I've been reading quite a bit lately. Trying to catch up on some unread books stacking up in my library. Right now I'm in the middle of "In the Eye of the Storm" by Max Lucado. Max is a local Texas (San Antonio) pastor and Christian author. Personally, I love his writing, as it's simple to read and always hits home, whether you're a Christian or not. I've gone through several of his books and want to get more. (In case anyone needs a birthday hint! )
Anyways, this book "In the Eye of the Storm" is a book about how to deal with stress and doubt and loss of faith. I'm in a pretty stressful situation right now, being unemployed and all, so I thought it would be a good read. Every chapter is absolutely amazing and HITS HOME with exactly where I'm at in my life. But there was a good little fable he mentions in chapter 15 that I'd like to share. It's not necessarily dealing directly with doubt or loss of faith, but I hope you read it with patience and find something positive in it. Sometimes things on this board get a little crazy with the flame wars and I thought maybe this would help. Help people stop and think before they hit that "SUBMIT" button: Is what I'm saying accurate? Does it serve a positive purpose? Is it encouraging or tearing down? Is it your opinion or fact? Here it is...I hope you enjoy if nothing else!
In the Eye of the Storm
Max Lucado
Chapter 15 (portions)
Would you buy a house if you were only allowed to see one of its rooms? Would you purchase a car if you were permitted to see only its tires and a taillight? Would you pass judgment on a book after reading only one paragraph?
Nor would I.
Good judgment requires a broad picture. Not only is that true in purchasing houses, cars, and books, its true in evaluating life. One failure doesnt make a person a failure; one achievement doesnt make a person a success.
A simple fable for those of us who try to pass judgment on life with only one days evidence. The message is profound. I pray that it will remind you, as it did me, that patience is the greater courage.
Once there was an old man who lived in a tiny village. Although poor, he was envied by all, for he owned a beautiful white horse. Even the king coveted his treasure. A horse like this had never been seen before such was its splendor, its majesty, its strength.
People offered fabulous prices for the steed, but the old man always refused. This horse is not a horse to me, he would tell them. It is a person. How could you sell a person? He is a friend, not a possession. How could you sell a friend? The man was poor and the temptation was great. But he never sold the horse.
One morning he found that the horse was not in the stable. All the village came to see him. You old fool, they scoffed, we told you that someone would steal your horse. We warned you that you would be robbed. You are so poor. How could you ever hope to protect such a valuable animal? It would have been better to have sold him. You could have gotten whatever price you wanted. No amount would have been too high. Now the horse is gone, and youve been cursed with misfortune.
The old man responded, Dont speak too quickly. Say only that the horse is not in the stable. That is all we know; the rest is judgment. If Ive been cursed or not, how can you know? How can you judge?
The people contested, Dont make us out to be fools! We may not be philosophers, but great philosophy is not needed. The simple fact that your horse is gone is a curse.
The old man spoke again. All I know is that the stable is empty, and the horse is gone. The rest I dont know. Whether it be a curse or a blessing, I cant say. All we can see is a fragment. Who can say what will come next?
The people of the village laughed. They thought that the man was crazy. They had always thought he was a fool; if he wasnt, he would have sold the horse and lived off the money. But instead, he was a poor woodcutter, an old man still cutting firewood and dragging it out of the forest and selling it. He lived hand to mouth in the misery of poverty. Now he had proven that he was, indeed, a fool.
After fifteen days, the horse returned. He hadnt been stolen; he had run away into the forest. Not only had he returned, he had brought a dozen wild horses with him. Once again the village people gathered around the woodcutter and spoke. Old man, you were right and we were wrong. What we thought was a curse was a blessing. Please forgive us.
The man responded, once again, you go too far. Say only that the horse is back. State only that a dozen horses returned with him, but dont judge. How do you know if this is a blessing or not? You see only a fragment. Unless you know the whole story, how can you judge? You read only one page of a book. Can you judge the whole book? You read only one word of a phrase. Can you understand the entire phrase?
Life is so vast, yet you judge all of life with one page or one word. All you have is a fragment! Dont say that his is a blessing No one knows. I am content with what I know. I am not perturbed by what I dont.
Maybe the old man is right, they said to one another. So they said little. But down deep, they knew he was wrong. They knew it was a blessing. Twelve wild horses had returned with one horse. With a little bit of work, the animals could be broken and trained and sold for much money.
The old man had a son, an only son. The young man began to break the wild horses. After a few days, he fell from one of the horses and broke both legs. Once again the villagers gathered around the old man and cast their judgments.
You were right, they said. You proved you were right. The dozen horses were not a blessing. They were a curse. Your only son has broken his legs, and now in your old age you have no one to help you. Now you are poorer than ever.
The old man spoke again. You people are obsessed with judging. Dont go so far. Say only that my son broke his legs. Who knows if it is a blessing or a curse? No one knows. We only have a fragment. Life comes in fragments.
It so happened that a few weeks later the country engaged in war against a neighboring country. All the young men of the village were required to join the army. Only the son of the old man excluded, because he was injured. Once again the people gathered around the old man, crying and screaming because their sons had been taken. There was little chance that they would return. The enemy was strong, and the war would be a losing struggle. They would never see their sons again.
You were right, old man, they wept. God knows you were right. This proves it. Your sons accident was a blessing. His legs may be broken, but at least he is with you. Our sons are gone forever.
The old man spoke again. It is impossible to talk with you. You always draw conclusions. No one knows. Say only this: Your sons had to go to war, and mind did not. No one knows if it is a blessing or a curse. No one is wise enough to know. Only God knows.
The old man was right. We only have a fragment. Lifes mishaps and horrors are only a page out of a grand book. We must be slow about drawing conclusions. We must reserve judgment on lifes storms until we know the whole story.
I dont know where the woodcutter learned his patience. Perhaps from another woodcutter in Galilee. For it was the carpenter who said it best:
Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.