Jackassery
Welcome to the Deep Dive. Today we're jumping into something, uh, pretty unique. Imagine this, you've got this wanderer, right? He's on a donkey, clearly frustrated, actually yelling at his own brain.
Mm-hmm.
And if that wasn't weird enough, he's surrounded by these like lawless mercenaries. Maybe in a swamp.
It sounds totally fantastical. Yeah. Almost like something out of, well, Shrek maybe, or some old fable. It's a really striking image to kick things off. It really is, and it perfectly sets the mood for what we're diving into today, which is a series of, uh, personal memos. They're called the Angel Approach.
Memos or aams. Right. Specifically the jackass series. Within those memos. Yeah. And, uh, the author even gives these little hat tips to bail 'em and Shrek so. That tells you straight away, this isn't your standard stuffy reflection. Not at all. These are raw, unfiltered. Mm-hmm. Deeply personal, you know, the kind of stuff most people wouldn't write down, let alone share.
Exactly. And our mission today really is to unpack the narrator's journey. He, um, [00:01:00] he calls himself a jackass quite bluntly. Quite often he does. It's startlingly honest. And we wanna see how his grappling with that, with his own perceived flaws. His, uh, his jackass re actually reveals some really profound things about what stops us.
It stops all of us sometimes from loving the way Christ loved. So we're looking at the blockers mm-hmm. Through the lens of this. Yeah. Well, this self-proclaimed jackass. Yeah. We're gonna follow him through all this confusion, um, feelings of betrayal. This completely unexpected leadership role he gets pushed into, and eventually where it leads to redemption and that label jackass.
Mm. It's not just him being down on himself, is it? No, I don't think so. It feels more like radical honesty, like a level of self-awareness that actually becomes the starting point for change. It's not about pretending you're perfect, right? It's about owning the messy bits, the uh, the jackasses ring precisely that bluntness, that willingness to see it.
That's not the problem. It's actually maybe the key to unlocking the real obstacles. Okay, that [00:02:00] makes sense. But, Hmm. Is there a risk there? Could someone just say, oh, I'm just a jackass, and use it as an excuse not to change? That's a fair point. I think the difference here is that the narrator isn't stopping there.
His self-awareness isn't passive resignation. It's like the uncomfortable first step towards something else. It fuels the journey rather than ending it. Gotcha. Okay. So for you listening, if you ever felt, you know, lost or maybe misunderstood or just really frustrated with your own thoughts mm-hmm. Maybe even felt a bit like a, well a jackass yourself.
Mm-hmm. Then this deep dive is definitely for you. We're expecting to find some, uh, surprising wisdom in some very unexpected corners today. Absolutely. Let's get into it. Okay. So am one. Starts right there. The narrator says, I'm wandering riding on a donkey. From one village to the next. Yeah, just aimless wandering.
He wants to get somewhere clearly, but he has no clue where, or maybe even what he's looking for. He mentions wanting something so badly. I dare not ask or even think about it. Oof that line. [00:03:00] It's heavy, isn't it? That intense desire, but it's so buried, so unspoken. It just leads to. Paralysis. Inertia. Yeah.
Like he's pushing forward, but there's no actual direction, just movement. And that right there feels like a kind of internal jack assery. You know, this blind striving without clarity, it points straight to a potential blocker for loving like Christ. Not even knowing your own heart's deepest desire because you're afraid to name it.
Or maybe you don't think you deserve. It could be either or both. But if you don't know where your heart truly wants to go, how can you walk in love towards that or towards anything really. You're just wandering. Okay, so he is wandering, wanting something desperately, but silently, and then the donkey stops.
His ride just stops. Right. And his reaction, Insta, predictable maybe for him. Yeah. He gets frustrated, impatient, angry, and he just starts yelling at the mindless donkey. Mm-hmm. Blaming the animal. Classic deflection. It's his unfiltered bluntness. Yeah. But it's also a prime example of blocker One.
