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Once there was a nail. He had been a faithful nail, always allowing himself to be driven by the hammer into the wood. But in his heart, he disliked the hammer. He thought of the hammer as a brutal master—an enemy whose joy in life seemed to be to beat it into submission.
The hammer, too had his own misgivings. He was getting tired of constantly having to pound on this nail. There were other nails whose heads seemed softer, easier to drive into the wood, but was he given the task of having to pound this particular nail? And why he?
The nail had a correct view of the hammer. The hammer also had a correct view of the nail but both of them forgot one thing. They forgot that both the nail and the hammer are held by the same workman. The workman decides whose “head” will be pounded out of sight...and which hammer will be used to do the job.
Our hammers and nails come in many disguises: a severed friendship, a rebelling son, a wayward daughter, a doctor's diagnosis, rapidly dwindling finances, depression, an extremely difficult decision, an oppressive boss , a wearisome co-worker, a controlling husband, a pathologically jealous wife, a lingering illness, an untimely death, a failing grade, a broken home.
But our hammers and nails could speak if we let them speak. Give them a mouth and let them answer your questions. What do I get from having you around? What did I do to bring you here? What should I have done in a different way? Are my priorities wrong? Did I abuse my body? Is the direction of my emotions out of my control? What can I do better next time?
Someone said that what marks our own generation is the fact that modern man thinks there is nobody home in the universe. When we realize that someone IS home, we accept. When we accept, we relax. When we relax, we let go. When we let go we move on.
Max Lucado has a story about a man who was a nail and his own encounter with him. But this man had a different view of his hammer.
He was a blind beggar in the streets of Brazil . He had a cane in his left hand and his right hand was open, extended, awaiting donations. But the strange thing was he was singing. Not just singing but singing loud. And singing proudly. And sincerely.
Fascinated, Max went up to him and asked him if he had had any lunch. The blind man stopped singing. He turned his head toward the sound of the voice. Max could see that the man's eye sockets were empty. He answered and said he was hungry. So Max bought him a sandwich and a cold drink and brought him to a nearby bench and they sat down together.
The man said he was 28, was single, living with his parents and seven brothers. Max asked him, “Were you born blind?” He answered, “No, when I was young I had an accident. “ Max looked a little more closely. His shoes had holes and his coat was oversized. His pants gaped open from a rip in the knee. And still he sang. Though he was a sightless, penniless pauper, he had found a song and sang it courageously. Somehow, this eyeless mendicant had discovered a candle called satisfaction and it glowed in his dark world. Someone had taught him that tomorrow's joys are fathered by today's acceptance. Acceptance of what, at least for the moment, you cannot alter.
The man had no degree, no diploma, no awards, and what looked like no future,-- in the aggressive sense of the word-- but he seemed to be the most peaceful man on the street.
Max turned to him and said, “Life is hard, isn't it?” The man smiled slightly. He said, “I'd better get back to work.” Max watched him go. Here was a sightless man who was remarkably insightful. And Max the man with eyes was given a new vision by a man with none.
The blind man. He was the nail. His blindness was his hammer. But he was not bitter or angry. Are you a nail? Or perhaps a hammer? Remember. The workman is the Carpenter. Tell yourself four things:
First, my Carpenter brought me here. Second, he will keep me here as long as he wants. Third, he will make this workbench an instructor, teaching me lessons he wants me to learn. And fourth, in his good time he will bring me out again—how and when, he knows.
Failing to see the hand of the Carpenter makes us think that the hammers and nails are the enemy. We become like Jacob of the Bible, wrestling with what we think is our foe, not realizing that what opposes us in life, what makes us struggle and huff and heave, is after all not an enemy but a friend in disguise. (Gen 32:22-30) The secret in life is to realize that our circumstances fall into the greater plan and work of the trustworthy Carpenter.