The Strong Donkey's Bad Bargain
Introduction: The Peril of Pleasant Pastures
We live in an age when the highest virtue is niceness, and the greatest good is comfort. The modern evangelical church, particularly in the West, has been catechized by this spirit more than it has by the Scriptures. We want a Christianity that is respectable, a faith that is comfortable, and a life that is pleasant. We want the crown without the cross, the resurrection without the crucifixion, and the kingdom without the conflict. And so, when we come to a passage like this one, a prophetic word spoken over Issachar, we ought to feel a profound and unsettling sense of recognition. For the spirit of Issachar is the besetting sin of the American church.
Jacob is on his deathbed, and he is not dispensing sentimental platitudes to his boys. He is operating as a prophet of God, laying out the character and destiny of the tribes that will descend from them. These are not horoscopes; they are covenantal blessings and curses, rooted in the very nature of each son. And when he comes to Issachar, he delivers a diagnosis that is startlingly relevant. He describes a people with immense potential, great strength, who squander it all for a quiet life. They make a bad bargain. They trade their birthright of dominion for the mess of pottage that is creature comforts.
This is the great temptation offered to every generation of Christians. The world, the flesh, and the devil do not always come at us with overt persecution and threats. Often, the greater danger is the offer of a truce. The world says to the church, "You are strong. You can be useful. Just bow your shoulder to our burdens, help us build our secular utopia, and we will let you have your pleasant lands. You can keep your buildings, your tax-exempt status, and your quiet life. All we ask is that you pull our plow." The tragedy of Issachar is that he took the deal. And in doing so, he traded the glorious liberty of the sons of God for the shackles of a slave.
We must therefore pay close attention. This is not just a historical curiosity about one of the twelve tribes. This is a spiritual mirror, and in it, we are forced to ask whether we see our own reflection.
The Text
"Issachar is a strong donkey, Lying down between the sheepfolds. And he saw that a resting place was good And that the land was pleasant, So he bowed his shoulder to bear burdens, And became a slave at forced labor."
(Genesis 49:14-15 LSB)
Potential and Passivity (v. 14)
The prophecy begins by describing what Issachar is, and what he is doing.
"Issachar is a strong donkey, Lying down between the sheepfolds." (Genesis 49:14 LSB)
In the ancient world, being compared to a strong donkey was not an insult. A donkey, particularly a "strong" or "bony" one, was a valuable asset. It speaks of strength, stamina, and the capacity for immense labor. This is a picture of raw potential. Issachar is not weak. The tribe of Issachar is not incapable. They have been endowed with everything they need to be a productive, formidable, and faithful contributor to the work of God's kingdom in Israel. They have the horsepower.
But what is this strong donkey doing? Is he plowing the field? Is he carrying a load for his master? Is he engaged in the work of dominion? No. He is "Lying down between the sheepfolds." The image is one of passivity and inertia. The sheepfolds, or saddlebags as some translations have it, represent security, provision, and the familiar boundaries of home. He is at rest, but it is not the Sabbath rest that follows faithful labor. It is the rest of complacency. It is the posture of a creature who has decided that the mission is optional.
Here we see the portrait of quietism. It is the belief that the Christian life is primarily about maintaining a state of peaceful repose, avoiding conflict, and enjoying the provisions God has given us without any obligation to advance the borders of His kingdom. This is the church that sees its strength, its resources, its people, and decides that the best use of all that potential is to lie down and maintain the status quo. It is strong, yes, but its strength is lazy. It is content within its own sheepfolds, with no thought for the wolves that are gathering outside.
The Fatal Calculation (v. 15)
Verse 15 gives us the reason for this passivity. It reveals the faulty logic, the carnal calculation that leads from strength to slavery.