Self-reliance and [00:04:00] blame. Okay. Unpack that. Well, the impulse when things go wrong or get difficult is often to lash out, to blame something external. The donkey, the circumstances. Maybe even God. It's easier than looking inside. Much easier. It's easier to call the donkey mindless than to admit the mindlessness of your own journey, right?
But that reaction, that blame game, it totally short circuits a possibility of, you know, patient empathetic love, which is kind of the whole point, right? You can't love well if you're just yelling at everything. Exactly. True progress. Real love starts with looking inward, not just pointing fingers outward.
And then, okay, this is where it gets really wild. The donkey. Talks. Yep. The donkey speaks and not angrily either. It's described as a soft but hurt voice. Whoa. Okay, so the abused animal becomes the voice of reason, kind of seems that way. The donkey asks this incredibly simply, yet profound question. Why are you rushing about instead of stopping to ask for directions?
Ouch. Simple question. Deep [00:05:00] implications. Totally. It challenges his whole approach. This relentless motion isn't getting him anywhere. Maybe he needs to pause to reflect, to actually ask for help, but his response is so cynical, he just shoots back because nobody knows I've tried for years, right? It reveals this deep seated despair.
He's clearly been burned before. Maybe he asked the wrong people or maybe, maybe the way he was asking was the problem. Maybe he was too frustrated, too demanding to actually hear an answer. Even if it was given. Hmm. Or maybe he was asking humans when he needed a different kind of guidance altogether.
That's a really good point. His history is blinding him here and then the donkey drops the bombshell points down the road. Yeah. Points to an angel. An angel waiting to kill you. Whoa. Okay. So the donkey wasn't just stopping randomly, it was saving his life. Seems like it. And the narrator's reaction to this realization is just.
This flood of self-awareness. He feels asinine, disoriented, shallow, foolish, save, lucky to be alive. It's like the blinders are ripped off Uhhuh. He [00:06:00] finally sees how utterly lost and well asinine he's been. That moment is huge. It shows how often we can be completely oblivious to the real dangers. The real obstacles are even the divine help that's right there.
The angel. Yeah, sounds threatening initially, but it's really an intervention, a necessary uncomfortable wake up call. A course correction. Exactly, and this feeling of being saved Lucky forces him to confront his own Jack Assery, his foolishness, his anger, his blindness. It reminds me a bit actually of that passage in judges.
Judges 10 with Tola and Jer. Oh, that's a great connection. Yeah. Yahweh raises up these deliverers and J'S sons riding on 30 donkeys. Right, 30 donkeys. It's such a specific detail. It is. And maybe it underscores how God uses. The humble, the ordinary, the overlook, the asinine. You could say like our narrator's donkey here to bring about change, to wake people up.
It challenges our assumptions about where wisdom and help come from. It's [00:07:00] often not where we expect it. So the donkey saves him, he sees the angel, but is he instantly changed? Is the jackass read, gone? Not quite. That's what's so interesting about a AM two. The shock is there, but the old habits, they die hard.
So what happens? He's talking to the angel now. Yeah, he's pleading, but it says he's actually more angry than afraid. Can you believe that? Facing down an angel with a sword and he's angry. Wow, that's That's some deep seated defensiveness. Isn't it? He's still externalizing. He confronts the angel, even blames Yahweh for being frustratingly unclear at times.
Blaming God for his own confusion, still playing that blocker one card blame. Exactly. It's easier than admitting. Maybe I'm the one who can't see clearly, but the angel's response is fascinating. He doesn't get angry back. No, no. The angel laughs, but it's not like a mean laugh. It's described as carrying this deep, almost sad truth.
What's the truth? The angel says, Yahweh is always clear, always. The problem is your human minds are [00:08:00] twisted and broken. You cannot understand even the simplest truth. Oof. That's a heavy diagnosis, not just for him, but for, well, everyone. It feels pretty universal. Yeah. A fundamental flaw in our perception.
