For rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft, and stubbornness is as iniquity and idolatry. Because thou hast rejected the word of the LORD, he hath also rejected thee from being king (1 Samuel 15:23, KJV).

ABSTRACT

The divine Plan of Redemption is actualized or obstructed within the believer’s life through the spiritual orientation of the heart in mundane, daily choices, as supremely illustrated by the antithetical morning rituals of the patriarch Abraham and the prophet Balaam, whose identical outward acts of saddling donkeys revealed fundamentally opposed internal realities of covenantal love and covenantal betrayal.

WHAT CAN TWO ANCIENT DONKEYS TEACH US NOW?

I watch the sunrise from my kitchen window, the steam of my coffee mimicking the morning mist, and I am haunted by a question that feels both ancient and urgently personal: does God see the difference between my dutiful rise and Abraham’s faithful one? We inhabit a world saturated with spiritual performance, where the external gesture often receives the applause, yet scripture rips back the curtain to reveal a starker, more beautiful, and more terrifying truth. The narrative of redemption turns not on the grand, public spectacle but on the private orientation of the heart in life’s most mundane moments, a truth crystallized in the bizarre parallel between two men saddling donkeys at dawn. The Genesis and Numbers accounts provide not merely biographical details but a divine case study in comparative spirituality, leveraging identical physical acts to illuminate antithetical spiritual states. This juxtaposition serves as the master key for our investigation, demanding we move beyond superficial moralism into the deep geology of motive where salvation is actually forged. “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?” (Jeremiah 17:9). “For the LORD seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the LORD looketh on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7). “I the LORD search the heart, I try the reins, even to give every man according to his ways, and according to the fruit of his doings” (Jeremiah 17:10). “Every way of a man is right in his own eyes: but the LORD pondereth the hearts” (Proverbs 21:2). “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also” (Matthew 6:21). “But thou, O LORD, knowest me: thou hast seen me, and tried mine heart toward thee” (Jeremiah 12:3). These verses converge like a spotlight on the internal arena, establishing the incontrovertible principle that divine judgment operates in a dimension invisible to human courts. Ellen G. White amplifies this foundational truth, writing, “It is the heart that must be renewed. ‘Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.’ Psalm 51:10” (Messages to Young People, p. 71, 1892). She warns us against the deception of outward form, stating, “A religion of mere outward propriety, a life in which the heart is not surrendered to God, is as a lamp without oil” (Testimonies for the Church, Vol. 5, p. 254, 1889). The prophetic insight cuts deeper, connecting motive to our very standing: “Those who are destitute of sympathy, tenderness, and love cannot rightly represent the principles of the law of God” (Testimonies for the Church, Vol. 5, p. 167, 1889). In a sweeping vision of the cosmic conflict, she notes, “The law of love being the foundation of the government of God, the happiness of all intelligent beings depends upon their perfect accord with its great principles of righteousness” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 34, 1890). She specifically addresses the Balaam archetype: “He was continually making confession of his sins, yet he continued to sin on. He had not true repentance” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 153, 1890). Finally, she provides the corrective lens: “Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves” (The Adventist Home, p. 179, 1952). The startling clarity we gain is that the Plan of Redemption is fundamentally a heart-transplant procedure, initiated by divine grace but requiring our daily consent in the smallest of actions, a reality that makes my morning routine a theological event of the highest order. If the heart’s hidden intent is the true metric of all action, how then does the specific contrast between Abraham’s obedience and Balaam’s disobedience graphically illustrate the fatal gap between knowing God’s will and loving it? The answer lies not in the saddles they fastened but in the destinations their hearts had already chosen, a lesson that turns our gaze from their hands to the hidden springs of their volition.

IS OUR HASTE TRUE ZEAL OR SECRET REBELLION?

