Timidity Versus Temerity

By Audrey Stallsmith

The Old Testament Balaam is a baffling figure—and not only because of his talking donkey! This “prophet” apparently had some familiarity with the Israelite God despite not being an Israelite himself.

Since all the people in the world at that time apparently were descendants of Noah, though, they all must have had knowledge of the true God originally. However, it appears that most had strayed from him--especially the Canaanites, who harked back to the rebellious Ham.

Because the Moabites traced their lineage to Abraham’s nephew Lot, God had warned the Israelites not to bother them. So their king, Balak, actually had nothing to fear from the approaching hordes. He was so terrified, however, that he sent for Balaam, who apparently had a reputation as a sorcerer. That warlock, we can say, represented temerity whereas his client represented timidity. 

Balaam lived near Haran, where Abraham had dwelt before moving south, and could have been a descendant of Eber even if he wasn’t a descendant of Abraham. And he does refer to “the Lord, my God,” at one point. If Balaam was a baru (Mesopotamian diviner), though, it was part of his job to have knowledge of all the gods, so he could consult whichever one proved necessary.

As all but Jehovah existed only in lifeless images of wood, metal, or stone, we can guess that there usually was some vagueness  involved in Balaam’s supposed negotiations. In fact, a baru often “read” the livers of sacrificed animals or his own dreams to get his predictions, as a more modern fortune teller might consult tea leaves. So Balaam probably was more than a little taken aback when the Israeli God actually responded to him, so clearly that he couldn’t pretend to misread the message.

No doubt a bit chagrined too. Here, he had been looking forward to a huge fee from the desperate Balak, and the Israeli Jehovah wouldn’t allow him to accept the commission. This proves that you shouldn’t call on God unless you actually want Him to show up! 

We can guess that Balaam was too intimidated by this too-real deity to defy His orders. But, when Balak wouldn’t take no for an answer and sent promises of even greater rewards, Balaam apparently wouldn’t take no for an answer from God either.

Like more modern psychics, Balaam may have had confidence in his ability to talk anybody into anything and didn’t quite realize the extent of the Power with which he was dealing. Although God finally allowed him to go, it apparently was only to teach the avaricious prophet a lesson—and to bless Israel in the process. 

Balaam’s donkey proved to be smarter than her master, since she knew better than to try to push on when God—or at least God’s messenger—was blocking the way. So when Balaam wouldn’t allow her to veer off his perilous path anymore, she simply lay down and refused to move, no matter how much he flogged her. 

Humiliated by how ridiculous she was making him look and eager to be on his way to gain and glory, Balaam apparently was so angry at that point that he didn’t quite realize that he was carrying on a two-way conversation with his beast of burden. And she was winning the argument!

Frederick Whitfield suggests that the donkey in Christians’ lives is the circumstances which should be carrying us forward but which suddenly seem to go awry instead. Rather than realizing that we are attempting to force our way past the will of God, we keep trying to make that donkey work.

I don’t think we always can conclude that obstructions are from God, since evil will try to attack us when we are in the right way. But we do need to take both possibilities into account because we often are too hasty to conclude that what we want must be what God wants. Or that we have talked Him round to our way of thinking when He only is letting us continue down the wrong road because we refuse to be stopped.

You would think this incident would have taught Balaam his lesson, but apparently it didn’t. Although he wasn’t allowed to curse Israel, he eventually tried to do an end run around God’s will by advising Balak to corrupt the invaders instead. Although I couldn’t find any indication of what happened to that king, Balaam would be killed by those whom he had so grudgingly blessed.     

His problem was, the Bible tell us, that he “loved the wages of unrighteousness” too much to give them up. In other words, he couldn’t see beyond what was best for Balaam because he didn’t care about anything else. 

Our pastor tells us of a witch doctor he knew in Haiti who always intended to switch to God’s side eventually. Apparently, he also knew what was right, but was making too much money from wrong. In his case, it took his being infected with AIDs to convince him to repent. 

Proving that God is a God of second chances. By making Balaam’s donkey talk, he spared the sorcerer’s life and even gave him the biggest scoop of his life, as far as messages from the beyond went. His prediction of a “Star out of Jacob and a Scepter out of Israel” must be one of the earliest Messianic prophecies. 

But Balaam still had the temerity to take sides against the Israelites even when he knew what kind of God was looking out for them. Therefore, the man who wasn’t even smart enough to listen to a talking donkey eventually would pay for his presumption.

We can conclude that our courage must come somewhere between Balaam and Balak’s. We should avoid pushing ahead when we sense that God is barring the way. But we also must avoid falling into fearfulness as Balak did. He had good reason for his terror, because he knew that his gods were outgunned. 

But we have the same God looking out for us as the Israelites did. So, like them, we  should attempt to keep an eye on that pillar of cloud up ahead, march when God says march and stop when He says stop—and trust him to take care of the rest.