It's not the signal, it's the receiver that's broken and that explains the wandering. The angel tells him he's been wandering in circles instead of walking straight into the destiny, God promised, right. His internal state, his biases, his fears, his Jack Assery has literally kept him walking in circles completely blind to the actual path, which leads us right into the next blocker, doesn't it?
It does. Blocker. Two blindness to our own deception. The core idea being our own minds in their brokenness can actively lie to us, sabotage us. The angel even says it directly, right? With tears in his eyes. Yeah, it's powerful. Your own brain is lying to you so you cannot see it. Imagine hearing that the very thing you trust to understand the world is misleading.
You devastating. So what's the solution? Well, the angel solution is pretty drastic. I must kill [00:09:00] it to set you free. Kill his brain, metaphorically, one hopes, but it represents this need for a radical break from the old way of thinking, the deceptive patterns, and the narrator gets it. His reflection is brain damage, diluted, foolish, rescued from myself.
That growing self-awareness, that painful acceptance of his own delusion. That's the key. You can't love like Christ. You can't even see the path if you can't recognize how your own mind might be trapping you. So humility is the starting point, seeing your own Jack Assery. Absolutely. It's like trying to navigate with a broken compass.
You have to first admit the compass is broken before you can even think about finding true north. That makes sense. But how does the brain lie exactly? Is it always malicious or is it more subtle? Often it's subtle. It's our survival instincts, our desire for comfort, our tendency to filter out things that don't fit our narrative.
The brain wants to protect us, create a stable reality. But sometimes that stable reality is a cage precisely. It keeps us from seeing divine nudges, uncomfortable [00:10:00] truths, paths that feel risky. It defaults to the familiar rationalizes away challenges. It's like that cycle in Judges 10 again with the Israelites doing evil.
Getting oppressed, crying out, admitting guilt, right? That pattern of getting stuck, needing a major intervention to break free, the narrator needs this shocking confrontation with the angel to see his own pattern, his own need to be rescued for myself. Okay, so if you thought the talking donkey and the brain killing angel were weird.
Yeah. A am three takes it up a notch. Oh yeah. This is peak, whimsical absurdity. But with a real point, he realizes his brain is the problem. So what does he do? He literally throws it away and starts yelling at it. Huh? Can you picture it? This guy standing there having chucked his own brain onto the ground, just berating it.
It's so physical, so externalized. It's like a cartoon, but it's also kind of relatable. That feeling of being furious with your own thoughts. Totally relatable. It's the visceral frustration when you realize your own mind has been working against you, and the brain's defense is [00:11:00] just as compelling. What does the brain say?
It basically says, Hey. It's my job to keep you alive. Do you have any idea how dangerous Yahweh's plan was? I was protecting you. Ah, so it's the self-preservation instinct kicking in. Primal fear. Exactly. But taken to an extreme where it becomes. Well, the narrator calls it idolatrous, prioritizing safety above everything, even God's will.
And the brain is genuinely upset. It said it has a curse. Yeah, it cries out. And my curse is that I know where this leads. Like it foresees disaster if they follow God's path. And its job is to prevent that, even if it means disobedience, it's misguided protection. So the narrator feels. Uh, what? Yeah, just angry.
It's complicated. His reflections are fury, betrayed, sheltered, naive, pity idolatrous. He feels betrayed. Yeah. But also maybe p pity for the brain. Realizing he was trying to help. However wrongly. And that word idolatrous is key. Making an idol out of safety, out of the rational mind. Bingo. [00:12:00] Which leads us to blocker three.
Idolatry of self-preservation. The insight when our rational mind, our brain puts safety above God's call, it becomes a false God and that kind of self-love focused only on avoiding risk blocks, real love for God and others. Absolutely, because real love often requires risk, vulnerability. Facing danger. If your primary goal is just to stay safe, you can't truly love it.
Connects back to judges again, doesn't it? Yeah. The Israelites throwing away their false guns perfectly. Judges 10.1 teen, they toss the idols return to Yahweh, just like the narrator tossing his brain. This idol of self preservation. It signals a need for a new kind of leadership within him, but it's not simple, is it?