We mistake frenzy for faithfulness, and urgency for zeal, a confusion that Balaam’s story exposes with surgical precision. His narrative presents a man spiritually schizophrenic, caught between the terrifying clarity of God’s directive will and the magnetic pull of worldly prestige, his morning haste serving as the physical symptom of a heart in violent conflict with divine authority. The text paints his actions with a stark, hurried brush, allowing us to feel the frantic energy of a soul trying to outrun conviction, a performance of obedience that lacked the substance of surrender. “And Balaam rose up in the morning, and saddled his ass, and went with the princes of Moab” (Numbers 22:21). “But God said unto Balaam, Thou shalt not go with them; thou shalt not curse the people: for they are blessed” (Numbers 22:12). “And God came unto Balaam at night, and said unto him, If the men come to call thee, rise up, and go with them; but yet the word which I shall say unto thee, that shalt thou do” (Numbers 22:20). “Which have forsaken the right way, and are gone astray, following the way of Balaam the son of Bosor, who loved the wages of unrighteousness” (2 Peter 2:15). “Woe unto them! for they have gone in the way of Cain, and ran greedily after the error of Balaam for reward, and perished in the gainsaying of Core” (Jude 1:11). “For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows” (1 Timothy 6:10). These scriptures diagnose his condition not as ignorance but as a willful preference for the permissible over the perfect, a choice to treat God’s reluctant concession as a blank check for his avarice. The inspired pen eviscerates any remaining ambiguity about his spiritual state. “Balaam ‘loved the wages of unrighteousness.’ 2 Peter 2:15. The sin of covetousness, which God declares to be idolatry, had made him a timeserver, and through this one fault Satan gained entire control of him” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 439, 1890). She describes his fatal compromise: “He was continually making confession of his sins, yet he continued to sin on. He had not true repentance” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 153, 1890). The prophetic analysis reveals the mechanics of his downfall: “The messenger of God stood as an adversary against Balaam, because Balaam’s way was perverse before Him” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 441, 1890). She connects his example to a perpetual danger: “So sinners, while pretending to be the servants of God, follow the lead of Satan, and are actuated by his power” (The Spirit of Prophecy, Vol. 1, p. 298, 1870). A profound warning follows: “A religion of mere outward propriety, a life in which the heart is not surrendered to God, is as a lamp without oil” (Testimonies for the Church, Vol. 5, p. 254, 1889). She concludes with the core principle: “Obedience—the service and allegiance of love—is the true sign of discipleship” (Steps to Christ, p. 60, 1892). Balaam’s saddled donkey, therefore, becomes an icon of prescribed religion devoid of relational love, a journey undertaken not toward God but toward the bargaining table where divine gifts are traded for personal gain. This portrait forces me to audit my own spiritual haste, to question whether my busyness in ministry is propelled by a hunger for divine communion or a hunger for human recognition. But if Balaam’s haste reveals rebellious calculation, what specific quality in Abraham’s deliberate actions unveils the anatomy of true, faith-filled obedience? The contrast is not in speed but in spirit, a deliberate pacing that syncopated with the rhythm of trust rather than the pulse of profit.

CAN AGONY BECOME AN ACT OF WORSHIP?

Abraham’s response to the unthinkable command offers not a model of blind fatalism but a breathtaking paradigm of trust that transforms execution into exaltation, a journey where every step, including the saddling of the donkey, became an act of deliberate, agonizing, yet confident worship. His morning ritual, described with a chillingly methodical cadence, stands in absolute contrast to Balaam’s frenzy, revealing a heart so aligned with God’s character that even the suspension of God’s promise could not shake his confidence in God’s goodness. “And Abraham rose up early in the morning, and saddled his ass, and took two of his young men with him, and Isaac his son, and clave the wood for the burnt offering, and rose up, and went unto the place of which God had told him” (Genesis 22:3). “And Abraham said unto his young men, Abide ye here with the ass; and I and the lad will go yonder and worship, and come again to you” (Genesis 22:5). “By faith Abraham, when he was tried, offered up Isaac: and he that had received the promises offered up his only begotten son” (Hebrews 11:17). “Accounting that God was able to raise him up, even from the dead; from whence also he received him in a figure” (Hebrews 11:19). “And being fully persuaded that, what he had promised, he was able also to perform” (Romans 4:21). “He staggered not at the promise of God through unbelief; but was strong in faith, giving glory to God” (Romans 4:20). These passages unveil a faith that engaged reason to its limit and then leaped beyond it, a faith that trusted the Promise-Giver over the tangible promise, a posture that turned Moriah into a sanctuary before the altar was even built. Through inspired counsel we are told the depth of this scene. “This terrible ordeal was imposed upon Abraham that he might see the day of Christ, and realize the great love of God for the world, so great that to raise it from its degradation, He gave His only-begotten Son to die a most ignominious death” (The Youth’s Instructor, p. 17, 1896). She captures his thought process: “Abraham believed that Isaac was the son of promise. He also believed that God meant just what He said when He commanded him to go offer him as a burnt offering” (Testimonies for the Church, Vol. 4, p. 144, 1876). The obedience is framed as love: “The sacrifice required of Abraham was not alone for his own good, nor merely for the benefit of succeeding generations; but it was also for the instruction of the sinless intelligences of heaven and of other worlds” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 155, 1890). She highlights the quality of his faith: “It was a faith that relied upon God, against reason, against sight, against feeling” (Selected Messages, Book 1, p. 337, 1958). The lesson for us is drawn clearly: “The trial was of the most severe kind; but Abraham did not hesitate to obey. He did not stop to question how God’s promises could be fulfilled if Isaac were slain” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 152, 1890). She summarizes the victory: “Abraham’s test was the most severe that could come to a human being” (The Desire of Ages, p. 468, 1898). Abraham’s saddled donkey, therefore, carried not the tools of negotiation but the instruments of surrender, moving toward a confrontation with death that faith alone could interpret as a pathway to life. His example indicts my own conditional obedience, my tendency to haggle with God over lesser sacrifices, and it invites me into a relationship where trust dispels terror. Given that both men performed the same initial act, what deeper symbolic significance does the donkey itself hold within the spiritual conflict between sight and blindness? This humble beast becomes the canvas upon which God paints a lesson about perception that humbles the mighty and elevates the lowly.

