REFLECTION

Sep 12, 2026

In Numbers 22, Balak son of Zippor, king of Moab, is terrified of the Israelites after witnessing their defeat of the Amorites. In an effort to protect his nation, he sends for Balaam son of Beor and asks him to place a curse on Israel, believing that a curse will give him the victory he cannot secure on his own.


When Balak’s officials arrive, Balaam consults God. God’s answer is direct: “Do not go with them. You must not put a curse on those people, because they are blessed” (Numbers 22:12). Balaam obeys and sends the men away.


But Balak is persistent. He sends a second group of officials, more numerous and more honorable than the first, and they come with promises of reward and promotion. Once again, Balaam consults God. On the surface, his response appears spiritual and appropriate, but his actions reveal that something within him is still unsettled. God had already spoken. God had already made clear that Israel was blessed. The only real difference between the first time Balaam consulted God and the second was that the offer of reward and promotion was greater.


Eventually, God permits Balaam to go, but only under strict instruction. He must say only what God tells him to say. Even then, the details of the story suggest that Balaam’s heart is divided. He rises early, as if eager to go, and Scripture tells us that God’s anger burns against him on the road. That may seem confusing at first. Balaam had permission to go. Yet God saw his heart, and even with permission, it is clear that Balaam’s intentions were not wholly aligned with honoring God.


As Balaam rides on his donkey, an angel of the Lord stands in the road with a drawn sword. Balaam cannot see the angel, but the donkey can. Three times the donkey turns aside, presses against the wall, or lies down in order to spare Balaam’s life. Three times, Balaam responds with anger and violence.


This is a striking reversal of roles. Balaam is the seer, yet he cannot see. The donkey is only an animal, yet it perceives what the prophet misses. Balaam is so consumed by his own agenda that he mistakes mercy for inconvenience. He beats the very thing that is protecting him.


Finally, God opens the donkey’s mouth, and the donkey asks Balaam why he has beaten him three times. Balaam’s response reveals his embarrassment and wounded pride. He is concerned with how he appears and with the frustration of being obstructed, but not with the condition of his own heart before God. Then God opens Balaam’s eyes. Balaam sees the angel and realizes how close he came to death. The angel tells him plainly that his path is reckless. At this point, Balaam is forced to confront the waywardness of his own heart and the danger of the path he was on. He still goes on to meet Balak, but now under God’s clear instruction, and when the time comes, he would pronounce blessings instead of curses over God’s people.


This story can help us grapple with a difficult question: Does feeling moved by God, being used by God, or being spoken to by God automatically mean that a person has the right heart or the right intentions? Balaam’s story suggests otherwise.


Another lesson we learn from Balaam is that a divided heart can cloud vision. Balaam’s problem was not simply greed. He was spiritually active, but inwardly compromised. He could hear from God, but instead of allowing that connection to transform his inner life, he was drawn to use it for external gain. In that sense, Balaam becomes a prophet for hire.


The story of Balaam is a case study in what it means to have a form of godliness while denying its power. His story reminds us that just because someone appears to have a connection with God does not necessarily mean they have fully yielded themselves to God. Outward spirituality is not the same as inward transformation.