The Burden of a King
Author Unknown

To live a life of complete servant hood is a task that very few men wish to undertake. This is understandable. I mean, if you think about it for just a second, it takes a great deal of time, effort, and patience to bare the burdens of others day after day. Nevertheless, it seems to come natural to me. It’s as if it were in my blood. And I’m not trying to brag, but I have carried more weight on my shoulders than any normal human has ever or will ever carry. I’ve lifted the burdens of countless souls around me, and I expect that I will do so for many years still. I remember one occasion in particular though that will live in my memory forever. It was a pivotal point in history, and I, servant to mankind, bore the burden that no other has or ever will embrace.

I remember the event as if it had happened yesterday. The morning sun was just barely slicing through the velvety clouds on the desert horizon. Two of the disciples woke me abruptly from a deep sleep and escorted me into the wilderness. As we approached the camp where the other ten were waiting, I couldn’t help but notice the excitement on their faces. As we drew closer I over heard them discussing the days plans. And of course, I soon found out that I would be the focal point of it all. The plan was to march triumphantly into the city of Jerusalem and proclaim the coming of the Messiah. It almost scared me to think of the power behind that statement, and I wondered how people would react. All the same, we were on a mission, and in my case there would be no alternative.

As we approached the mighty walls of the city I could heard the echoes of what seemed a million voices shouting and singing praises. This noise came from the great multitude that had gathered to greet their coming Savior. As we strode nearer to the crowds, I could smell the sweet, fresh palm branches they waved in the air. I noticed the expressions on their faces. It was as if they were hypnotized by an unseen presence, in awe of something supernatural and spectacular. Although there were a few in the crowd that mocked us and cried out obscenities, it didn’t bother me very much, because I was used to being mistreated. Suddenly I heard a humble but noble voice from above. It was my master and I remember quite vividly him saying softly “It is for these very sinners that I die.” It was at this very moment that I grasped the importance of the burden that I carried.

As our journey came to a halt, I took a moment to ponder my existence. In my lifetime I had heard many different versions of where I would reside in death. Some insisted that I am soulless. They explained that I would die, but would not have a life after death. Others have said that my existence here on earth is pointless because I have no place in heaven. On the contrary, I know that I must have a life to look forward to after death. Otherwise, what was the point of me carrying the weight of this cruel world upon my shoulders? Why then would I be in a place of such significance, and at such a time as this? I probably shouldn’t worry myself with such questions; especially since I have all of the answers I need just inches away. Of course, no matter what the conclusion of my meek existence, I will hold a place in history. I will be spoken of in thousands of sermons and lectures. I will be remembered for my servant hood, but my silhouette will be forever faceless. I’m not of any consequential importance at all. No, I am just the jackass that Jesus rode in on.