Pressing On
In a far country lived a band of minstrels who traveled from town to town presenting music to make a living. They had not been doing well. Times were hard; there was little money for common folk to come to hear the minstrels, even though their fee was small. Attendance had been falling off, so early one evening the group met to discuss their plight. “I see no reason for opening tonight,” one said. “To make things even worse than they may have been, it is starting to snow. Who will venture out on a night like this?” “I agree,” another disheartened singer said. “Last night we performed for just a handful. Fewer will come tonight. Why not give back their meager fees and cancel the concert? No one can expect us to go on when just a few are in the audience.” “How can anyone do his best for so few?” a third inquired. Then he turned to another sitting beside him. “What do you think?” The man appealed to was older than the others. He looked straight at his troupe. “I know you are discouraged. I am too. But we have a responsibility to those who might come. We will go on. And we will do the best job of which we are capable. It is not the fault of those who come that others do not. They should not be punished with less than the best we can give.” Heartened by his words, the minstrels were ahead with their show. They never performed better. When the show was over and the small audience gone, the old man called his troupe to him. In his hand was a note, handed to him by one of the audience just before the doors closed behind him. “Listen to this, my friends!” Something electrifying in his tone of voice made them turn to him in anticipation. Slowly the old man read: “Thank you for a beautiful performance.” It was signed very simply–”Your King.”
All Is Attainable
I hold a doctrine to which I owe much, indeed, but all the little I ever had, namely, that with ordinary talent and extraordinary perseverance, all things are attainable. –T. F. Buxton
The Patience of the Scribes
Although we do not possess the original manuscripts of the New Testament, we do have over 99.9 percent of the original text, and this is because of the faithful work of manuscript copyists over the centuries. Yet the copying of the New Testament was a long and arduous process. Though it seems strange to us today, in antiquity, it was not customary to sit at a table or a desk while writing. Rather, it was customary for scribes to stand while making brief notes or to sit on a stool or bench (or even on the ground), holding their scroll on their knees. Something of the drudgery of copying manuscripts can be gleaned from the notes they often placed at the close of their books. The following are some examples:
“He who does not know how to write supposes it to be no labor; but though only three fingers write, the whole body labors.”
“Writing bows one’s back, thrusts the ribs into one’s stomach, and fosters a general debility of the body.”
In an Armenian manuscript of the Gospels, there is a not that complains that a heavy snowstorm was raging outside and that the scribe’s ink froze, his hand became numb, and the pen fell from his fingers.
“As travelers rejoice to see their home country, so also is the end of a book to those who toil [in writing].”
“The end of the book; thanks be to God!”
“There is no scribe who will not pass away, but what his hands have written will remain forever.”