Deacon Paul Nghia Pham

SHARPENING THE SAW

“Be still, and know that I am God.” — Psalm 46:10

The annual lumberjack competition drew crowds from far and wide, but everyone knew the real contest had come down to two men.

One was young — strong, confident, full of fire and energy.
The other was older — weathered, quiet, marked by years of experience.

The rules were simple:
Whoever felled the most trees in a single day would be crowned champion.

The whistle blew, and the younger lumberjack rushed into the woods with fierce determination. He swung his axe with relentless power. Tree after tree crashed to the ground. His muscles burned, but he refused to slow down. He was driven by one thought:

If I never stop, I cannot lose.

From across the forest, he could hear the distant rhythm of the older lumberjack at work — steady, deliberate, unhurried. Then, every so often, the sound stopped entirely.

The young man smiled to himself.

“He’s resting. He’s getting tired. This is my chance.”

So he pressed on.

No breaks.
No pause.
No rest.

Hour after hour, day faded into night and still he swung his axe, convinced that endurance alone would guarantee victory. His hands blistered. His body trembled. But he would not stop — not even once.

Finally, the day ended.

He stood in front of his massive pile of felled trees and felt pride swell within him. Surely, no one could have worked harder than he had. Surely, no one had cut more.

At the medal ceremony, he climbed the podium already tasting victory.

Beside him stood the older lumberjack — calm, composed, surprisingly refreshed.

When the results were announced, the younger man’s confidence shattered.

The older lumberjack had cut down far more trees than he had.

Stunned, exhausted, and frustrated, the young man turned to him and demanded,

“How is this possible? I worked without resting. I am stronger. I am faster. I never stopped — and I heard you stop every single hour!”

The older lumberjack smiled gently.

“Yes,” he said. “I stopped every hour.”

Then he added,

“I stopped to rest — and to sharpen my saw.”

And in that one sentence, a lifetime of wisdom unfolded.

The young lumberjack believed that strength alone wins battles.

He believed progress comes from constant motion, that productivity is proved by exhaustion, that worth is measured by how hard one works and how much one sacrifices.

But effort without renewal becomes dull.

Activity without pause eventually weakens.

And a life lived without stillness — even when full of motion — slowly loses effectiveness.

The older lumberjack understood something deeper:

Sometimes the most powerful work happens in the moments when we stop working.

He was not wasting time.
He was not falling behind.
He was not giving up momentum.

He was preparing to continue well.

He was sharpening what enabled his work — his saw, his strength, his mind, his focus.

And so he accomplished more…

with less strain,
with greater clarity,
with quieter effort.

Not because he worked harder —
but because he worked wiser.

Many of us live like the younger lumberjack.

We push ourselves without pause.
We fill every hour.
We equate stillness with laziness.
We fear stopping because we fear falling behind.

We tell ourselves:

“If I slow down, I’ll lose ground.”
“If I rest, I’ll fall short.”
“If I pause, I’ll disappoint someone.”

So we keep chopping.

Through exhaustion.
Through stress.
Through emotional fatigue.

We dull our spirit…
and wonder why joy disappears.

We dull our relationships…
and wonder why tenderness fades.

We dull our faith…
and wonder why God feels distant.

Not because we lack strength —

but because we never sharpen the saw.

Scripture speaks gently into this truth:

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

Stillness is not inactivity.
Stillness is not failure.
Stillness is not weakness.

Stillness restores.

Stillness renews.

Stillness reminds us that our worth does not come from what we produce — but from who we belong to.

God did not design the human heart to run endlessly without pause. Even creation itself breathes in rhythm: day and night, tide and shore, work and rest, motion and stillness.

When we never stop, our lives slowly tilt out of balance.

We become busy — but not fruitful.
Active — but not purposeful.
Drained — but not deep.

The older lumberjack teaches us that rest is not an interruption to growth.

It is part of growth.

Prayer sharpens the spirit.
Reflection sharpens understanding.
Silence sharpens awareness.
Sabbath sharpens the soul.

We do not pause to fall behind.

We pause so that we can continue with strength.

There will always be voices urging us to push harder — to keep swinging — to prove ourselves through exhaustion.

But wisdom knows when to step back and breathe.

Wisdom knows when to sit quietly and listen.

Wisdom knows that time spent sharpening is never wasted.

And wisdom also understands that some of the greatest victories in life are not won by the ones who never stop — but by the ones who know when to stop.

So when life becomes relentless…
when fatigue replaces joy…
when effort feels empty…

do not just keep swinging.

Lay the axe down.
Rest.
Pray.
Reflect.
Sharpen the soul.

Then rise again — renewed, focused, restored.

For the ones who change the world —
the ones who endure —
the ones who finish well —

are not always the strongest,

but the ones who have learned
the holy art of sharpening the saw.