WHY SEE MORE THAN YOUR MASTER SEES?

The donkey, that humble beast of burden, erupts into the center of Balaam’s narrative as an unlikely theological protagonist, a divine mouthpiece whose physical sight exposes the prophet’s spiritual blindness and serves as a devastating critique of a spirituality divorced from submission. This surreal episode transcends mere miracle, functioning as a parabolic drama where the order of creation is momentarily inverted to shame the pinnacle of creation, illustrating that spiritual perception is a gift granted to the humble and withheld from the arrogantly knowledgeable. “And the ass saw the angel of the LORD standing in the way, and his sword drawn in his hand: and the ass turned aside out of the way, and went into the field: and Balaam smote the ass, to turn her into the way” (Numbers 22:23). “And the LORD opened the mouth of the ass, and she said unto Balaam, What have I done unto thee, that thou hast smitten me these three times?” (Numbers 22:28). “Then the LORD opened the eyes of Balaam, and he saw the angel of the LORD standing in the way, and his sword drawn in his hand: and he bowed down his head, and fell flat on his face” (Numbers 22:31). “The hearing ear, and the seeing eye, the LORD hath made even both of them” (Proverbs 20:12). “And I will bring the blind by a way that they knew not; I will lead them in paths that they have not known: I will make darkness light before them, and crooked things straight. These things will I do unto them, and not forsake them” (Isaiah 42:16). “For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God. For it is written, He taketh the wise in their own craftiness” (1 Corinthians 3:19). The scripture establishes that true sight is a divine grant, often given to the lowly to confound the mighty, and that our capacity to perceive God’s intervening presence is directly correlated to our willingness to be led. In Patriarchs and Prophets we find a masterful exposition of this scene. “The angel of the Lord stood in a narrow path, with a wall on either side. The beast, seeing the divine messenger, crowded against the wall, crushing Balaam’s foot” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 441, 1890). She explains the divine purpose: “God would not permit Balaam to curse Israel; and when, notwithstanding His forbiddings, the prophet persisted in his journey, the angel of the Lord was sent to withstand him” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 440, 1890). The irony is highlighted: “The beast, guided by a superior intelligence, sought to save her master, but he, blinded by passion, understood not” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 441, 1890). She draws the universal lesson: “How many are as blind as was Balaam! How many grieve the Spirit of God by their rebelliousness, and yet flatter themselves that they are zealously serving Him!” (Testimonies for the Church, Vol. 4, p. 231, 1876). The condition for sight is made plain: “Humility and a willingness to learn are the first steps in the path of wisdom” (Prophets and Kings, p. 260, 1917). She warns against Balaam’s final state: “He had gained a knowledge of the divine will, but he did not conform his life to it” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 439, 1890). The dumb beast, therefore, becomes a symbol of the faithful remnant, often despised and pressed into service by worldly powers, yet granted clearer vision of coming judgment than the acclaimed spiritual leaders who beat them for their caution. This narrative asks me which role I am playing: the beast that sees and halts, or the rider who, in my presumed expertise, charges forward into divine judgment? If spiritual blindness is the fruit of unyielded pride, what is the tangible expression of the sight that comes from surrendered love, and how does it manifest in our relationship with a suffering world? The answer flows from a heart calibrated to divine love, a force that reorders all our priorities and affections.