In AM four, he's still feeling conflicted. He's swearing because even though the brain misled him, it was sincere. It was heartbroken, right? It wasn't malicious. It was genuinely trying to protect him based on its limited fear-based perspective. That complexity is important. It's not just good heart versus bad brain.
It's more nuanced, and then. The donkey [00:13:00] steps in again, unbelievably, yes, the donkey, the one he yelled at earlier now offers comfort to the brain. No way. What does it say? Something like, it's okay. I get it. People think you were just being stubborn, but they'd react the same way if they could see what you saw.
Ow. Empathy from the most unexpected place. Grace, really, it's an incredible moment. The abuse, showing compassion to the source of the narrator's misguided actions. It highlights blocker four, lack of empathy for internal struggles. Naming meaning true Christlike. Love needs empathy, not just for others outward actions, but for the internal struggles, the brokenness within ourselves and others.
Understanding that flawed actions often come from sincere if misguided places like the brain's fear. That's deep. We need compassion for our own brains too, even when they mess up. Exactly. But this tender moment. It gets interrupted. Of course it does. By the angel. Yep. The angel awkwardly coughs. Like remember me and my job about that brain.
But before anything can [00:14:00] happen, trouble arrives. Big trouble. We are being surrounded by lawless mercenaries. Oh man. Just when he is dealing with internal chaos. External chaos shows up. Yeah. Talk about piling on. It's intense and totally mirrors how life feels sometimes, right? I agree. Solve one problem, another bigger one appears.
His reflection captures it. Pity, indignant, defensive, reactive, untrusting trapped, all those raw emotions flooding back and this connects to Jeff the. In Judges 11, it spot on. Judges 11 introduces, Jeff said the outcast, son of a prostitute who hangs out with, guess what? Lawless mercenaries, a gang of lawless mercenaries.
It mirrors the narrator's situation perfectly surrounded, trapped, facing this unexpected, dangerous group. It forces us to ask what false gods like that idolatry of safety do we cling to that end up leading us into more danger, more conflict. So am five. He's surrounded. Mercenaries is closing in. His brain is freaking out.
Donkey's confused, angel's looking grim. What does he do? He feels this crushing [00:15:00] weight. It's up to me, but it's not arrogance. Now it feels like resignation. Utter humility. He's hit rock bottom. All his usual strategies are useless. He's out of options. Yeah, the end of the line. Exactly, and that point of complete surrender, that's often where real change begins when you finally start relying on your own flawed resources.
So in this moment of vulnerability, what does he offer them? Does he try to fight? No, he offers basically nothing, or rather everything he has left, which feels like nothing. He says he's just a poor wanderer who can't even control his own brain. Wow. Brutal honesty. He even offers them. The donkey admitting I haven't treated him very well.
He says, I don't have the brain to try and I'm tired of fighting. It's complete vulnerability. Total surrender. His Jack Assery laid bare. He's basically saying, I'm incompetent. I'm exhausted. Take what you want. Pretty much it's this radical shedding of pride. Yeah. And it mirrors judges 11 again, where the elders have to swallow their pride to ask Jeffs to the outcast to lead them.[00:16:00]
Humility opens the door. And what do the mercenaries do? Attack him. Take the donkey. This is the kicker. The leader, this big mercenary guy with an Australian accent, apparently Ian accent. Okay. Right. He laughs. Then he tells the narrator what they want, which is it For you to lead us What? You're kidding?
Yeah. After that speech, after he just admitted complete incompetence, they want him Exactly. The narrator is understandably dismayed, resigned. Humbled alone, lost, flabbergasted. It's the last thing he expected. That's incredible. And it points to another blocker, doesn't it? Yeah. Our own feelings about ourselves.
Yes. Blocker five. Self-perceived incompetence. The core idea is that our own feelings of inadequacy are Jack asy often blind us. We think we're useless, unworthy to lead or help, especially when what's needed isn't skill, but something else. Something like heart. Precisely we feel impotent or heartless, so we disqualify ourselves.