"And he saw that a resting place was good And that the land was pleasant, So he bowed his shoulder to bear burdens, And became a slave at forced labor." (Genesis 49:15 LSB)
Notice the basis of his decision making. "He saw." This is a judgment based on sight, on sensual experience. He did not ask, "What has God commanded?" He did not ask, "What is my duty?" He asked, "What is pleasant? What is comfortable?" His worldview was governed by aesthetics, not by ethics. The resting place was "good" and the land was "pleasant." And on that basis, he made his choice.
This is the very essence of modern therapeutic moralistic deism. It is the idolatry of comfort. It defines "the good life" not as a life of faithfulness, obedience, and dominion, but as a life of ease, low stress, and pleasant surroundings. It is a profound betrayal of our created purpose. God gave us a good and pleasant world, but He gave it to us as a garden to tend and keep, a project to work on, a kingdom to build. He did not give it to us as a resort to lounge in. When our highest goal becomes the preservation of our own peace and comfort, we have already begun to bow our shoulder to a foreign master.
And here is the crushing irony. In his quest for a good resting place, Issachar ends up with a burden. "So he bowed his shoulder to bear burdens." He was willing to work, but only as a means to an end, and that end was comfort. He would rather submit to the Canaanites and pay them tribute than take up the sword and fight for his inheritance. He makes a trade: his freedom for their pleasant land. He will pull their plow, so long as they let him graze in their pasture. He will accept their yoke, so long as it allows him to maintain his comfortable lifestyle.
The end result is stated plainly: he "became a slave at forced labor." The pursuit of comfort leads directly to servitude. The man who will not fight for his freedom will soon find he has neither. The church that makes a truce with the world in order to avoid conflict will inevitably become the world's chaplain, the world's beast of burden. By refusing the burden of faithfulness, which is a light yoke, we are saddled with the burden of slavery, which is a heavy one. By prioritizing the pleasantness of the land over the commands of the Lord of the land, we lose both.
The Better Donkey
This prophecy about Issachar stands as a stark warning. But like all Scripture, it ultimately points us to Christ, who provides the perfect contrast and the only remedy.
Jesus Christ is the truly "strong" one. He is the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the one with all authority in heaven and on earth. And He too "saw" the resting place that was good and the land that was pleasant. He saw the glory He had with the Father before the world began. But He did not cling to that comfort. For the joy that was set before Him, He endured the cross, despising the shame (Hebrews 12:2).
He "bowed his shoulder to bear a burden," but it was not the burden of compromise. It was the unbearable burden of our sin. He willingly became a servant, not to the world in exchange for an easy life, but to the Father in perfect obedience, in order to purchase our freedom. He is the strong one who did not lie down, but who marched resolutely to Jerusalem. He is the one who took the yoke of God's wrath upon Himself so that He could offer us His yoke, which is easy, and His burden, which is light (Matthew 11:30).
Conclusion: Which Yoke Will You Bear?
The choice before every Christian and every church is the same choice that was before Issachar. It is not a choice between bearing a burden and bearing no burden. It is a choice between which burden you will bear, and for which master.
Will you bear the light burden of discipleship? This involves the hard work of evangelism, the conflict of cultural engagement, the labor of raising godly children, and the fight of faith against sin. It is a burden, to be sure, but it is a burden carried in the strength of Christ, for the glory of God, and it leads to eternal life and a kingdom that cannot be shaken.
Or will you, like Issachar, see that the world's resting place looks good and its land seems pleasant? Will you trade the hard work of kingdom-building for the false promise of a quiet life? Will you bow your shoulder to the world's priorities, its ideologies, and its demands, all in the hope that it will leave you alone? If you make that bargain, you will find, as Issachar did, that the only thing at the end of that road is a yoke of slavery.
We are not called to be strong donkeys lying down in the fields of complacency. We are called to be good soldiers of Jesus Christ. Let us therefore repent of our love of comfort, our fear of conflict, and our desire for the world's approval. Let us shake off our slumber, take up the easy yoke of our Master, and labor faithfully in His pleasant land, not as slaves, but as sons and heirs of the King.