Many years ago, my husband shared this tale with me. Since then, it has been added to my little "bag of treasures" and call it one of my "nuggets" in life. A nugget, to me, are those things that you happen across in life that change you, or speak to you and they are special. You KNOW you will have to save "it". It is not only for now but you know you will use it again later.I liken these "nuggets" unto doing a puzzle. Have you ever done a really tough puzzle? You are looking for that ONE piece. You look and look and you KNOW you will recognize it when you see it. Well, maybe you find it that day, and maybe you don't but either way, when the day comes and you do find it, you KNOW it and you know EXACTLY where to put it.
See, as I stumble across things in my life and I KNOW they are important and I KNOW I need to save them, I "pick them up" and place them in my imaginary bag that holds all my "nuggets" or "treasures". Then, one day, I draw from that bag with just the RIGHT piece needed for that day or for that situation! I save it. I hold it. I keep it. Then when needed, I apply it!
God gives me "nuggets" or these "pieces" sometimes for me, sometimes for you, sometimes ... well, I don't know yet, but I do know to hold onto them and I am certain that one day, ALL these little pieces will be assembled and it will be a beautiful Mosaic of my life. I pray that it resembles HIM!So, here is one of my FAVORITE "nuggets"! I pray you are as blessed by it as I was and am!
The Woodcutter's Wisdom
by Max Lucado
Nor would I.
Good judgement requires a broad picture. Not only is that true in purchasing houses, cars, and books, it’s true in evaluating life. One failure doesn’t make a person a failure; one achievement doesn’t make a person a success.
"The end of the matter is better than its beginning," (1) penned the sage.
"Be…patient in affliction," (2) echoed the apostle Paul.
"Don’t judge a phrase by one word," stated the woodcutter.
The woodcutter? Oh, you may not know him. Let me present him to you.
I met him in Brazil. He was introduced to me by a friend who knew that I needed patience. Denalyn and I were six months into a five-year stint in Brazil, and I was frustrated. My fascination with Rio de Janeiro had turned into exasperation with words. I couldn’t speak and a culture I didn’t understand.
"Tenha Paciência," Maria would tell me. "Just be patient." She was my Portuguese instructor. But, more than that, she was a calm voice in a noisy storm. With maternal persistence, she corrected my pronunciation and helped me to love her homeland.
Once, in the midst of a frustrating week of trying to get our goods out of customs (which eventually took three months), she gave me this story as a homework assignment. It helped my attitude far more than it helped my Portuguese.
It’s a simple fable. Yet for those of us who try to pass judgment on life with only one day’s evidence, the message is profound. I’ve done nothing to embellish it; I’ve only translated it. I pray that it will remind you, as it did me, that patience is the greater courage.
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(1) Ecclesiastes 7:8
(2) Romans 12:12
* * *
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 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 judgements.
"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. Yours 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 judgement 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." (3)
He should know. He is the author of our story. And he has already written the final chapter.
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(3) Matthew 6:34