But sometimes it's that very brokenness, that humbled state that makes [00:17:00] someone the right leader for a particular moment. It's not about self-reliance anymore. So am six. He's obviously sunned. Incredulous completely. He argues back, how can I lead? I can't even lead a donkey or follow an angel or trust my own brain to lead me.
He's listing his failures. The very definition of his Jack Assery and his brain tries to step in. Still thinking it's about strategy. Yep. The brain pipes up thinking it's what they need suggests maybe they need help fighting. It completely misunderstands the situation which highlights that other blocker misplaced value.
Exactly. Blocker six, misplaced value. We value the brain logic strength strategy over the heart. Vulnerability, compassion, connection. Especially in leadership, but the mercenary leader just laughs it off. What does he say? He says he thinks we want his brain to lead us into battle. Like that's absurd.
That's not what they need at all. So what do they need? This is the big reveal, isn't it? It is the mercenary leader. This tough warrior gets tears in his [00:18:00] eyes. Any whisper is the most profound thing. All we know is how to fight. We don't need your brain to make us better at what we've always done. We need your heart to show us how to stop fighting so we can go home.
Oh my goodness, we need your heart so we can go home. That's, that's devastatingly beautiful, isn't it? It cuts right through everything. These lawless mercenaries are. Lost souls who want peace, belonging, and they recognize instinctively that only heart can lead them There. Not more fighting, not more brain, and the narrator realizes what he feels.
Impotent, heartless, homeless, troubled, solemn, entrusted on holy ground. He recognizes his own heartlessness up to this point. The gravity of their request, the sacred trust being placed in him despite his flaws. It's like that moment in judges 11 again with jta. If they rejected at him, but now they say, you're the one we need, they make him commander.
It's a solemn, almost holy moment. Exactly. It shows that true leadership, the kind that heals and guides people home comes from the heart, from [00:19:00] shared vulnerability, not just from intellect or strength. It makes you ask, who do we look to? What do we value? Brains or heart. Okay. The journey's getting seriously intense.
Now AM is seven. His heart has been called and it responds dramatically. Oh yeah. It's like finally. My turn, the memo says, the heart literally jumps outta my chest and onto my sleeve. Wow. Like wearing his heart on his sleeve. Literally. Exactly. It ignores the brain, smiles at the donkey, bows to the angel.
It's this explosion of liberated emotion, pure feeling, ready to connect and lead. Total acceptance. No more hiding. Right. The heart says it's deeply honored and thrilled at the opportunity to lead you home. It's pure, selfless, love in action, ready to serve. There's always a but isn't there? There is. The heart then grows cold and delivers some incredibly hard news.
What does it say? It warns them, but there's a reason. I was locked away and you chose to fight. If you follow me, I will lead you to death. Whoa. Lead [00:20:00] them to death. That's not exactly inspiring leadership. It's brutally honest though, and the angel raises his sword confirming it. This path, the path of the heart, the path of true love and transformation.
It involves sacrifice, maybe even literal death, or at least a death to the old self. So following your heart is an easy street. Far from it, it demands courage, confrontation, maybe loss. The narrator feels it. He's disheartened yet proud of my heart, but also sorry for brain and afraid for those who follow.
That conflict is real. It links back to Jeff though again, right? Mm-hmm. In Judges 11, he immediately starts confronting the Ammonite king. Asking tough questions, challenging them. Exactly. Leading with heart means being willing to engage, to confront even when it's dangerous, even if it leads towards what looks like death.
So a M eight, the narrator is understandably terrified. He tries to warn his own heart off. Yeah, his cynicism kicks back in. He tells Hart you can't run around like that. Telling the truth. This is a hard cold [00:21:00] world. Ah. He thinks people hate the truth even more than lies, especially the ugly truth they've spent their lives avoiding.
