The Armorer

[So here's a little parable I wrote a couple years back, with minimal editing. Please comment and share this so others can see it.]

Back in the time of swords and spears; back in the time of bows and arrows; back
in the time where God and science were one. Back in the time of the Medieval era, there
was an Armorer. He had been taught by his master how to make armor, as his master
before, and his master before that, and so on. He had been taught things about making
armor that were as old as armor itself.
But he had been taught more than that. He had been taught things about mankind,
those who would wear his armor, that were as old, and older, than man itself. He had
been taught about God, and how to listen to him.

And now, in this time, there was a war going on. This war had been raging for
generations. And this armorer, and his fathers before him, had been making armor for the
soldiers. But they made no ordinary armor. When they made armor, they were lead by
God, to make armor that would fit the exact needs of the one who would wear it. And for
generations this armor had been accepted. But now it was no more.
The armor that this armorer made was shaped irregularly; it was hard to move
properly. The armor had been designed to protect a certain thing at a certain time, as God
had intended. The armor was designed for a single moment, to protect them from the one
blow that would end their life. But the soldiers didn’t care, they wanted the new armor.
This armor was light, covered everything evenly, and looked better. It was made faster,
and they were all the same.

But there was one soldier who was different than all the other soldiers. He
believed that what the armorer made was better, better because it was designed by God.
His father had taught him about God, and told him stories about how He has a plan, how
He is wiser than all of man. And he believed that there was a plan with this armor. But he
didn’t understand his plan up to this point. He had been a peaceful farmer his whole life.
Yet he was drafted into the military. He hadn’t seen his wife in years, didn’t even know if
he would ever have any kids. But he knew there was a reason.
This soldier went to the armorer, and asked for a piece of special armor. The
armorer was glad to have someone who was willing to put their trust in his armor, and
God. So the armorer took his time making it. He took several days praying and seeking
out what this armor should look like. And then, after many more days, he presented the
armor to the soldier. Both the armorer and the soldier had been disappointed when they
had seen it the first time, the armorer while he was making it, and the soldier when it was
given to him. The armor was only a three inch thick circle of steel, only about as wide as
a fist. He was told to strap it over his stomach. He thanked the armorer, then he went off
to war.

The soldier fought with this awkward armor for many days. Then one day the
army was trying to hold a village. Reinforcements were hours away. They had been fighting all day. Fathers, brothers, sons, husbands, friends, even woman and children
had all died in the fighting that happened that day. The rest of the soldiers were fighting
great. With their modern armor, they could get hit and shrug it off. They could fight
freely, without restraint or being thrown off balance. But they weren’t protected from the
one fatal blow that would always end their life. But this soldier only had his one piece
of ridiculous armor. He was getting cut and beat up left and right. He had almost no
protection.
Near the end of the day, when no one thought they could go on any longer, and
that reinforcements would never come, a boy was seen crying in a burnt hut. He was
only a few years old, but he was crying loud. And an enemy soldier heard this boy, and
became irritated. So he aimed a crossbow, the most advanced weapon of the time, a
weapon that allowed a soldier with almost no training to kill a heavily armored knight,
who had been trained his whole life, in one shot. He took aim at the boy, and was about
to fire. But the soldier, the one with the strange piece of armor, ran and covered the boy
with his body.
Then the crossbow was fired. It went straight though the soldier with ease. But it
became imbedded in the armor, the specially designed armor. The bolt was stuck halfway
through the steel, the steel that was directly above the little boy. After the bolt struck,
many other bolts and arrows started to fire. But they were all fired at enemy soldiers.
The reinforcements they had been waiting for had finally come! But the soldier, as he lay
there dying, wondered how this armor was so special. It hadn’t protected him at all. Then
he looked at the child in his arms, the child that would live because of his armor, and
knew why the armor was so special. Or did he?

What that soldier didn’t know, and what the boy found out later, was that that boy
was his son. When the father had been drafted into the army, he had left his wife home
pregnant. But he didn’t know that. And with time, the mother wasn’t able to work, so she
moved in with some distant family members in a village many weeks journey away. And
that boy had been growing up in that village. Then one day, a group of soldiers came to
defend that village. A village full of woman and children, including the mother and son.
And one of the soldiers defending that village was wearing a very odd piece of armor. A
single circle of steel about as wide as a fist and three inches thick over his stomach.
And near the end of that day, most everyone in that village had been killed.
Soldier, peasant, man, woman, adult and child alike. Only a few were still alive. Those
few, amongst others, included the soldier, the boy, and the mother. The next day, a list of
all causalities was taken up. It was found that all male descendants of all the soldiers had
died in that battle, except the son of that one soldier. The one soldier who still accepted
the plan of God. And that soldier was the only soldier of that day whose bloodline
continued. And continues now.

And now, if any of these things were to happen you, what would you do? Would
you still do what God had designed you to do, even if no one accepts you for doing it?
Would you still follow Gods plan, even if no one else around you does? If someone were
to give their life for you, would you want to make that sacrifice worth it?
Who are you in this story? Are you the armorer? The soldier? The son? Are you
some one else in this story? I hope that reading this changes yours or somebody else’s
life, or makes them see things in a new light. Or teaches them something new, maybe
something about God? I’ve learned some things in writing this, and now I’m passing this
on to you, and whoever you pass this on to, and so on. Am I the armorer? Or had God
passed this on to me, like the soldier passed life on to his son? That’s something for me to
learn. And I hope you learn your place to.