This is from a weekly devotional I get. It came this morning… The Woodcutter’s Wisdom by Max Lucado 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 you’ve been cursed with misfortune.” The old man responded, “Don’t speak too quickly. Say only that the horse is not in the stable. That is all we know; the rest is judgment. If I’ve been cursed or not, how can you know? How can you judge?” The people contested, “Don’t 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 don’t know. Whether it be a curse or a blessing, I can’t 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 wasn’t, 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 hadn’t 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 don’t 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! Don’t say that this is a blessing. No one knows. I am content with what I know. I am not perturbed by what I don’t.” “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. Don’t 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 was 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 son’s 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 mine 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. Life’s mishaps and horrors are only a page out of a grand book. We must be slow about drawing conclusions. We must reserve judgment on life’s storms until we know the whole story. I don’t 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.” (Mt. 6:34) He should know. He is the Author of our story. And he has already written the final chapter. From In the Eye of the Storm Copyright (Thomas Nelson, 1997) Max Lucado
Psalm 5:3 Listen to my voice in the morning, LORD. Each morning I bring my requests to you and wait expectantly. I have found that the days when I spend time with my Abba in the morning, my day seems a little less tense (usually). I’ve also found that the hardest part about requesting something is the waiting. I love how David is waiting “expectantly” for God’s answer. I wonder if he was waiting for a verbal answer or if he was waiting for a more physical answer. My husband and I recently took a class to help us communicate better with our son who has autism. One of the key things they teach parents is to wait. It’s really hard to wait. And there are times when I think I’m waiting, but I’m not. This is also a skill they try to teach teachers – ask a question and then wait. Count to 10. It always seems longer than it is. Maybe it’s the same with waiting for an answer. In the grand scheme of things, it’s definitely shorter than we think it is. But it’s really hard to wait without trying to say the answer or reiterate the question. Waiting is definitely hard to do.
Psalm 24:11 Wait patiently for the LORD. Be brave and courageous. Yes, wait patiently for the LORD. It is so hard to wait patiently. Think about little kids and Christmas. They may not even know what it is, but they can sense the excitement and it keeps them up at night in anticipation. Or what about when you see something you really want. For example, every night we do the same routine with my two boys. They get dinner, a bath, a bottle, and then we read and they go to bed. And every night, when Gavin sees his bottle being warmed up in the microwave he starts crying because he wants it now. It’s almost comical because there’s never been a time when we haven’t given him the bottle, and he doesn’t like it if it’s cold. So he has to wait a whole 28 seconds before it’s ready, and you’d think he’d never get that thing fast enough! Even as adults we have a hard time waiting patiently. At least, I know I do. I don’t like to wait in lines, and I always seem to pick the slowest one. I have a hard time waiting when I see something I really want to buy. Sometimes I have a hard time waiting until the boys are in bed so that I can make dinner and sit down and eat (yes, this is weird, and hopefully it’ll change so that we can all eat together sometime). I think that story about Gavin made me realize a little of why we have to wait on God sometimes. He hates his bottle cold, but waiting for it to get warmed up is hard. I wonder how often God makes us wait because the reward will be better in the end. He’s just heating it up. Twenty-eight seconds seems like an eternity to a two-year-old, and waiting patiently on God’s timing can seem just as long to us. I, as the adult doing the microwaving, know that it’ll only take 28 seconds, but Gavin doesn’t understand time the way I do. It’s the same thing with God. He knows exactly how long it’ll take until that thing I want is just right. I don’t know that because I can’t understand time the way that God does, so it may seem like that thing will never happen or never come, but God knows it’s only 28-seconds away.