That sounds like his jackass read. Trying to protect again. Fear disguised as realism. Totally. It's blocker seven, fear of the ugly truth. We avoid things that challenge our comfort, our self-image. We prefer denial. He thinks he's shielding heart shielding the mercenaries by urging caution, but heart doesn't back down.
No. Hart looks at him with sorrow and compassion and says, don't look. See. Ooh. Don't just observe passively really see, engage with reality. Exactly. It's a call to courage, to empathy, to face things head on. And the mercenaries reaction, it proves the narrator's cynicism wrong. They don't get angry. They don't reject the heart for speaking of death.
No. They start weeping tears of gladness and grief together. Gladness and grief. Why? Both. Maybe gladness at being seen at the authenticity, the vulnerability, grief for the cost, maybe for their own past, [00:22:00] but they connect with the heart's truth. They don't recoil from it. That's powerful. His cynicism was completely off base.
It was. And then the angel steps in again, reminds everyone of his role guiding them home, even if it means death and then turns to the narrator and ask for permission. Yeah, I need your permission, which just throws the narrator back into turmoil. His reflection threatened, insecure, cynical, bitter, jealous, cowardly, hope.
All those old feelings surge back. The jackass ery isn't fully gone. He still doesn't fully trust even now, right? It's like those negotiations in judges 11, Jeff, the laying out the whole history, defending his position. There are high stakes, deep arguments. The heart is entering that kind of battle now, which leads to AM nine and this.
Impossible choice. He's still suspicious of the angel. Deeply suspicious. He says, I'm not sure I trust you enough to grant a permission. I might later regret that's his Jack Astria again, mistrust, fear of being tricked, holding back, and that feels like another blocker. Definitely blocker. [00:23:00] Eight. Mistrust of the Divine Process.
We fear letting go. We fear what God might ask. If we surrender fully, we suspect there's a catch, a hidden cost. We won't like. So what's the choice? The angel presents. It's grim. The angel says the mercenaries hearts are corrupted. The only cure cut out their hearts, which will kill them. Kill them. But then what?
Then to give them new hearts, bring them back. There are two options. Option one, the narrator allows the angel to break your heart into pieces for them. Give his heart away. Broken into pieces. Yeah. Or option two, you cut up mine, meaning the angel's heart. Whoa. Sacrifice his own newly awakened heart or sacrifice the angel's heart.
Yeah. That's brutal. It's an agonizing moral dilemma, an ultimate test of trust and self-giving. And the mercenaries, they just gasp. They don't rebel, they don't even look away. Their trust is absolute. They're ready for whatever it takes to go home. Seems so, but the narrator, he's suspicious, torn, shamed, heartache.
Called out. He's completely wrecked by this choice. It's like [00:24:00] that moment in judges 11 where the ammonite king just ignores Jeff's arguments. Sometimes there's no easy way, no negotiation, only sacrifice. It makes you wonder, doesn't it? What impossible choices have we faced where love demanded something costly?
A AM 10. He's faced with this terrible choice, unhappily empowered, the memo says, that's such a great phrase. It really captures it, the weight of responsibility, but no joy in it. And then his heart speaks again. The final wisdom. What does it say? This time with tears in his eyes, but his smile is brighter than the sun.
Heart declares. Do you not know? Have you not heard that? A heart is never truly alive. Until you give it away. Wow. Just, wow. That's it. Isn't it the core of selfless love? Absolutely. It cuts right through the fear, the calculation. It confronts Blocker nine, holding back our hearts. We think we need to protect our hearts, keep them safe, but true life, true love means giving it away.
Even if it gets broken. Exactly. That's the radical truth. And the narrator finally gets it. He feels [00:25:00] selfish, heartbroken. Shamed. He sees his own tendency to hoard his heart to protect himself. Above all, this connects to Jeff the again too, right? Huh? Judges 11.29 When the spirit empowers him right before he makes that devastating vow.
Yes. Empowerment often comes right alongside the demand for sacrifice. They're intertwined. Giving away. The heart is the empowerment in a way. So am 11. The sacrifice happens. He chooses his own heart, it seems so he watches with self-loathing. As the angel breaks his heart, he feels too weak to choose the other option to sacrifice the angel.
