A Rolling Stone Gathers No Dust

 

By Richard G. Medlock

Ladies and gentlemen, I recently discovered that the English language is evolving faster than the dictionary can keep up with it. I asked a room full of bright young people to finish one of the oldest sayings in the English language: "A rolling stone gathers no..." I was expecting someone to say "moss." Instead, without the slightest hesitation, they shouted, "Dust!" It was unanimous. I stood there wondering whether I had become old enough that history itself had been revised without informing me.

The more I considered their answer, however, the less certain I became that they were wrong. After all, have you ever noticed what collects dust? The treadmill you promised yourself you'd use after New Year's. The guitar you were going to master. The book you've been "meaning to read." The exercise machine that has become the world's most expensive clothes rack. Dust is remarkably democratic. It settles on unused talent, postponed dreams, and excellent intentions with equal enthusiasm. If dust were running for public office, it would win by a landslide.

Now consider the rolling stone. It has no time for dust. It is too busy bouncing down hills, startling squirrels, and occasionally convincing someone at the bottom of the hill that they should have chosen another picnic location. Motion has its inconveniences, but it has one tremendous advantage—it leaves very little opportunity for stagnation.

I've noticed that people often resemble stones. Some roll through life collecting experiences, wisdom, friendships, and stories that become richer with every passing year. Others become permanent fixtures in the landscape. They proudly announce, "I don't like change." Well, neither does a cemetery, but that's hardly the standard to aspire to.

The funny thing about comfort is that it often disguises itself as wisdom. We tell ourselves, "I'll start tomorrow." Tomorrow, however, is a curious fellow. He arrives every morning but somehow always insists that the important work begin the following day. If procrastination were an Olympic event, many of us would postpone entering until the next Games.

Failure frightens people far more than standing still, yet standing still is often the greater danger. A man who never climbs a mountain cannot fall from the summit—but neither will he ever witness the sunrise from the peak. A fellow who never asks a question will avoid looking foolish for five minutes and remain ignorant for fifty years. It seems to me that life has always rewarded those willing to risk a little embarrassment in exchange for a great deal of growth.

History has never been changed by spectators. Noah built the ark before it rained. David walked toward Goliath while everyone else was backing away. The Wright brothers looked at birds and concluded that envy was an insufficient response. Every worthwhile accomplishment began with someone moving while everyone else was explaining why movement was impractical.

Faith itself is a rolling stone. It grows stronger by being exercised. Courage grows by being tested. Wisdom grows by being sought. Character grows by making difficult choices when easy ones are available. Even repentance requires movement. Heaven seems remarkably fond of people who are headed in the right direction, even if they haven't yet arrived.

So perhaps those young people accidentally improved an old proverb. "A rolling stone gathers no dust." Keep your mind rolling toward truth. Keep your heart rolling toward kindness. Keep your hands rolling toward service. Keep your feet rolling toward worthy goals. The world has enough dusty dreams, dusty talents, dusty convictions, and dusty excuses. What it desperately needs are people who refuse to stand still.

When your story is finally written, may it never be said that you were beautifully preserved beneath a layer of dust. Instead, may it be said that you lived with purpose, laughed often, learned constantly, served generously, trusted God completely, and kept rolling until the very end. After all, a stone that keeps moving may occasionally hit a bump—but it will always have a better view than the one that never left the driveway.