A Field of Stones
Chris looked around Mr. Brown’s big farm. It was his first day of work, and he was excited. “Oh, boy!” thought Chris. “I wish I could drive one of those tractors.”
Mr. Brown led the way over to a big green John Deere. “This is a very powerful machine,” he said, setting his hand on the huge mud-splattered wheel. “It’s not a toy. You can knock over buildings and electric poles with this thing.”
“Yes, sir!” Chris said quickly. He could just imagine himself with his hands on the levers! His foster parents never trusted Chris with anything at home, but today he would show them all.
The farmer’s voice pulled him back to earth. “Well, Chris, let me show you your work for today.” He led the way across the yard to the edge of a big field. As far as Chris could see there was gray, lumpy ground. Mr. Brown picked up a dirty five-gallon bucket and began filling it with stones. “Before we plant, we have to clear the field,” he said. “Dump the stones in this wagon and we’ll haul it off when it’s full.” With a loud rattle the farmer emptied the bucket and handed it to Chris.
Chris looked around. The field was full of stones! It almost seemed as if they grew there. Mr. Brown watched as Chris shoved stones into the bucket and carried it to the wagon. He had to try twice before he could swing the bucket up to dump it. When he looked up Mr. Brown was nodding.
“That’s the ticket,” he said. “You might find it hard work at first, but you’ll toughen up.”
Chris watched as the farmer drove the tractor into the next field. He was plowing, and the powerful purr of the motor sounded like music to Chris. Except it didn’t make him feel very happy. He stared at the wagon. It was going to take a long, long time to fill it.
“Maybe I’ll get to drive the tractor if I do a good job!” he thought suddenly. In a moment he had turned into a human stone carrier. Back and forth, from the field to the wagon, he staggered. Soon it seemed to Chris that he had lugged more stones than anyone in the whole world. But every bucket of stones seemed to fill that wagon like you would fill up a swimming pool with spoonfuls of water.
Chris’ back and arms began to ache. “I’m going to kill myself trying to fill this old wagon,” he muttered. He watched sullenly as the tractor made another turn in the field and turned toward him. Halfheartedly Chris dipped the bucket into a hollow and tossed in a couple rocks. Clunk, clunk. The bucket was only a quarter full when he straightened up. A lighter load was better than nothing, right?
The rest of the morning Chris walked back and forth with the bucket. Sometimes only a dozen rocks went in, sometimes a few more. “Well,” Chris thought rebelliously, “Mr. Brown never saw me work before. He’ll think I’m doing the best that I can.” Of course, the pile in the wagon grew slower than ever.
Chris was glad to take a break for lunch. In fact, he wished he could take a break from stone-carrying forever. As he stumbled back to the field, he heard the farmer call, “I’ll be checking on your progress in half an hour!”
“Mr. Brown didn’t even notice all the work I’ve done,” Chris grumbled. “He acts like it’s easy!” Slowly he began loading another bucket. This time only five stones went in. But the strange thing was, the bucket felt heavier than all the others. That was because Chris wasn’t just hauling stones. He was hauling a huge load of resentment, too. “Mr. Brown treats me like a slave,” he muttered, angrily.
The more Chris walked across that field of stones, the madder he got. “I’m not a mule,” he thought over and over. “I’m good enough to drive that tractor. Nobody ever gives me a break. I’ll show them!” And he did. Instead of picking up the stones, he began kicking them. He wished that he dared throw them at the farmer. But he didn’t. He was afraid of the police and jail. And losing his pay.
“Mr. Brown probably won’t even pay me for all this hard work,” he muttered, gloom filling his mind. “No one ever treats me right. Even my mom left me to live with strangers. No one will ever love me or appreciate me. No one.”
That terrible thought made Chris stand still. In the silence he suddenly realized that he couldn’t hear the roar of the tractor anymore. Chris looked around. There it was, parked by the edge of the field. The farmer was no where to be seen.
The big machine seemed to call him. “I’m not stupid,” Chris told himself. “Mr. Brown just doesn’t know what I can do. I need to show him.” He took a step toward the tractor. Did he dare?
Just then he noticed a movement down by the big farm buildings. Mr. Brown was coming, and a shorter guy was with him. The farmer pointed toward the tractor and the boy nodded his head. “It’s probably his son,” Chris muttered to himself. “He probably gets to ride the tractor anytime he wants to!”
Chris turned his back and picked up the dirty old bucket. Clunk, thunk. He tossed in a couple stones. When he heard the tractor start up, he gave a quick glance over his shoulder. Sure enough, that little guy was actually operating the tractor by himself! Chris didn’t look up when the farmer came to watch him dump his load of stones into the wagon. He felt like a stone himself.
“Going kind of slow, isn’t it?” Mr. Brown said, as he looked down at the thin layer of stones that covered the bottom. “I’ll have Andy help you when he finishes that field.”
Chris didn’t want Andy to help him. “I don’t need any ‘Junior Brown’ to tell me how to work!” Chris told himself.
