The Prophet Who Wouldn’t Bless — and Couldn’t Stop

“I see him, but not now;
I behold him, but not near:
a star shall come out of Jacob,
and a scepter shall rise out of Israel…”
Numbers 24:17

Balaam is one of the most perplexing figures in the Old Testament. He was a prophet for hire, famous for his spiritual reputation and willing heart. Balak, king of Moab, summoned him to curse Israel, convinced that spiritual weaponry would succeed where the military failed. Balaam was happy to accept the commission, there was gold to be earned, provided that God permitted it.

And this is the great tension of Balaam’s story: he longed to curse, but was only able to speak what God gave him to say.

Three times from the mountaintop he opened his mouth hoping to condemn Israel, and three times blessing poured out instead. Not because Balaam loved Israel. Not because his heart was pure. But because God had set His favor upon His people and would not allow their blessing to be reversed.

Then, in one of the most remarkable moments in Scripture, this compromised prophet becomes the mouthpiece of one of the clearest Messianic prophecies of the Pentateuch.

“A star shall come out of Jacob, and a scepter shall rise out of Israel.”

Balaam, hired to destroy Israel, ends up proclaiming Israel’s greatest glory: the coming of the Messiah King.

There is holy irony here, the kind only God can write. A prophet driven by greed is compelled to announce a Savior driven by grace. A man seeking personal gain announces the triumph of the true King who will reign not through conquest but through sacrifice. Balaam foresaw the rise of a scepter, yet never bowed to it himself.

This moment teaches us something essential about God’s sovereignty: the Lord accomplishes His purposes not only through willing servants, but even through unwilling vessels. Balaam spoke better than he believed. His lips preached Christ while his heart remained unchanged.

And yet God’s Word came forth unhindered.

The coming Christ is described as both Star and Scepter, radiant glory and royal authority. The Star that would guide Gentiles centuries later to Bethlehem. The Scepter that would establish not merely an earthly kingdom, but a dominion of righteousness, peace, and everlasting life.

Ironically, Balaam stood among the Gentiles and spoke of the Jewish King sent for the salvation of the world, including men like Balaam himself. And still he walked away.

This is where the account grows sobering. It is possible to speak the truth of Christ without loving Him. It is possible to proclaim the gospel while missing the grace of it altogether. Balaam reminds us that proximity to truth does not equal saving faith. Ministry knowledge is not the same as a transformed heart.

Yet even this does not dim the glory of God’s purposes. If God could use a prophet motivated by profit to announce the promise of Christ, how much more will He use ordinary, stumbling believers yielded to His Word?

The Messiah does not need perfect servants, only faithful proclamation. The power is not in the messenger, but in the message.

Balaam meant to curse — God compelled blessing.
Balaam sought gold — God revealed glory.
Balaam spoke Christ — but never trusted Him.

And still the Star rose. Still the Scepter reigns. Still the gospel advances, unstoppable by human sin, weakness, or hypocrisy.

God will accomplish every word He has spoken, even when His servants do not understand the weight of what they proclaim.

May we not be like Balaam, content to speak truths we will not submit to. Instead, may we behold the Star not only with our lips, but with faith, and bow before the Scepter not only with words, but with our lives.

“We have the prophetic word more fully confirmed… until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.” (2 Peter 1:19)

SDG

The Spiritual Power of Small Things

“For whoever has despised the day of small things shall rejoice…”
Zechariah 4:10

Sometimes, I wonder if our goals aren’t just too big.

Not in the sense that they’re too hard for God—He’s never once been overwhelmed by our ambitions. But too big in the sense that they’re aimed in the wrong direction. We crave big churches, big ministries, big platforms, big influence. We dream of doing something great for God, but often we’re really trying to do something impressive for ourselves—with just enough God in it to keep us respectable.

It’s nothing new. The builders at Babel had a vision. They wanted to make a name for themselves, to reach the heavens, to establish a monument of permanence. But God wasn’t impressed. Their tower crumbled before it ever touched the sky—not because their engineering failed, but because their ambition was self-centered. It was a great goal with a crooked aim.

The story of Scripture tells a different kind of building project.

In Zechariah’s day, the exiles had returned from Babylon and were tasked with rebuilding the temple. The work was slow, unimpressive, and frankly disappointing. Compared to the glory of Solomon’s temple, this one looked like a sad shadow of former glory. People were weeping at the foundation (Ezra 3:12). Hope was hard to come by.

But the Lord said: “Do not despise the day of small things.” Why? Because the work wasn’t about size or spectacle—it was about faithfulness. It was never about the greatness of what they built, but about the greatness of the One they were building for.

The same Spirit who promised that rebuilding would succeed (Zech. 4:6) is still at work in us today. But He often moves through the quiet, the hidden, the uncelebrated.

Jesus seemed to delight in small things:
– a mustard seed
– a hidden treasure
– a single lost sheep
– a widow’s coin

He even said the whole kingdom of God is like yeast worked invisibly into dough.
It’s not that Jesus didn’t think big—He just knew the Father builds big things slowly and often invisibly.

Most days, Christian faithfulness doesn’t look like a tower reaching to the heavens. It looks like praying when no one sees. Forgiving when no one thanks you. Reading Scripture in the early morning stillness, even when your heart feels dull. Serving in the background. Holding your tongue. Loving the difficult.

These aren’t Instagram-worthy moments. But they’re mustard seeds—and Christ said that’s where the kingdom begins.

Small isn’t insignificant. It’s the ordinary soil where God grows extraordinary fruit.
So don’t measure your life by the size of your accomplishments—measure it by your faithfulness to the One who called you.

Maybe your day today feels unimpressive. Maybe your efforts feel small.
Good. You’re in the right place.

Because God isn’t building towers to our greatness.
He’s building a kingdom for His glory.
And it all starts with small things.

SDG