By. Stan Leech
“What’s this world coming to? A stone in the road.”
Delivered in the flattest, most monotone voice imaginable–by a tall second grader in a construction paper
costume–those words made Carla and I look at each other and do everything in our power not to laugh out
loud. Her college roommate and our lifelong friend Jo Ann Tubbs was with us too, and even she gave one of
those tight-lipped smiles that says, “This is funnier than we’re allowed to act right now.”
We were standing in the back of my mother’s Oak Grove Elementary classroom that had been transformed–
sort of–into a stage. Her students in oversized T-shirts acting out a moral tale from long ago. My mother had
invited us to see her second-grade class perform a play. She was proud of her students, as she always was.
We were there to support her, but what we didn’t expect was to walk away with a quote that would stick in our
family for years to come.
The play was based on a classic story about a king who placed a heavy stone in the middle of a road. He
wanted to see who would stop to move it-who cared enough to clear the path for others. Most people just
walked around it, complaining. Finally, a poor man came along, wrestled with the stone, and moved it off the
road. Underneath it, the king had left a bag of gold. The moral was clear: effort brings reward.
But the lasting lesson for us wasn’t in the gold- it was in the delivery.
That one line. That voice. That unforgettable timing.
“What’s this world coming to? A stone in the road.”
From that day on, it became a private joke between Carla and I. Every time something small went wrong-a
cracked windshield, a burnt dinner, a long wait at the pharmacy—one of us would say it, and the other would
nod in solemn agreement. “What’s this world coming to?”
It started out as a joke, but the phrase aged well. It came to mean something more. Because life has a way of
showing you that there really are stones in the road. Some are small. Some big enough to block your way
entirely.
But over time, I’ve learned something: It’s not about the stone, it’s about what you do when you reach it.
The old fable from the play had truth in it. The king wasn’t punishing his people—he was testing them. Giving
them a chance to rise. A chance to care. A chance to grow.
Some people avoid every challenge, every burden, and every inconvenience. But the ones who stop to
engage, the ones who sweat a little, who hurt a little, who lift…they’re the ones who find something of real
worth. Sometimes it’s gold. More often, it’s wisdom. Or strength. Or grace.
Years later, I’ve carried that phrase into deeper places. It’s no longer just a line from a child’s play—it’s a quiet
reminder when I face difficulty. “A stone in the road” can show up in the form of loss, illness, disappointment, a
hard decision, a broke relationship, a prayer that feels unanswered.
And when it does, I still hear that 2 nd grader’s monotone voice in my head. Only now, I don’t just laugh. I lean
in, because I know there’s something beneath it.
And then there’s the stone.
The real one.
The one that matters most.
“They found the stone rolled away from the tomb.”—Luke 24:2
When Christ was crucified, all hope seemed sealed behind that stone. His followers were devastated. Their
friend, their teacher, their Messiah—gone. And then…the stone rolled away.
Not just moved.
Removed.
The tomb wasn’t empty because someone passed by and complained. It was empty because heaven stepped
in. That stone was in the road between life and death—and it was rolled away forever.
There’s something holy in that image.
A rolled-away stone.
A blocked path made clear.
A burden lifted by hands not our own.
And because of that, every stone we face carries a little less fear. Because the biggest one has already been
conquered.
That doesn’t mean the road is always easy. Some stones still hurt. Some still bruise your shins. But none of
them are at the end. Not anymore.
Carla and I still say it sometimes. When life throws us a curve.
“What’s this world coming to?”
And without fail, one of us will answer.
“A stone in the road”
But now, behind the humor, there’s a quiet understanding. A little more maturity. A little more faith.
Because we know that sometimes, the stone is the lesson.
And sometimes, the stone is the test.
And sometimes, the stone…
Is already gone.
So, when your next trial comes, and you find yourself staring at something heavy in your path, don’t be too
quick to walk around it. Don’t assume it’s the end. Bend down, feel the weight. Try to move it.
And as you do, remember the truth buried beneath:
Effort matters.
Faith matters.
Christ has already cleared the biggest road of all.
Yes…this world came to a stone in the road.
More from Stan Leech’s Faith & Leadership column: For another Boerne ISD moment that became a lesson, read Just Stay Down. For a childhood scene from the same kind of small-town imagination, read Broken Windows, Dead Roses, and Brown Patches.
