What do we want to be: scrap metal or sharpened sword?
There once was a blacksmith who, after a youth full of vices, decided to give his soul to God. For many years he worked with ardor and practiced charity; however, despite all his dedication, it seemed that nothing was going well in his life. On the contrary, his problems and debts grew by the day. One beautiful evening, a friend who felt compassion for his difficult situation visited him and said to him: “It is very strange that, after you have decided to change and become a God-fearing man, your life has begun to get worse. I don't want to diminish your hope, but despite your faith in spiritual things, you haven't improved in anything.”
The blacksmith did not reply immediately, for he had thought about this many times without understanding what was happening in his life. But, as he wanted to give an answer to his friend, he began to speak and ended up finding what he was looking for. This is what he said: “In this workshop I receive the iron before it is worked, and I have to transform it into swords. Do you know how swords are made? First the iron is heated to an infernal heat until it becomes bright red. Immediately afterwards, without any mercy, I take the heaviest hammer I have and begin to beat it until the piece takes the desired shape. Immediately after, I dip it into a bucket full of cold water, and the whole workshop fills with noise and steam because the very hot piece immersed in cold water crackles due to the violent change in temperature. I have to repeat this operation several times if I want to get a perfect sword, one time is not enough.”
The blacksmith paused for a while then continued: “Sometimes the iron the I have in hand does not endure the process. The heat, the beating, and the cold water fill it with cracks. And it is in that moment I realize that it will never turn into a beautiful sword blade, and I toss it into the pile of scrap iron that you see at the entrance to my workshop.”
Pausing one last time, the blacksmith concluded: “I know that God is putting me into the fire of suffering. I accept the beatings that he gives me in life, and sometimes I feel so cold and numb like that water that makes the iron suffer. But, the only thing I think is: ‘My God, do not stop until I take the form that you intend for me. Let me take it in the way that you think is best; take as long as you want, but do not throw me into the pile of scrap metal!’”
And what about us? What do we want to be? Like scrap metal or a sharpened sword?