Rebuilding a Broken Man

By Brad Dixon

Mistakes ruined a man, took him to his knees. Death - never far - brought him to life. Can a man’s failures help others succeed? Can his life - taught as lessons - change others, too? Will those he taught learn about themselves… through him?

• Language: English
• Publisher: CrossLink Publishing
• Release date: Sep 21, 2015
• ISBN: 9781633570535

Book preview

Rebuilding a Broken Man

Brad Dixon

Rebuilding a Broken Man

CrossLink Publishing

www.crosslinkpublishing.com

Copyright, © 2015 Brad Dixon

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in reviews, without the written permission of the author.

Printed in the United States of America. All rights reserved under International Copyright Law.

ISBN978-1-63357-053-5

All scripture quotations are taken from THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

Contents

Chapter One: An Old Man

Chapter Two: Integrity

Chapter Three: Peace

Chapter Four: Self-Honesty

Chapter Five: Respect

Chapter Six: Generosity

Chapter Seven: Service

Chapter Eight: Encouragement

Questions for Chapter

One, An Old Man

Questions for Chapter

Two, Integrity

Questions for Chapter

Three, Peace

Questions for Chapter

Four, Self-Honesty

Questions for Chapter

Five, Respect

Questions for Chapter

Six, Generosity

Questions for Chapter

Seven, Service

Questions for Chapter

Eight, Encouragement

An Old Man

I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do —

this I keep on doing.

Romans 7:18b – 19

Five men slumped at a scarred, wax-rubbed table. An iron knife lay on a clay platter at the head of the table.

Light spilled in from windows in thick block walls. Everything in the room was fashioned from rock, wood, baked clay, or cloth. The walls, windows, floor, and furniture were clean. Dust floated in sunbeams from the east windows.

The men talked, whispered, and laughed. Arriving early in the morning, they wondered who was in charge and if they would be fed.

A man in a gray robe with high collar and hood had let them in through a gate at a wall that surrounded the house and garden. His head deep within the hood, the men could barely see his dark-bearded face. He took them to a room in the house and told them to change their clothes. He gave them robes with roughly woven fabric. They matched his robe: clean but not new, with nicks, snags, and wear.

When will we get our clothes back? asked one of the men.

Before you go home, was the man’s answer. He took them to another room in the large house.

Take a seat at the table, he said. He pulled the hood for it to hang down his back.

The room had a high ceiling, higher than any the men had ever seen. Plaster leaves and grapes covered the seam where the ceiling and wall met. The green paint on the leaves was chipped and faded. The grapes may have once been purple, but were now the color of a pale blue sky. Other than the plasterwork the room was severe, with straight lines and edges. The house was old and built with limestone blocks. The scrubbed and mopped tile floor showed streaks of dry soap.

The men jerked as the tall wooden door opened. It was the only entrance to the room and they could have expected it to swing open. Still, they were surprised. The man who helped them with their robes when they arrived now held the door for another, older man. He walked with a cane shaped from a knobby limb worn smooth by years of use. He took quick, limping steps. He also wore a gray robe. The hood to his robe lay on his back and a white beard dropped to his chest. A bulging cloth bag with a strap hung over his neck and shoulder and bumped against his side.

He glanced at the group then sat at the head of the table.

Here, he said, waving. I want two of you on this side, close to me. Three of you on the other side. I want all of you close to me. The wooden chairs rattled as they moved to the places the old man directed.

He twisted in his chair to look in a far corner. It held a small table with an oil lamp. The table sat next to a large, wide chair with black and red embroidered cloth on the seat, back, and arms. The old man stared at the chair for a few moments, then spoke to the younger man at the door.

This is good, he said. I will be all right.

Call if you need me, said the first man. Or send one of these good men.

You are a wonderful monk, said the old man, to which the man bowed and left the room.

The old man looked back to the five men. Some returned his gaze, and others avoided it. Though they had thoughts and questions, they were uncertain of whether to speak. Each waited for another to be first.

The old man reached into the bag slung around his neck, pulled out a fresh loaf of bread, and placed it on the large clay platter.

I am not much good anymore, but I can slice a loaf of bread. He stood the round loaf on its side and sawed it in half. Then he put the two halves back together—one on top of the other. He handed the knife to the man on his right.

Cut both pieces of bread all the way through. I want four pieces of bread the same size.

The man took the wooden handle and sliced the bread as he had been asked.

Good, he said, taking the knife back. He examined it, turning it to see each side.

I wonder, he said. The men were silent, watching each move. Now you take the knife, he said to the one on his left. Cut one of the pieces again. Cut it in half. Cut it clean.

The old man repeated his instructions and each man sawed at the bread. As they did, the old man examined the newly cut pieces. At the end, there was a platter full of bread. The old man sighed and pushed the platter back to the center of the table.

Thank you, he said. You have started well, polite and quiet.

The old, white-bearded fellow pushed his chair back and stood with his cane. He went to the other end of the table and