HOW DOES LOVE BOTH BLOCK AND PROVIDE?

God’s love operates not as a blanket endorsement but as a refining fire, manifesting in the blocked path for Balaam as much as in the provided ram for Abraham, proving that divine love is an active, interfering commitment to our ultimate holiness rather than our immediate comfort. This love forms the gravitational center of the Plan of Redemption, pulling both the rebellious and the faithful toward its transformative purpose, demanding from us not the emotion of affection but the concrete choice of allegiance that realigns our will with the eternal law of self-sacrificing service. “The LORD hath appeared of old unto me, saying, Yea, I have loved thee with an everlasting love: therefore with lovingkindness have I drawn thee” (Jeremiah 31:3). “We love him, because he first loved us” (1 John 4:19). “But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). “Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins” (1 John 4:10). “And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us” (Romans 5:5). “The LORD thy God in the midst of thee is mighty; he will save, he will rejoice over thee with joy; he will rest in his love, he will joy over thee with singing” (Zephaniah 3:17). Biblical love is thus defined by costly action, an initiating, pursuing, and sanctifying force that seeks our restoration to the image of God. The prophetic messenger roots everything in this dynamic love. “God is love. 1 John 4:16. His nature, His law, is love. It ever has been; it ever will be” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 33, 1890). She explains its operational principle: “The law of love being the foundation of the government of God, the happiness of all intelligent beings depends upon their perfect accord with its great principles of righteousness” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 34, 1890). This love necessitates freedom: “He takes no pleasure in a forced obedience; and to all He grants freedom of will, that they may render Him voluntary service” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 34, 1890). She connects it to the atonement: “The cross of Calvary appeals to every heart, to every intellect, to every human being who will give attention to the wonderful love of God” (Testimonies for the Church, Vol. 5, p. 633, 1889). The result in the believer is described: “When we are clothed with the righteousness of Christ, we shall have no relish for sin; for Christ will be working with us” (Selected Messages, Book 1, p. 394, 1958). She summarizes the exchange: “It was through love that God gave his Son for our redemption; and it is through love that Christ has made known the Father to us” (The Signs of the Times, p. 24, 1895). Therefore, the angel’s sword blocking Balaam’s path was an act of severe love, a last-ditch effort to save him from himself, while the ram in the thicket was the consummating love that rewarded Abraham’s trust, together painting a complete picture of a love that both confronts and provides. This understanding shatters any transactional view of my faith, teaching me that God’s love is the constant, and my obedience is the grateful, voluntary echo. If God’s love is the foundation of His government and the motive for His interventions, what specific responsibilities does this love impose upon me in my direct relationship with Him? The demand is total, a surrender that engages every facet of my being in responsive devotion.

WHAT DOES GOD REQUIRE FROM MY HEART?