It's another moment where his jackass ery. His perceived weakness and failure feels immense. He loathes himself for not being stronger, for not saving his own heart. It seems like it, but then something incredible happens. The brain, the one he threw away and yelled at, what does the brain do? It falls to its knees.
Confesses, I was the one that should have died. My death would've been for my own sins. I was afraid of seeing the face of God. Whoa. What a [00:26:00] confession. The ultimate reason for its self preservation tactics wasn't just physical safety. No, it was blocker 10. The fear of seeing God and ourselves, the terror of judgment, of being fully exposed, found wanting that deep existential fear.
That fear kept it locked in its patterns, trying to control everything. Avoiding God. Exactly. Our Jack Assery, our defenses often mask that deep fear of divine scrutiny, of seeing ourselves as we truly are. The brain's confession is this moment of profound, painful honesty. It finally understands itself and then the miracle happens.
Yeah. The mercenaries, yes. The angel pierces their hearts with the broken pieces. They die and then they're brought back to life with pieces of my heart resurrection through shared broken heartedness. Beautifully put, they gather around the narrator to honor my sacrifice. There's connection, shared life where there is death and division, but even then, his reflection is complex, wretched, disgust, heartless, empty, astonished, unal alone, still feeling [00:27:00] wretched and empty, even as he's honored and unal alone.
Yeah, the pain of the sacrifice is real. The feeling of being heartless is literal now, but astonishment and connection are there too. It's not simple. It mirrors judges. 11.3 2 33 Yahweh gives Jeff the victory, a great slaughter here. The victory is spiritual, resurrection, but still born from a kind of death.
And just when you think it can't get more intense, he looks up the donkey, pulls his gaze upward, and he sees Jesus. Riding on the clouds shining like the sun. Okay. AM 12. He sees Jesus the ultimate payoff, right? End of story. You'd think so, but remember this is our narrator. His Jack Assery is persistent.
What does he do? Fall down and worship. Nope. He's aggrieved. He actually confronts Jesus. Confronts Jesus. What does he say? He basically says, where were you? If you had been here? My heart wouldn't have died. My brain wouldn't have messed me up. Why send an angel to kill me? Why didn't you just come yourself?
Wow, that's bold, right? Even after everything, he's still questioning, still feeling hard [00:28:00] done by. It's incredible, isn't it? It perfectly illustrates blocker 11, resentment and self-pity. Mm-hmm. Even in redemption. We can have these profound encounters, experience grace, and still feel like, well, it could have been easier, or, why me?
So how does Jesus respond? Annoyed, judgmental, not at all. Jesus responds with total empathy. He embraces the narrator weeping over me. Like a long lost friend, he explains my heart was also torn to shreds for you. Sharing in the suffering. Mm-hmm. Validating the pain. Exactly. And he explains that intervening earlier would've kept the narrator a child instead of becoming my friend.
The struggle was necessary for growth, for relationship. That's a huge reframe. The hardship wasn't punishment, it was pathway to friendship. Precisely. And then Jesus delivers the core message, the key insight of this whole jackass journey. He points to the mercenaries now called gracious emissaries. Yeah.
And says, and you would never have had the courage to come to me had you not first seen a jackass. [00:29:00] You could identify it with. Oh my goodness. That's the point. Yeah. His Jack Assery wasn't just a flaw to overcome. It was the bridge, the relatable brokenness that allowed others to approach God. Exactly.
Radical vulnerability, shared imperfection becomes the pathway not flawless. Virtue the narrator finally gets it, falls down, asks forgiveness. Jesus breathes on him, calls him friend, and says the real payoff is still coming. He feels befriended. Scent chosen, honored, understood, understanding, redeemed. What a transformation.
