Buttercup Wasn't Yellow

Everybody should try it…once. You get two teams of generally athletic people, take them to a basketball court, place them on the backs of donkeys, pitch a ball into the mix, and have them compete in a basketball game. While I was teaching high school, I was part of this grand experience…donkey basketball. Those two words, “donkey” and “basketball” seem to fit together very poorly. I have news for you: the words don’t clash nearly as much as the actual event.
Before we went out to play, we signed a waiver for a long list on possible injuries (including death), donned helmets, and were told, “If you are thrown, get up fast. The donkey will try to stomp you.” I thought, “What kind of animals are we facing here?” Like some reluctant gladiators of old, we were lined up, and the donkeys were brought in. Small, soft, lazy-looking donkeys. I thought it to be a joke, until the second half. I had done so well on my donkey for the first half that the “donkey coach” came over and said that he would be giving me “Buttercup.” (To name this donkey “Buttercup,” I discovered, would be analogous to tagging a Great White with the title of “Pooky” or “Snookums.”)
Buttercup seemed calm enough, until the second-half whistle blew. The first time I was thrown, I fractured my finger. The next time, good Buttercup pitched me over her head into a complete flip. The last time she threw me, it was headlong into the table with the scoreboard equipment on it. The metal legs of the table managed to catch one of my shoulders and stop me cold. It’s a humbling experience to crawl across a hardwood floor from under a table, holding your ribs, trying to catch your breath, making slow progress back toward a creature looking at you with a resolute eye, knowing that you pose no threat no matter how many you may breathe.
No matter what I did, I could not wear this donkey down. She simply persevered without fear. Too stubborn to give up, this soft little creature had inside an I-beam of steel.

Makes one think of endurance…

The bible speaks of those who endured hardship (Heb. 12), and how we are to “run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith” (Heb. 12:1b-2a). The word used for “endurance” in this passage literally means, “a remaining under.” The pressure is there, the trials are present, yet we are to remain resolute, stubbornly holding in place despite the storms that rage. I’d like to be more Buttercup-like, calmly facing the second half of the game with the confidence that no matter what happens, I can endure it. But sometimes it seems so hard. Of course, the key for that attitude is the second part of the passage from Hebrews above: “looking unto Jesus.” He is the ultimate example of patience, endurance and perseverance, and I can never hope to last without Him.
As I look to Him, I can be, by His power, calm and resolute under the pressure, even if it takes a long while for the trial to pass.
All of this came to mind recently as I read a passage written by John Killinger retelling a story from The Atlantic Monthly about the breaking of horses to lead in the early days of the West…
“A little burro sometimes would be harnessed to a wild steed. Bucking and raging…the two would be turned loose like Laurel and Hardy to proceed out onto the desert range. They could be seen disappearing over the horizon, the great steed dragging that little burro along and throwing him about like a bag of cream puffs. They might be gone for days, but eventually they would come back. The little burro would be seen first, trotting back across the horizon, leading the submissive steed in tow. Somewhere out there on the rim of the world, that steed would become exhausted from trying to get rid of the burro, and in that moment, the burro would take mastery and become the leader…The battle is to the determined, not to the outraged; to the committed, not to those who are merely dramatic.”
I pray that I would be so determined when harnessed to the trial.
Dustin C. George
Minister to Single Adults
www.sevierheights.org