The Unbroken Cord

A traveler set out on a long road, carrying a single rope over his shoulder. It was strong, woven thick with fibers, meant to bear weight when needed.

As the years passed, the road grew treacherous. There were rivers to cross, cliffs to descend, and burdens too heavy to bear alone. The traveler would reach for his rope, but time and again, it failed him—unraveling under strain, snapping when stretched.

One evening, wearied and alone, he came upon an old craftsman mending nets by the fire.

“You travel alone,” the craftsman observed.

The traveler nodded. “The road is long, and I’ve lost too many who walked with me.”

The craftsman gestured to the frayed rope. “That was never meant to hold you.”

The traveler frowned. “It was strong enough at first.”

“Strong alone,” the craftsman said, “but not enduring.” He took the rope and held it against a thick cord of three strands. “This is how ropes were meant to be woven—bound together, each strand giving strength to the others.”

The traveler touched the cord, feeling its weight, its resilience.

“If one falls,” the craftsman said, “the other bears him up. If one is weak, the others hold firm. This is the way of covenant.”

The traveler looked at his old rope, frayed and useless. Then he looked at the cord, twined and whole.

And for the first time, he understood.

—

(Loosely inspired by Ecclesiastes 4:12.)