It's beautiful though. It's a different path than Jeff does tragic ending with his daughter. In Judges 11, it still echoes that theme of costly vows leading to a profound outcome. Here it's friendship with God. So am 13. Yeah. The final memo. What's the final payoff? Well, the gracious emissaries, the transformed mercenaries are ready, ready to cross the river into the promised land to share the hope and freedom we have discovered together.
Awesome. And the narrator goes with them, right? Leading the charge. Ah, see, that's what he [00:30:00] expects. But no, he finds out he can't go with them. What? Why not after everything, he's grievously appended as his Jack Assery flares up one last time, he confronts Jesus again. I know I am a jackass, but they carry my heart.
Why can't I go with them? He feels left out cheated. That feeling of unfairness again, that narrow view of what the reward should look like exactly, which is blocker 12 narrow view of mission. We think blessing or purpose looks only one way. We wanna be with the group doing the visible thing, but Jesus clarifies, yes, he gently explains this is not a punishment but a reward.
They will carry your heart into all the land. His sacrifice, his essence will spread far and wide through them. Okay, so his impact continues, but what's his role now? This is the beautiful twist. Jesus says, the narrator now with his reconciled brain, finally at peace, working with him, not against him, gets a different mission, which is you will stay with me as we [00:31:00] find other jackasses hungry to be redeemed, and together we will fill the earth with the glory of God.
Wow. His reward isn't crossing the river. It's staying with Jesus to find more people like his former self. Mm-hmm. People who need to see a relatable jackass to find their way exactly a mission rooted in his own journey, his own identity, radical empathy. As a divine calling, it reframes everything. His final feelings, complete, seen, honored, friendship, purpose, unity.
Peace from aimless wanderer to finding purpose right beside Jesus, seeking out the lost. That's incredible. It really is, and it's such a contrast to judges 12, where the ephraimites get offended about not being included, leading to division and that whole awful shibboleth test. Jesus offers unity, shared purpose, finding the outsiders, not creating more division.
Wow. Okay. Just processing all of that. What an absolutely wild ride. It really is. We started with this image of a guy yelling at a donkey. Yeah, totally lost, completely frustrated, identifying as a jackass, and we followed him through seeing [00:32:00] angels throwing away his brain, facing mercenary, sacrificing his heart to ending up as a friend of Jesus with this unique, beautiful mission.
The Jack Assery itself, the impatience, the blame, the fear, the cynicism, the self-loathing. It wasn't just an obstacle, it was somehow. The path, the raw material for transformation, his willingness to be blunt about it, to not hide it. That was the key, I think. So that unfiltered honesty cracked him open. It allowed the donkey's wisdom in it revealed the mercenaries true need for heart, not brain.
And it ultimately led him to a place where sacrifice made sense, where friendship with Christ became possible and the whole whimsical Shrek like vibe of it all. Mm-hmm. Talking donkeys, weeping brains. It shows that spiritual truth isn't always wrapped in solem. Not at all. Sometimes it's absurd, messy, funny, and profound all at once.
Like life itself really, God meets us in unexpected, even comical ways. So for you listening, yeah. What does this journey spark in you thinking about the Jack Assery in [00:33:00] your own life? Yeah. Those moments of frustration, those times, your brain feels like it's lying to you to keep you safe. Times you felt lost, unworthy, maybe even.
Yeah, like a jackass. Are there ugly truths you've been avoiding? Is there some internal jack assery that might actually be a doorway, not just a dead end? Mm-hmm. What if those parts of you aren't just things to be ashamed of, but things God wants to meet you in and maybe here's something to really chew on.
Jesus actively sought out this narrator because he was a jackass others could identify with. Right. What does that tell us about God's love, about who God uses? Uh, how we find our way to him and help others find theirs, maybe. Maybe the path to loving like Christ isn't about achieving perfection. Maybe it's about radically accepting our own messy, beautiful Jack Assery and letting that be redeemed, letting that relatable brokenness become the very thing that connects us to God and to others who are just trying to find their way home.
Perhaps embracing our inner jackass is the most Christ-like thing we can do. [00:34:00] That's a thought worth pondering.