He was staring at the gray field when the shorter boy joined him. “Wowee!” Andy exclaimed. “Last winter sure raised a crop of knuckle-busters in this field.” He was carrying three five-gallon pails. He handed one to Chris. Then, with rapid, scooping motions, he raked the other two pails full of stones and walked quickly to the wagon. There was the thundering roar of twin stone waterfalls, and just as quickly as that, Andy was back scooping up more stones.
“I’m not going to be beat by a little squirt like him,” Chris told himself. Trying to imitate the smaller boy’s method, he scrabbled at the stones in the field. Chris staggered to his feet, but he could hardly lift his two loaded buckets at once. Half dragging, half carrying them, he passed Andy returning from his third trip to wagon.
As Chris dumped his second bucket of stones into the wagon, he noticed how rapidly the wagon was filling. The resentment he had felt toward “Junior Brown” was beginning to be replaced with admiration. “That guy must be some kind of stone-carrying champion,” he muttered to himself.
And Andy was a talker, too. “Wowee,” he said, “at this rate, we’ll fill up this wagon today. Mr. Brown will be so pleased.”
“You’re not related to Mr. Brown?” Chris asked in surprise.
“Sure!” Andy said, scooping up another load. “Just like you are!”
“What!” Chris said. “I’m not related to him.”
“Sure you are!” Andy said. “We’re all related to each other though Adam and Eve, and Noah, too. I know, I used to think I didn’t have any kinfolks around. Since I was an orphan, I figured nobody loved me.”
“Well, nobody likes me,” Chris began.
“Oh, no! You’re wrong about that!” Andy exclaimed. “It’s true that most people just love themselves, and a few of their nearest relations. That’s because the devil has gotten most of us crossed up with each other. It wasn’t until I met some of God’s people that I realized that there are folks who really love everybody in the human family.”
“I’ve never met anybody like that,” Chris said.
“Yes, you have! Mr. Brown loves everybody.”
“Mr. Brown doesn’t love me,” Chris said bitterly. “He won’t even let me drive the tractor.” He stopped. He hadn’t really meant to say that. It just kind of came out.
Andy laughed. “Hooh, boy! You ought to have seen me when I came here,” he said. “I couldn’t wait to get on that tractor. In fact, I didn’t wait.” He set down his full buckets and pointed toward the barn. It was green, but the middle section was brighter than the other parts. “That’s where I drove the tractor through,” Andy said ruefully.
“What happened?” Chris wanted to know.
“I was supposed to be picking up stones, just like you,” Andy continued. “But I figured Mr. Brown would never give me a chance to do anything else unless I ‘proved my abilities,’ so I decided to get my hands on the controls to show him what I could do.”
Chris looked at the smaller guy in surprise. “Just like me,” he thought. Then he quickly began filling his buckets, wondering if Andy had read his mind. But the other boy kept right on talking.
“I really showed them, all right. I wrecked the barn, almost ran over Mrs. Brown, killed several of her hens, and destroyed a lot of feed and fertilizer. Oh, yes! I almost forgot—I broke the main water line to the barn, as well. I really showed them just how trustworthy I was!”
“Mr. Brown asked me if I was hurt,” Andy remembered in a tone of wonder. “I told him I was sorry, I wasn’t really sorry that I had done it—just for how stupid I looked. I wanted to leave right then, but the Browns wouldn’t think of it. They set me to work repairing the damages and treated me like a son. I couldn’t get it.”
“You didn’t get in trouble?” Chris asked in surprise.
“Trouble?” Andy repeated, as he returned from dumping his buckets. “Boy, the funny thing is that Mr. Brown got me out of trouble. You see, it wasn’t until I met him that I realized how bad off I really was, living for myself and all. When the Browns took me in I didn’t know what love was. It was like my heart was a field of stones, and Mr. Brown was the first person that cared enough to start hauling them off.”
Chris wiped the sweat from his forehead and heaved a bucket onto the edge of the wagon. “We’re actually filling it up!” he said in surprise. The gray mound of rocks nearly reached the top now.
“Sure we are, man!” Andy said, adding two more bucket loads.
They stood back to admire their work, and suddenly Chris felt a bit proud that he had a part in it. And to be counted a “man” by his new friend. “I guess there will be one load less of rock in this field,” he said, stretching his weary muscles.
“Another week of work and it will be ready for plowing. Come fall, we’ll be enjoying the ‘fruit of our labors,’ as Mr. Brown says,” Andy added, looking over the field. “He has hopes of a good harvest this year.”
The ground before them lay lumpy and bare in the late afternoon sun. “I didn’t think a field of stones could be changed like that,” Chris said, shaking his head.
“Sure it can!” A smile filled Andy’s face. “There’s hope for a field—and for me and you, brother. That’s because God really cares about you and He isn’t giving up.”
Life is like a field of stones, but it is our choice how we respond.
- Do you get angry because things don’t seem fair?
- What was the problem with Chris’s attitude?
- What were the “rocks” in his life?
- Why did Andy say that Mr. Brown helped him out of trouble?
- How is God like that?
- Read John 3:16-21. Are you receiving God’s love?