My responsibility toward God, forged in the furnace of His prior love, is nothing less than the total, joyful surrender of my will, a daily offering that transforms duty into delight and legalism into loving allegiance, mirroring Abraham’s ascent rather than Balaam’s negotiation. This responsibility transcends checklist morality, demanding a heart-work of humility, justice, and mercy that acknowledges my absolute dependence and His absolute ownership of my donkey, my Isaac, and my very breath. “And now, Israel, what doth the LORD thy God require of thee, but to fear the LORD thy God, to walk in all his ways, and to love him, and to serve the LORD thy God with all thy heart and with all thy soul” (Deuteronomy 10:12). “He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the LORD require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?” (Micah 6:8). “Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man” (Ecclesiastes 12:13). “And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength: this is the first commandment” (Mark 12:30). “I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service” (Romans 12:1). “But this thing commanded I them, saying, Obey my voice, and I will be your God, and ye shall be my people: and walk ye in all the ways that I have commanded you, that it may be well unto you” (Jeremiah 7:23). The requirement is comprehensive, engaging the entire being in a responsive love that manifests in concrete obedience. The inspired pen articulates this seamless connection between love and duty. “Obedience—the service and allegiance of love—is the true sign of discipleship. Thus the Scripture says, ‘This is the love of God, that we keep His commandments.’ 1 John 5:3” (Steps to Christ, p. 60, 1892). She clarifies the mechanism: “Instead of releasing man from obedience, it is faith, and faith only, that makes us partakers of the grace of Christ, which enables us to render obedience” (Steps to Christ, p. 60-61, 1892). She warns against Balaam’s error: “The so-called faith in Christ which professes to release men from the obligation of obedience to God, is not faith, but presumption” (Steps to Christ, p. 61, 1892). The inward transformation is stressed: “A profession of faith and the possession of faith are two different things. The mere knowledge of truth is not enough” (Christ’s Object Lessons, p. 312, 1900). She defines the core action: “The surrender of all our powers to God greatly simplifies the problem of life” (The Ministry of Healing, p. 473, 1905). Finally, she describes the result: “When we are clothed with the righteousness of Christ, we shall have no relish for sin; for Christ will be working with us” (Selected Messages, Book 1, p. 394, 1958). My responsibility, therefore, is to saddle the donkey of my daily life with the intentionality of worship, not transaction, to engage in prayer, study, and service not as currency to purchase favor but as the natural respiration of a life united to the Vine. This means my morning devotional time becomes my Moriah, a place where I lay my cherished plans on the altar, trusting that the God who provides will meet me there. If my primary duty is this vertical surrender, how does that realigned heart necessarily recalibrate my horizontal relationships with the people around me? The connection is inseparable, for love for God, when genuine, must cascade outward in practical benevolence.

HOW DO I LOVE THE GOD I CANNOT SEE?

The orientation of my surrendered heart toward God inevitably and irresistibly dictates its orientation toward my neighbor, making genuine love for others the infallible fruit and evidence of genuine love for God, and exposing any claim to piety that coexists with exploitation or indifference as a Balaam-like fraud. This responsibility flows from the very law of God’s kingdom, demanding that my donkey, my resources, and my journey be directed toward blessing and lifting others, not cursing or exploiting them for personal gain. “Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself: I am the LORD” (Leviticus 19:18). “For all the law is fulfilled in one word, even in this; Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself” (Galatians 5:14). “Love worketh no ill to his neighbour: therefore love is the fulfilling of the law” (Romans 13:10). “And as ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise” (Luke 6:31). “By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another” (John 13:35). “But whoso hath this world’s good, and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him?” (1 John 3:17). The biblical imperative is unambiguous: love for God is enacted and validated through practical, selfless love for the image-bearers He places in my path. In her writings, Sr. White places this duty at the heart of practical Christianity. “Christ’s method alone will give true success in reaching the people. The Saviour mingled with men as one who desired their good. He showed His sympathy for them, ministered to their needs, and won their confidence. Then He bade them, ‘Follow Me’” (The Ministry of Healing, p. 143, 1905). She connects it to our spiritual health: “We are to weep with those that weep, and rejoice with those that rejoice. Accompanied by the power of persuasion, the power of prayer, the power of the love of God, this work will not, cannot, be without fruit” (The Ministry of Healing, p. 144, 1905). This love is active: “True love is a high and holy principle, altogether different in character from that love which is awakened by impulse” (The Adventist Home, p. 50, 1952). It is the antidote to Balaam’s spirit: “The spirit of criticism and condemnation is one of Satan’s most effective agencies to tear down and destroy” (Gospel Workers, p. 316, 1915). She frames it as our great work: “Our work is to restore the moral image of God in man through the abundant grace given us of God” (Testimonies for the Church, Vol. 3, p. 188, 1872). She summarizes the principle: “Love to man is the earthward manifestation of the love of God” (The Desire of Ages, p. 608, 1898). Therefore, my responsibility is to actively use my position, my possessions, and my voice to mend rather than curse, to serve rather than be served, to see Christ in the least of humanity and minister accordingly. This means my daily journey must be punctuated with deliberate acts of kindness, my business conducted with scrupulous fairness, and my speech seasoned with grace, ensuring that the donkey of my daily labor carries a load of blessing for others. Having traced the path from internal motive to external duty, what final, practical questions should guide our continual reflection and application of these truths in our shared community life? We must now turn from individual insight to collective action, forging a community ethos that reflects the faith of Abraham.

