Rock of Ages
The following story was written by JD Jackson. A school friend of my youngest son, I’ve known JD. since he was a teenager. Watching him grow into a husband and father has been a privilege. JD has always been a family man, devoted to the love and care of his mother, sisters, and nephew. In all the years I’ve known him, the thing that stands out most to me is his determined pursuit of Jesus. Attending ministry school, preaching, teaching, going on outreaches, his heart for the Lord is evident.
In recent years, JD and I discovered a mutual love of writing and have enjoyed discussing the craft and our passion for good storytelling. Earlier this year, JD entered the Writer’s Digest 94th Annual Writing Competition. His story, “Rock of Ages”, won an honorable mention in the inspirational/spiritual category. I’m honored to share JD’s story with my readers. I know you’ll enjoy it.
For centuries, he sat atop the mountain. The world stretched before him—the winding river, the endless sky, the gentle whisper of the wind. He was strong, jagged, unmoving. A piece of the earth itself. A thing of permanence. Then, one day, the ground shifted. The world tilted beneath him. And he fell. The fall wasn’t quick. He tumbled from ledge to ledge, breaking off tiny pieces of himself as he crashed downward. And when it was over, he was no longer on the mountain. He lay at the bottom of the river.
The water was relentless. It pressed against him, rolled him, smoothed his edges. The roughness that had once defined him was slowly, mercilessly, taken away. For the first time, he knew fear. For the first time, he wondered if God had cast him away. He was no longer what he had been. He was smaller. Softer. And he hated it. Time passed. A hundred years. Then another. The river never stopped. He wondered if he had been forgotten. Had his suffering meant nothing? Had he fallen for no reason? Had God abandoned him? The rock no longer hoped for answers.
“He understood. This is why he had been broken.”
But then, one day, a boy came to the river. The boy was young, ruddy, and full of life. He did not rush. Instead, he sat by the river’s edge and played a song on his lyre. The melody was soft, golden, filled with longing and joy alike. It stirred something in the rock—a memory of the mountain, of wind and sky, of how the world had once felt vast and endless. And then, the boy began picking stones from the riverbed. One by one, he examined them. The rock watched. Waited. And then—a hand closed around him. It was not cruel like the river. It was rough, but gentle. And for the first time in a long, long while, the rock did not feel forgotten. The rock tumbled in the boy’s bag as he moved. The world outside roared with the sounds of men, of war, of shouting voices. And then, suddenly—light.
The boy’s hand closed around him once more. He was lifted. The boy’s voice rose against the giant standing before him. The rock heard no fear in his voice. And then— He was placed into a leather sling. He understood. This is why he had been broken. This is why he had been smoothed. This is why he had been taken. Not to be abandoned. Not to be forgotten. But to be made for this moment. The sling spun. Faster. Faster. The boy released. The rock flew. He struck with force beyond measure. He shattered. And in the moment of his breaking, he felt whole. His suffering had not been in vain. His hardships had not been without purpose. He had been crafted for this. As he faded into dust, he did not curse the river. He did not curse the fall, the smoothing, the loss. He only whispered a single thought into the wind. Thank You.
JD Jackson is a civil servant and emerging author whose short fiction has earned recognition, including an Honorable Mention in the 94th Annual Writer’s Digest Competition. A college Dean’s List achiever despite never finishing high school, he counts his greatest successes as his marriage and son. Known for his balance of wit, wonder, and heart, JD writes to pull his dreams into the physical world.