, but he doesn’t go
alone. He takes the disciples along, and he keeps Peter, James, and John near at hand because he
wants human company. He says, “I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here and stay awake
with me,” (Matthew 26:38 NRSV).
Only a few hours later, Jesus is carrying his cross to the place of execution, but he is too tired and
broken to make it all the way under his own strength. He collapses under the weight and has to rely
on a stranger to carry his cross the rest of the way.
And when Jesus dies, he has to borrow a tomb.
Jesus is God in our midst, the visible image of the invisible God, but he doesn’t seem to be shy
about asking for help. Does Jesus need our help? I don’t know how to answer that, but I do know
that Jesus wants our help. Jesus continually invites our help. The story that comes to mind today, the
story we read this morning, shows Jesus once more asking for help.
When Jesus prepares to enter Jerusalem, he sends two of his disciples into town with odd
instructions. “Go to the village ahead of you, and as you enter it, you will find a colt tied there, which
no one has ever ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ tell
him, ‘The Lord needs it,’” (Luke 19:30-31).
“The Lord needs it.” Jesus could have walked into Jerusalem, of course. But if he’s going to
present himself as the Prince of Peace, if he’s going to invoke Zechariah’s Old Testament prophecy
of Israel’s king riding into town on a donkey, then he’s going to need this colt.
“If anyone asks you why you’re untying the animal, just say to them, ‘The Lord needs it.’”
What about you? Is there a colt tied up in your backyard? I’m willing to bet there is. I’ll bet you
have something the Lord can use. Maybe it’s a colt that’s never been ridden. Maybe you have a gift
or a talent or a possession or a knack that’s never been put to proper use. And the Lord needs it.
Your Lord has a use for your colt—whatever it is. Jesus can use your gift of gab, your car, your
tender heart, your schooling, your hobby, your sense of humor, your way with words, your knack for
listening, your green thumb, your scars, your insight, your love for books, your music, your
compassion, your citizenship, your youth or your maturity, your computer skills, your oven, your
energy, your retirement, your praying, your words, your sewing machine, your table saw, your paint
brush.
You don’t think so? You don’t think your Lord can use what you have to offer? God can use
anything. Remember the story of Moses meeting God at the burning bush? God has big plans for
Moses, but Moses has his doubts. Moses keeps telling God all the things he doesn’t have: he doesn’t
have any credentials, he doesn’t have any clout with the Israelites, he doesn’t have any authority with
Pharaoh, he doesn’t have the gift of oratory, and so on. In the middle of all this, God says, “What do
you have in your hand?”
“This?” Moses asks. “This is just a stick.”
“I can use that,” God says. “I’ll use that stick to confound the magicians of Pharaoh’s court. I’ll
use that stick to turn the Nile River into blood. I’ll use that stick to part the Red Sea and to bring forth
streams of water from a rock. If all you’ve got to offer me is a stick, then that’s what I’ll use to rescue
my people from Egypt.”
I read about a woman who got the point of that story. This was fifteen or twenty years ago. This
woman heard a speaker one day in church, a speaker from South Africa describing the pain of
apartheid dividing black and white in his homeland. As she listened to one story after another, the
woman had a deep conviction that she ought to do something to help, but what? She couldn’t go to
South Africa. She was a poor woman without any money to donate. But this sense of calling wouldn’t
go away.
The woman knew the story of Moses at the burning bush, and she prayed, “Lord, what do I have
in my hand that could help your children in Africa?” After the sermon, the ushers passed the plates for
a love offering to help in the struggle to end apartheid, and as the plates worked their way to the rear,
the woman stared at her empty hands and suddenly knew what she had to give. She leaned over to
her husband and whispered something. He looked at her for a moment, and then he nodded. When
the plates were passed down their pew, the woman and her husband took off their wedding rings and
gave them into the offering.
On that Palm Sunday there were a lot of people giving Jesus lip service, and then there was the
man who gave Jesus his donkey. Which do you suppose pleased Jesus more? I don’t expect to find
any wedding rings in the offering plates this morning, but I’ll bet you’ve got a colt tied in the back
yard. I’ll bet you’ve got a stick propped in the corner. I’ll bet you’ve got something in your hand or
your heart or your life. I’ll bet you’ve got something to give. And I’ll bet the Lord can use it.
Soli Deo Gloria!