WHERE DO WE GO FROM THIS MORNING?

The tale of two donkeys leaves us not with a neat theological formula but with a piercing, personal inquiry that must be answered anew with each sunrise, a call to audit the hidden springs of our action and align our daily journeys with the covenant of sacrificial love. We stand as a community at a crossroads mirroring that ancient one, tasked with applying these dual narratives to our collective worship, our mutual encouragement, and our shared mission in a world drowning in Balaam-like compromise. “And if it seem evil unto you to serve the LORD, choose you this day whom ye will serve; whether the gods which your fathers served that were on the other side of the flood, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land ye dwell: but as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD” (Joshua 24:15). “Examine yourselves, whether ye be in the faith; prove your own selves. Know ye not your own selves, how that Jesus Christ is in you, except ye be reprobates?” (2 Corinthians 13:5). “Wherefore the rather, brethren, give diligence to make your calling and election sure: for if ye do these things, ye shall never fall” (2 Peter 1:10). “Let us search and try our ways, and turn again to the LORD” (Lamentations 3:40). “Watch ye, stand fast in the faith, quit you like men, be strong” (1 Corinthians 16:13). “Therefore to him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin” (James 4:17). The scripture calls for decisive, communal self-examination and commitment. Through inspired counsel we are directed toward practical sanctification. “We must not for a moment relax our watchfulness; for our great adversary is ever upon our track, seeking to overcome us by his devices” (Testimonies for the Church, Vol. 5, p. 137, 1889). She urges specific action: “There is need of a much closer study of the word of God; especially should Daniel and the Revelation have attention as never before” (Testimonies to Ministers, p. 112, 1923). The focus is internal: “The work of transformation from unholiness to holiness is a continuous one” (The Acts of the Apostles, p. 532, 1911). Our study must be deep: “We must study the truth for ourselves; no living man should be relied upon to think for us” (Testimonies for the Church, Vol. 5, p. 707, 1889). The goal is clear: “The last rays of merciful light, the last message of mercy to be given to the world, is a revelation of His character of love” (Christ’s Object Lessons, p. 415, 1900). Finally, she anchors our hope: “Let us be hopeful and courageous. Despondency in God’s service is sinful and unreasonable” (Prophets and Kings, p. 164, 1917). We must therefore ask ourselves as a body: Does our collective worship bear the marks of Abraham’s costly surrender or Balaam’s negotiated compliance? Do our ministries mingle with the broken to bless, or do they stand aloof to curse for a price? Let us commit to being a community that saddles its donkeys with the deliberate, loving intent to ascend to the mount of the Lord, wherever He may lead. This collective commitment must now be distilled into personal and communal applications that bridge theology and daily practice.

HOW DO THESE TRUTHS REFLECT GOD’S LOVE?

The concepts explored here reflect God’s love as an active, intervening, and personal force that seeks our highest good, even when that good requires severe mercy or the suspension of our immediate understanding. God’s love is not a passive sentiment but the operational principle of His government, a love that both blocks the path to destruction and provides the means of salvation, mirroring the dual manifestations seen with Balaam and Abraham. This love is rooted in His eternal character, a commitment to restore His image in us through a process that respects our freedom while relentlessly pursuing our redemption. “The LORD thy God in the midst of thee is mighty; he will save, he will rejoice over thee with joy; he will rest in his love, he will joy over thee with singing” (Zephaniah 3:17). “But after that the kindness and love of God our Saviour toward man appeared” (Titus 3:4). “Hereby perceive we the love of God, because he laid down his life for us: and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren” (1 John 3:16). “In this was manifested the love of God toward us, because that God sent his only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through him” (1 John 4:9). “And we have known and believed the love that God hath to us. God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him” (1 John 4:16). “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?” (Romans 8:35). These scriptures collectively portray a love that is mighty, saving, joyful, sacrificial, manifest in Christ, and ultimately inseparable from the believer. The prophetic messenger elaborates on this foundational love. “God is love. 1 John 4:16. His nature, His law, is love. It ever has been; it ever will be” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 33, 1890). She explains its proactive nature: “The Lord permits difficulties, perplexities, and disappointment to occur, that we may feel our need of Him” (Our High Calling, p. 267, 1961). This love educates us: “God’s love is manifested in all His dealings with His people; and with clear, unclouded eyes, in adversity, in sickness, in disappointment, we are to behold the light of His glory in the face of Christ” (The Ministry of Healing, p. 484, 1905). It is a sanctifying force: “The love of God in the soul will banish all hatred, selfishness, and envy; for the love of God is first pure, then peaceable” (Testimonies for the Church, Vol. 5, p. 169, 1889). It demands a response: “The love of Christ constraineth us. This is the secret of all true service for God” (Gospel Workers, p. 18, 1915). It culminates in restoration: “The cross of Calvary appeals to every heart, to every intellect, to every human being who will give attention to the wonderful love of God” (Testimonies for the Church, Vol. 5, p. 633, 1889). I see now that God’s love is the unwavering current beneath every event in my life, the constant that makes every blocked Balaam-path an act of grace and every provided Abraham-ram a testimony to His faithfulness. This love is not an abstract concept but the very engine of the Plan of Redemption, working in my daily choices to draw me into alignment with His self-giving character.

