Releasing The Donkey

A donkey was tied to a tree. A demon came and released him. The donkey entered the field of a farmer and began to eat everything. 

The farmer’s wife saw the donkey and was afraid that it would destroy the farm, took the rifle and killed it.

The donkey’s owner saw the dead donkey, got angry and also took his rifle and fired at the farmer's wife, killing her. 

When the farmer came home and saw that his wife was dead, he killed the donkey's owner.

The sons of the donkey owner, upon seeing that their father was dead, they burned the farmer's field. 

The farmer, in retaliation, shot and killed all of them.

The farmer was arrested and went to the gallow. 

When all the dead souls in hell asked the demon what he had done, the demon said:

"I did nothing evil, I just released the donkey."

Did you get it? The devil does not need to do much, and he is able to trigger the evil intention of human hearts to harm each other. 

So, let's consider carefully before seeking revenge! Be careful with how you respond to any situation because the only thing the devil needs to do is to“release the donkey”.

Reconciliation!

Shortly after the turn of the century, Japan invaded, conquered, and occupied Korea. Of all of their oppressors, Japan was the most ruthless. They overwhelmed the Koreans with a brutality that would sicken the strongest of stomachs. Their crimes against women and children were inhuman. Many Koreans live today with the physical and emotional scars from the Japanese occupation.

One group singled out for concentrated oppression was the Christians. When the Japanese army overpowered Korea one of the first things they did was board up the evangelical churches and eject most foreign missionaries. It has always fascinated me how people fail to learn from history. Conquering nations have consistently felt that shutting up churches would shut down Christianity. It didn't work in Rome when the church was established, and it hasn't worked since. Yet somehow the Japanese thought they would have a different success record.

The conquerors started by refusing to allow churches to meet and jailing many of the key Christian spokesmen. The oppression intensified as the Japanese military increased its profile in the South Pacific. The "Land of the Rising Sun" spread its influence through a reign of savage brutality. Anguish filled the hearts of the oppressed -- and kindled hatred deep in their souls. One pastor persistently entreated his local Japanese police chief for permission to meet for services. His nagging was finally accommodated, and the police chief offered to unlock his church ... for one meeting.

It didn't take long for word to travel. Committed Christians starving for an opportunity for unhindered worship quickly made their plans. Long before dawn on that promised Sunday, Korean families throughout a wide area made their way to the church. They passed the staring eyes of their Japanese captors, but nothing was going to steal their joy. As they closed the doors behind them they shut out the cares of oppression and shut in a burning spirit anxious to glorify their Lord.

The Korean church has always had a reputation as a singing church. Their voices of praise could not be concealed inside the little wooden frame sanctuary. Song after song rang through the open windows into the bright Sunday morning. For a handful of peasants listening nearby, the last two songs this congregation sang seemed suspended in time. It was during a stanza of "Nearer My God to Thee" that the Japanese police chief waiting outside gave the orders. The people toward the back of the church could hear them when they barricaded the doors, but no one realized that they had doused the church with kerosene until they smelled the smoke. The dried wooden skin of the small church quickly ignited. Fumes filled the structure as tongues of flame began to lick the baseboard on the interior walls.

There was an immediate rush for the windows. But momentary hope recoiled in horror as the men climbing out the windows came crashing back in -- their bodies ripped by a hail of bullets. The good pastor knew it was the end. With a calm that comes from confidence, he led his congregation in a hymn whose words served as a fitting farewell to earth and a loving salutation to heaven. The first few words were all the prompting the terrified worshipers needed. With smoke burning their eyes, they instantly joined as one to sing their hope and leave their legacy.

Their song became a serenade to the horrified and helpless witnesses outside. Their words also tugged at the hearts of the cruel men who oversaw this flaming execution of the innocent: Alas! and did my Savior bleed? and did my Sovereign die? Would he devote that sacred head for such a worm as I?

Just before the roof collapsed they sang the last verse, their words an eternal testimony to their faith: But drops of grief can ne'er repay the debt of love I owe: Here, Lord, I give myself away 'Tis all that I can do! At the cross, at the cross Where I first saw the light, And the burden of my heart rolled away -- It was there by faith I received my sight, And now I am happy all the day.

