Abraham: One Nomad's Amazing Journey of Faith

by Charles R. Swindoll

The late Billy Rose, a syndicated columnist of yesteryear, wrote a short story that drives home the point for me. It helped me change the way I viewed time, circumstances, the world, and my place in it. There was once a fellow who, with his dad, farmed a little piece of land. Several times a year they would load up the old ox-drawn cart with vegetables and go into the nearest city to sell their produce. Except for their name and the patch of ground, father and son had little in common. The old man believed in taking it easy. The boy was usually in a hurry . . . the go-getter type. One morning bright and early, they hitched up the ox to the loaded cart and started on the long journey. The son figured that if they walked faster, kept going all day and night, they’d make the market by early the next morning. So he kept prodding the ox with a stick, urging the beast to get a move on. “Take it easy, son,” said the old man. “You’ll last longer.” “But if we get to market ahead of the others, we’ll have a better chance of getting good prices,” argued the son. No reply. Dad just pulled his hat down over his eyes and fell asleep on the seat. Itchy and irritated, the young man kept goading the ox to walk faster. His stubborn pace refused to change. Four hours and four miles down the road, they came to a little house. The father woke up, smiled, and said, “Here’s your uncle’s place. Let’s stop in and say hello.” “But we’ve lost an hour already,” complained the hotshot. “Then a few mor...