House Church Talk - Life comes in fragments

[David Anderson]

My friend Jim Sutton writes stories and I am glad to see him here again. 
Hi Jim! This piece reminded me of you.

Well, "Those who study providences will find providences to study," one 
said. The story below demonstrates that. Who can know His ways?

    David Anderson

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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 you¹ve been cursed with misfortune." 

The old man responded, "Don¹t 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 can¹t say. All we can see is a fragment. Who can say what will come 
next?" 

The people of the village laughed, thinking the man crazy. They'd always 
thought he was a fool; if he wasn't he would have sold the horse and 
lived off the money. Instead he was a poor woodcutter, and 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; he¹d 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? Don¹t say this is a blessing. No one knows. I 
am content with what I know. I am not perturbed by what I don¹t." 

"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 an only son, who began to break the wild horses. After a 
few days, he fell from one of the horses and broke both legs. Once again 
the villages 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 have only a fragment. Life comes in 
fragments." 

So it happened that a few weeks later the country engaged in a 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 they would return. The enemy was strong and the war would 
likely be a losing cause. 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."

Max Lucado, "The Woodcutter's Wisdom," In the Eye of the Storm, cited in 
Charles R. Swindoll, The Tale of the Tardy Oxcart  (Nashville, TN: Word 
Publishing, 1998), 613-615