The strains of music and wails of children were lost in a roar of flames. The elements that once formed bone and flesh mixed with the smoke and dissipated into the air. The bodies that once housed life fused with the charred rubble of a building that once housed a church. But the souls who left singing finished their chorus in the throne room of God. Clearing the incinerated remains was the easy part. Erasing the hate would take decades. For some of the relatives of the victims, this carnage was too much. Evil had stooped to a new low, and there seemed to be no way to curb their bitter loathing of the Japanese.

In the decades that followed, that bitterness was passed on to a new generation. The Japanese, although conquered, remained a hated enemy. The monument the Koreans built at the location of the fire not only memorialized the people who died, but stood as a mute reminder of their pain. Inner rest? How could rest coexist with a bitterness deep as marrow in the bones?

Suffering, of course, is a part of life. People hurt people. Almost all of us have experienced it at some time. Maybe you felt it when you came home to find that your spouse had abandoned you, or when your integrity was destroyed by a series of well-timed lies, or when your company was bled dry by a partner. It kills you inside. Bitterness clamps down on your soul like iron shackles.

The Korean people who found it too hard to forgive could not enjoy the "peace that passes all understanding." Hatred choked their joy. It wasn't until 1972 that any hope came. A group of Japanese pastors traveling through Korea came upon the memorial. When they read the details of the tragedy and the names of the spiritual brothers and sisters who had perished, they were overcome with shame. Their country had sinned, and even though none of them were personally involved (some were not even born at the time of the tragedy), they still felt a national guilt that could not be excused.

They returned to Japan committed to right a wrong. There was an immediate outpouring of love from their fellow believers. They raised ten million yen ($25,000). The money was transferred through proper channels and a beautiful white church building was erected on the sight of the tragedy.

When the dedication service for the new building was held, a delegation from Japan joined the relatives and special guests. Although their generosity was acknowledged and their attempts at making peace appreciated, the memories were still there. Hatred preserves pain. It keeps the wounds open and the hurts fresh. The Koreans' bitterness had festered for decades. Christian brothers or not, these Japanese were descendants of a ruthless enemy.

The speeches were made, the details of the tragedy recalled, and the names of the dead honored. It was time to bring the service to a close. Someone in charge of the agenda thought it would be appropriate to conclude with the same two songs that were sung the day the church was burned.

The song leader began the words to "Nearer My God to Thee." But something remarkable happened as the voices mingled on the familiar melody. As the memories of the past mixed with the truth of the song, resistance started to melt. The inspiration that gave hope to a doomed collection of churchgoers in a past generation gave hope once more.

The song leader closed the service with the hymn "At the Cross."

The normally stoic Japanese could not contain themselves. The tears that began to fill their eyes during the song suddenly gushed from deep inside. They turned to their Korean spiritual relatives and begged them to forgive. The guarded, calloused hearts of the Koreans were not quick to surrender. But the love of the Japanese believers -- unintimidated by decades of hatred -- tore at the Koreans' emotions:At the cross, at the cross Where I first saw the light, And the burden of my heart rolled away ...

One Korean turned toward a Japanese brother. Then another. And then the floodgates holding back a wave of emotion let go. The Koreans met their new Japanese friends in the middle. They clung to each other and wept. Japanese tears of repentance and Korean tears of forgiveness intermingled to bathe the site of an old nightmare.

Heaven had sent the gift of reconciliation to a little white church in Korea.

Tim Kimmel, Little House on the Freeway, pp. 56-61.

FORGIVING THE KILLERS OF HIS FAMILY

Around the time of the Korean War, Kim Joon-gon had seen 2,000 out of 20,000 people on Chunnam Island murdered by the Communists. They dragged him and his family outside their village where Kim’s father and wife were beaten to death and Kim was left for dead.

When he revived and sought safety at an acquaintance’s house, he was turned over to the Communists. Only the sudden appearance of an American ship off the island coast saved him this time, for the Communist soldiers hurried away to the battle.

Kim hid out in the countryside until the South Korean army captured the island. The Communists who had killed his wife and father were arrested. Because it was wartime, the police chief had authority to execute without a trial. But as the chief prepared to kill the men, Kim pleaded, "Spare them. They were forced to kill."

The police chief showed great surprise. "It was your family they killed! Why do you now want to spare their lives?"

Kim replied, "Because the Lord, whose I am and whom I serve, would have me show mercy to them."

The Communists were spared execution because of Kim’s plea. News of his action spread among other Communist supporters in the area. When Kim later climbed a mountain to preach to Communists hiding out, he was not killed.

Many of the Communists became Christians, and when Kim finally left the island there was a flourishing church of 108 members.

