Jacob's Night In The Hardrock Motel

In THAT PLACE you could use a friendly voice, an understanding voice, but friendly and understanding do not exist here. Rocks exist here, and plenty of them.

What to do? Here is one man’s discovery.

A Jewish Psychologist named Victor Frankl discovered a great truth in the midst of a German concentration camp during WWII. While seeking to survive the horror of his imprisonment, Frankl began observing his fellow prisoners in hope of discovering what coping mechanism would help him endure this horrendous existence. What Frankl discovered was this. Those individuals who could not accept what was happening to them, who could not make their present suffering fit with their faith, who could not find it’s meaning in their world view…they despaired, lost hope, and eventually gave up and died. But those individuals that could find a meaning from their faith, were then able to find hope for a future beyond their present suffering, and so could accept what they were enduring as part of their existence, and they survived.

In our story of Jacob, he does something. He took the stone, "and put them for pillows." Not everyone can do this. The opportunity, the potential, is available to everyone. But not everyone can do this because the way one views the stones will determine what use is made of them. Stones can be used as missiles to hurl at others in what is well known as "the blame game." Stones can be used as ballast to weigh one down to sink beneath the waters of self-pity and failure.

However, stones can be used to create a strong foundation to support a new building. Or, stones may become part of the actual building. Stones can never be converted into a downy-soft featherbed. Life is never that easy. But they may become a pillow for a weary mind and body IF IT IS BELIEVED THEY CAN BE. Victor Frankl, further describing his experience in the Nazi death camp said, "They striped me naked. They took everything—my wedding ring, watch. I stood there naked and all of a sudden realized at that moment that although they could take everything away from me—my wife, my family, my possessions—they could not take away my freedom to choose how I was going to respond.

Thomas Carlyle, the noted historian, had just spent two years writing a book on the French Revolution. On the day he finished his manuscript he gave his only copy to a colleague, John Stuart Mill, to read and critique. But, then the unthinkable occurred. Mill’s servant used Carlyle’s manuscript as kindling to start a fire. As Mill reported the devastating news, Carlyle’s face paled. Two years of his life were lost. Thousands of long, lonely hours he spent writing had been wasted. He could not imagine writing the book again. He lapsed into a deep depression. Then one day while walking the city streets, Carlyle noticed a stone wall under construction. He was transfixed. That tall sweeping wall was being raised one brick at a time. It was a moment of inspiration for him. If he wrote one page at a time, one day at a time, he could write the book again. And that is exactly what he did.