WHAT ARE MY DUTIES TOWARD GOD HIMSELF?

In light of these concepts, my responsibilities toward God encompass the total surrender of my will, the diligent cultivation of a heart aligned with His principles, and the faithful obedience that flows from a relationship of trust and love, rejecting the transactional spirit of Balaam for the covenantal commitment of Abraham. This duty is not a burdensome list but the joyful response of a creature to a loving Creator, involving the consistent offering of my thoughts, motives, and actions for His scrutiny and sanctification. “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength: this is the first commandment” (Mark 12:30). “I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service” (Romans 12:1). “And he that taketh not his cross, and followeth after me, is not worthy of me” (Matthew 10:38). “If ye love me, keep my commandments” (John 14:15). “But be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves” (James 1:22). “Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding” (Proverbs 3:5). My duty, therefore, is to engage my entire being in loving obedience, to make my life a living sacrifice, to take up the cross of daily denial, to translate love into commandment-keeping, to act upon divine instruction, and to root my trust entirely in God’s wisdom. Sr. White provides penetrating insight into these responsibilities. “The first duty of man is to love and reverence God” (Testimonies for the Church, Vol. 5, p. 179, 1889). She clarifies the nature of this service: “Obedience—the service and allegiance of love—is the true sign of discipleship” (Steps to Christ, p. 60, 1892). This obedience is internal: “The surrender of all our powers to God greatly simplifies the problem of life” (The Ministry of Healing, p. 473, 1905). It requires constant vigilance: “We must not for a moment relax our watchfulness; for our great adversary is ever upon our track, seeking to overcome us by his devices” (Testimonies for the Church, Vol. 5, p. 137, 1889). It involves the mind: “We must study the truth for ourselves; no living man should be relied upon to think for us” (Testimonies for the Church, Vol. 5, p. 707, 1889). It is the essence of true religion: “Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world” (James 1:27, quoted in The Adventist Home, p. 354, 1952). I recognize that my primary duty is to nurture a heart so surrendered that every action, from the monumental to the mundane, becomes an act of worship. This means I must consciously dedicate each day to Him, seek His will in study and prayer, and submit my plans to His providence, ensuring my spiritual donkey is saddled for His purposes, not my own.

WHAT ARE MY DUTIES TO MY NEIGHBOR NOW?

