R.C. Sproul

The corners of Raleigh's mouth tipped up in a smile because he knew he was about to hear another of Grandpa's wonderful stories.

No, Grandpa, he said.

I've never heard that story, but I'd love to hear it now.

So Grandpa sat down, and Riley sat on his knee.

Riley didn't feel too old for that.

You know, Riley, Grandpa started, several years ago, I went to Jerusalem, and I saw a funny sight.

Lots of people rode on little donkeys.

The donkeys in Jerusalem are small compared to the ones here in America.

They only grow to be about three or three and a half feet high.

The sight of a grown man riding on one of these donkeys made me giggle.

The man had to keep his knees bent way up to keep his feet from dragging on the ground.

And the little donkey the man was riding just kept going right down the street, bearing the man on his back.

I want to tell you about a donkey just like that little donkey I saw in Jerusalem.

The donkey in my story had never been picked for anything.

He wondered whether he would ever be chosen to do a job.

But one day he was picked for a very special task.

Many years ago, there was a little donkey named Davy.

He lived in a village close to the holy city of Jerusalem.

He was too young to work, so he was kept in his pen.

He had brothers and sisters, but none of them could play with him because they had jobs to do.