Micah 6:3 O my people, what have I done to make you turn from me? Tell me why your patience is exhausted! Answer me! What a heart-piercing question. How often I accuse God and am angry at Him for the things going on in my life. There have been times when I’ve cried to Him, and there have been times when I’ve literally yelled at Him in anger and frustration. I don’t think God minds when I lose it like that. It’s probably one of the times when I’m most honest about my feelings with Him. But when I’ve calmed down and breathe deeply, I realize that it’s not really God’s fault. Sure, God could have stopped it or changed it, but sometimes things that happen are consequences of our actions or the actions of others. God isn’t going to control us that way. I realize that not all things are controllable, like sickness, and I don’t know the answer for that. I know that the “Christian” answer is that God has a purpose (which He does) and will somehow use the event and its pain and frustration in yours or someone else’s life (which he will…. eventually) and that you have to trust God’s love for you. And I hate answers like that! Don’t get me wrong. I know there is great truth to that answer. But when you’re spiraling down into pain and despair, an answer like that makes you want to punch the person who gives it to you. Sometimes a hug is a much better answer. Anyway, God asks the Israelites for a list of their grievances against Him. He wants us to tell Him our frustrations (with Him and with life). But, when we do that, we might be surprised at the blessings that come to mind at the same time. Then we might realize that we have an awful lot to thank God for, too.
Romans 12: 12Be glad for all God is planning for you. Be patient in trouble, and always be prayerful. The Message version puts it this way: “Don’t burn out; keep yourselves fueled and aflame. Be alert servants of the Master, cheerfully expectant. Don’t quit in hard times; pray all the harder.” That’s actually vs. 11 and 12. I love the part about not burning out and staying fueled and aflame. I find that I burn out, especially in my job. I get frustrated or go too long without recharging. And then I don’t do a very good job at what I need to do. Anyhow, cheerfully expectant, be glad for all God is planning for me. It doesn’t say just be glad for the good stuff. It says for all the stuff. I find that I almost dread what God is planning because I assume it will be difficult and painful. The few times I’ve allowed my hopes to be cheerfully expectant I’ve found that things didn’t turn out the way I had hoped… so where does that leave me in all this? I need to shift my paradigm and change how I look at God. If I don’t believe that God has good things planned (note: I didn’t say easy things He has planned – sometimes good is like eating your veggies… not exactly what you want), then my view of Him is off. That or my view of myself is off. Or both. Either God is good and loves me and wants my best (again, His best for me is not always the same as my best for me, because I don’t see all the variables – I don’t know that the stove is hot, but He does), or He’s not. If He is good and loving (and I believe He is), then I should live life like I’m one breath away from an awesome surprise or a great revelation. Cheerfully expectant. Glad of His plans. Don’t quit in hard times, pray all the harder. Also known as be patient and prayerful. My family’s been going through a lot of hard times lately. (To put it in perspective, there are a lot of people who have gone through harder. My family is relatively healthy and whole. Our struggles have been financial.) There have been times when I’ve been ready to quit. When Kai’s thrown up on me for the 5th time in one day because he can’t digest his food well, or Gavin has his 8th illness in one month and someone has to stay home with him again, and we have to get another round of medicine (yuck) that costs an arm and a leg after insurance, I get discouraged and just want to give up. I get so angry at God. Of course, this is a completely ridiculous response, but telling God how I feel (even if I tell Him rather forcefully or loudly or angrily) makes me feel a lot better. But it says not to give up. Be patient. God is working on my need to be in control, I think. By letting all these things happen where I have no control and where I can’t do anything to get back in control, I am learning to let go and allow God to sort things out. This is not an easy lesson for me. But at least I know I’m learning something, and knowing what I’m learning helps me to make the right choices when things happen. And, through all these things I’m learning to pray. One of my amazing friends, Susan, gave me a good called For the Family by Sylvia Gunter. It’s about praying. It’s incredible. I’m learning to pray, to stand on the wall and fight for my family, my life, our lives. It’s sometimes hard to find time, especially when Kai decides to wake up when I get up (usually around 5am). But, prayer is powerful and effective. The more I pray, the more God can work. He changes me first, and when I change, so do my circumstances (or at least my perspective of my circumstances). It reminds me of a book called Piercing the Darkness by Frank Peretti. He tells a story about a woman, and then weaves into it the same story from a heavenly/spiritual perspective. He shows what the angels and demons make of our responses to things. Prayer energizes, strengthens, and gives God more ways to work. When we pray, battles are won by the Light, lives are saved, we are protected, and great thins can happen. But we can’t pray. We must pray. If you haven’t read Piercing the Darkness or This Present Darkness, I highly recommend doing so. It might change the way you view your life and the importance of prayer.