In light of these concepts, my responsibilities toward my neighbor are the practical, tangible outworking of my love for God, requiring active benevolence, selfless service, fair dealing, and a commitment to seek their well-being as diligently as my own, thereby repudiating the exploitative spirit of Balaam and embodying the blessing-oriented faith of Abraham. This duty extends to all within my sphere of influence, demanding that I see Christ in them and act as His agent of grace, mercy, and justice in a broken world. “Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself” (Leviticus 19:18). “As we have therefore opportunity, let us do good unto all men, especially unto them who are of the household of faith” (Galatians 6:10). “Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves” (Philippians 2:3). “Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2). “But to do good and to communicate forget not: for with such sacrifices God is well pleased” (Hebrews 13:16). “And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you” (Ephesians 4:32). My duty is to actively love, to seize every opportunity for doing good, to cultivate genuine humility, to share the burdens of others, to be generous, and to extend the same kindness and forgiveness I have received from God. The inspired writings ground this duty firmly. “Love to man is the earthward manifestation of the love of God” (The Desire of Ages, p. 608, 1898). She prescribes the method: “Christ’s method alone will give true success in reaching the people. The Saviour mingled with men as one who desired their good” (The Ministry of Healing, p. 143, 1905). This love is practical: “True love is a high and holy principle, altogether different in character from that love which is awakened by impulse” (The Adventist Home, p. 50, 1952). It is the antithesis of Balaam’s spirit: “The spirit of criticism and condemnation is one of Satan’s most effective agencies to tear down and destroy” (Gospel Workers, p. 316, 1915). It defines our mission: “Our work is to restore the moral image of God in man through the abundant grace given us of God” (Testimonies for the Church, Vol. 3, p. 188, 1872). It requires personal investment: “We are to weep with those that weep, and rejoice with those that rejoice” (The Ministry of Healing, p. 144, 1905). I understand now that my love for God remains an empty abstraction unless it is expressed in concrete acts of love for the people I encounter. My responsibility is to make my daily journey—my work, my conversations, my use of resources—a vehicle for blessing, ensuring that I am a conduit of God’s love rather than an obstacle to it.

WHAT QUESTIONS MUST WE CARRY FORWARD?

The journey from Abraham’s faithful obedience to Balaam’s fatal presumption charts the map of the human heart in relation to the divine will. We have seen that identical outward acts are spiritually defined by their hidden motives, that true sight is granted to the humble, and that God’s love actively works to save us from both external destruction and internal corruption. Our responsibility is total surrender to God, expressed in practical love for our neighbor. This exploration leads me to specific, actionable questions for my own life and for our shared community practice. For my personal study: How will I implement a daily “heart check” at the start of each morning to examine the motives behind my planned activities? For my teaching and preaching: How can I better illustrate the principle of internal motive versus external action, using these biblical narratives, to warn against formalism and encourage genuine faith? For addressing misconceptions: How can I lovingly correct the prevalent idea that busy religious activity is equivalent to obedience, using the contrast between Abraham’s worshipful preparation and Balaam’s hasty journey? For living the message: What one practical act of neighborly love, inspired by Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice for God’s future blessing, will I perform this week as a tangible fruit of this study? As we close, let us remember that the Plan of Redemption is worked out in the choices of our ordinary days. May we choose to saddle our days with intent, devotion, and a heart directed upward, that our lives may be a blessing and not a curse.

“Keep thy heart with all diligence; for out of it are the issues of life.” (Proverbs 4:23))

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Data Comparisons: The Biblical vs. Modern Coalition

Biblical Faction	Modern Counterpart	Primary Resentment (Sacks’ Analysis)	The “Projection” (Accusation vs. Reality)
Korah (Levite Elite)	Islamists (Iran/Hamas)	Status Anxiety: “Why are you above us?” (Desire for Theocratic Supremacy)	Accuse Israel of “Jewish Supremacy/Apartheid” to mask their goal of Islamic Supremacy/Caliphate.
Dathan & Abiram	Palestinian Nationalists	Lost Birthright: “You brought us out to kill us.” (Reactionary/Revanchist)	Accuse Israel of “Dispossession” while rejecting every offer of possession (statehood) in favor of total conquest.
250 Chieftains	Western Academic Left	Displaced Priesthood: “We are all holy.” (Moral Vanity/Lost Cultural Power)	Accuse Israel of “Colonialism” to assuage their own guilt over Western history and reclaim moral authority.
The Mob	Campus Protesters	Populist Fervor: Swayed by the slogan “All are Holy.”	Adopt “Intersectionality” to feel part of the “Good” side, ignoring the contradictions of their allies.

SELF-REFLECTION

How can I delve deeper into these truths of rebellion and unity in my devotional life, allowing them to shape my character and priorities?

How can we make these themes of resentment and divine authority understandable to diverse audiences without compromising accuracy?

What common misconceptions about rebellion exist in my community, and how can I correct them gently using Scripture and Sr. White’s writings?

In what ways can we as a community become beacons of true unity, living out God’s victory over divisive forces?

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