I Prefer the Dumb Donkey

“I prefer the dumb donkey." Said Cardmel

"Whitney, you should write a substack about this."

This was a statement made during one of our monthly counselling sessions.

Every month, Naomi, Cardmel, and I meet to evaluate our month. We update each other on our lives, speak about our aspirations, our doubts, our dreams, and our fears. We challenge each other, encourage each other, and sometimes accidentally expose areas of pride that we would rather keep hidden.

And somehow, after pouring our hearts out for hours, we came to a very strange conclusion:

We prefer the dumb donkey.

Please oo before anybody gets offended, no, I am not calling my friends donkeys.

What I mean is this: one of the greatest gifts God has given me is godly friendship. Not because my friends always encourage me or tell me what I want to hear, but because they often see things that I cannot.

For some reason, humans crave leadership. We are always looking for the next leader, the next person to follow, the next person to admire. We assume wisdom must come packaged in status.

You see it everywhere, even within Christian circles.

The title ‘Pastor’ is no longer enough. Now we need ‘Apostle’.

Prophet is no longer enough. Now we need "Seer of Nation"

The bigger the title, the wiser we assume the person is.

As a result, many of us dismiss the wisdom spoken by ordinary people, especially our friends. Familiarity blurs our vision. We know their flaws. We know their weaknesses. We know the mistakes they have made. And because of that, pride quietly begins asking questions like:

"Who are you to tell me that?"

There have been many instances where I have ignored the words of a friend because I felt like I knew more or because their advice felt too simple for a situation that I considered incredibly complex. Sometimes I genuinely believed they could not understand me.

Looking back, there were times I wasn't ignoring my friends.

I was ignoring God.

We see this perfectly illustrated in the story of Balaam.

Balaam was not an Israelite, yet he clearly had a relationship with God. He heard God's voice. He received revelation. He prophesied. By every visible standard, Balaam was the spiritual one in the story.

Yet when Peter reflects on Balaam's actions, he says something fascinating:

"A dumb donkey speaking with a man's voice restrained the madness of the prophet." 2 Peter 2:16

So much power in one sentence. The more I read it the more the irony reveals itself.

A dumb donkey.

A prophet.

Peter intentionally keeps Balaam's title visible. He does not simply say Balaam. He says the prophet.

The title remains.

The irony becomes even greater.

The very man who should have been able to see beyond human sight was unable to perceive what a speechless animal could see.

The donkey saw the angel.

The prophet did not.

The gifted man was blind, while the animal had discernment.

A dumb donkey restrained the madness of the prophet.

The part that really fascinates me is that when the donkey spoke. Balaam simply replied. There was no amazement, no questions or concern. He simply carries on the conversation. He was so blinded by desire that the absurd no longer seemed absurd.

And if we are honest, many of us have experienced our own version of that madness.

Not necessarily because of greed.

But because of pride.

Because we become so convinced that we are right, so convinced that we see clearly, that we dismiss the people God places in our lives to challenge us.

To slow us down.

To warn us.

To save us from ourselves.

I am not calling our friends donkeys. But sometimes when they tell us something we don’t want to hear, we treat them like they are.

Wisdom is not always where we expect it to be.

God speaks in strange ways.

The Spirit of God is not confined to the people we have decided are spiritual.

There are things God has shown my friends that He has not yet shown me. Lessons they have learnt that I am still learning. Mistakes they have already made that I am about to make. There are aspects of God they reflect that I don’t yet fully understand.

How dare I commonise them?

How dare I assume God only speaks through specific people?

The beauty of godly friendship is learning that the Holy Spirit in someone else may see something that you cannot.

You do not know it all.

Neither do I.

A dumb donkey restrained the madness of the prophet.

If God can use a donkey to reveal truth, surely He can use the people sitting around me.

I have learnt so much simply by observing my friends. Watching how they handle situations. Watching how they speak. Watching how they carry themselves. Watching their faith in seasons where mine was weak.

Some of the greatest wisdom I have ever received did not come from a pulpit.

It came from a conversation.

Godly friendship is not simply about finding people who love God.

It is about surrounding yourself with people who have made themselves available to God. People who have become vessels.

And then having enough humility to receive what God may be saying through them.

Friendship is one of the most beautiful gifts God has ever given me.

Real godly friendship is uncomfortable.

It challenges you to become a better Christian.

It highlights the good in you whilst exposing the bad.

In many ways, friendship itself is a form of pruning.

I have been blessed with some incredibly wise people. People who have restrained my own madness more times than I would like to admit. People who challenged me when pride convinced me I knew better. People who loved me enough to tell me the truth, even when I did not want to hear it.

Some of the clearest moments I have experienced with God have come through my friends.

I have heard Him through their mouths more times than I can count.

They may not always say things beautifully.

But they often say them truthfully.

It is easy to admire the polished Christians. The articulate Christians. The ones who seem to have all the right spiritual language.

The ones who say words like “peradventure”.

But sometimes God speaks through the friend who says "bruv" every other sentence and refers to Christianity as "the God thing.”

And I find that beautiful.

Because in the eyes of God, we are all somebody.

We are all capable of being vessels.

We are all capable of carrying wisdom.

And that is why I prefer the dumb donkey.

Because I refuse to put God in a box.

I refuse to believe He only speaks through microphones, pulpits, platforms, and titles.

Sometimes He speaks through a prophet.

Sometimes He speaks through a donkey.

And sometimes He speaks through a friend sitting across from you, telling you exactly what you do not want to hear.

The question is not whether God is speaking.

The question is whether pride has made us deaf.

That is why I prefer the dumb donkey.