Which Baby Would You Kill?

A worried woman went to her gynecologist and said: "Doctor, I have a serious problem and desperately need your help! My baby is not even one year old and I'm pregnant again. I don't want kids so close together."

The doctor said: "Ok, and what do you want me to do?"

She said: "I want you to end my pregnancy, and I'm counting on your help with this."

The doctor thought for a little, and after some silence he said to the lady:

"I think I have a better solution for your problem. It's less dangerous for you, too." She smiled, thinking that the doctor was going to accept her request.

Then he continued: "You see, in order for you not to have to take care of two babies at the same time, let's kill the one in your arms. This way, you could rest some before the second one is born. If we're going to kill one of them anyway, it really doesn't matter which one it is, does it? There would be no risk for your body if you chose to kill the one in your arms."

The woman was horrified and said: "No doctor! How terrible! It's a crime to kill a child!"

"I agree", the doctor replied. "But you seemed to be ok with it, so I thought maybe that might be the best solution."

The doctor smiled, realizing that he had made his point. He convinced the mom that there is no difference in killing a child that's already been born and one that's still in the womb. The crime is the same! Realizing this was true, the woman withdrew her request and soon found the love and support she needed at a local Church and Pregnancy Care Center. The mother and child are both alive and well today.

"Love cannot remain by itself -- it has no meaning. Love has to be put into action, and that action is service." — Mother Teresa

Giving Robbery A Bad Name

Some people have a tough time recognizing themselves as sinners. Joel Hunter tells of a friend who "once found himself in a conversation with a prison inmate who was serving time for robbery. My friend mentioned he recently read in the paper about a man who had robbed a house and killed the family. 'You know,' the inmate replied, 'it's people like that who give robbery a bad name.'

"When my friend remarked that he didn't know it had a good name, the prisoner explained that his kind of robbery wasn't so bad because he only stole from rich people and never harmed them. This is a guy who should be reminded of his own sinfulness every time he hears the metallic slam of the cell door, yet he can tell you with a straight face why he's not so bad. Although he could recognize sin in theory, he could not (or would not) see it in himself."

(from The Journey to Spiritual Maturity: The Challenging Road)

Amazing Forgiveness

In 1960, White police in South Africa attacked and killed 69 Black protesters in two minutes

The scene is a courtroom trial in South Africa. A frail black woman stands slowly to her feet. She is more than 70 years old. Facing her from across the room are several white security police officers. One of them, Mr. Van der Broek, has just been tried and found guilty in the murders of first the woman's son and then her husband. He had come to the woman's home, taken her son, shot him at point-blank and then burned the young man's body while he and his officers partied nearby.

Several years later Mr. Van der Broek and his cohorts returned to take away her husband, as well. For months, she heard nothing of his whereabouts. Then, almost two years after her husband's disappearance, Mr. Van der Broek came back to fetch her. How vividly she remembered that night. She was taken to a river bank where she was shown her husband, bound and beaten but still strong in spirit, lying on a pile of wood. The last words she heard from his lips as Mr. Van der Broek and his fellow officers poured gasoline over his body and set him aflame were, "Father, forgive them..."

Now the woman stands in the courtroom and listens to the confessions of Mr. Van der Broek. A member of South Africa's Truth and Reconciliation Commission turns to her and asks, "So what do you want? How should justice be done to this man who has so brutally destroyed your family?"

"I want three things," begins the old woman calmly, but confidently. "I want first to be taken to the place where my husband's body was burned so that I can gather up the dust and give his remains a decent burial."

She pauses, then continues. "My husband and son were my only family. I want, secondly, therefore, for Mr. Van der Broek to become my son. I would like for him to come twice a month to the ghetto and spend a day with me so I can pour out on him whatever love I still have remaining in me." "Finally," she says, "I would like Mr. Van der Broek to know I offer him my forgiveness because Jesus Christ died to forgive. This was also the wish of my husband. So, I would kindly ask someone to come to my side and lead me across the courtroom so I can take Mr. Van der Broek in my arms, embrace him and let him know he is truly forgiven."

As the court assistants come to lead the elderly woman across the room, Mr. Van der Broek faints, overwhelmed by what he has just heard. As he struggles for consciousness, those in the courtroom, family, friends, neighbors—all victims of decades of oppression and injustice—begin to sing, softly but assuredly, "Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me."

(Craig A. Smith, Sermon Illustrations for an Asian Audience, Manila: OMF Publishing, 2004)