Galatians 6:1 KJV
Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault, ye which are spiritual, restore such an one in the spirit of meekness; considering thyself, lest thou also be tempted.
“The Broken Ladder
Behind the Barn.”
A devotional story inspired by true events
The sun was just beginning to rise over the rolling fields
of Willow Creek Farm, painting the frost‑tipped grass in shades of gold.
Morning chores had already begun—cows lowing, chickens fussing, the old
windmill creaking in the cold breeze.
But behind the barn, out of sight, seventeen‑year‑old Caleb
Turner sat on an overturned bucket, head buried in his hands.
He had broken the ladder.
Not just any ladder—the tall, sturdy one his father used for
repairing the hayloft and cleaning the gutters. The one his grandfather had
built by hand. The one everyone trusted.
Caleb had climbed it the night before, trying to fix a loose
board on the roof without telling anyone. He wanted to prove he was
responsible. Capable. Grown.
But halfway up, the ladder shifted. He panicked. He jumped.
The ladder crashed to the ground, splintering into three jagged pieces.
He wasn’t hurt. But his pride was.
And worse—he had hidden it. Dragged the broken pieces behind
the barn. Planned to pretend he knew nothing about it.
Now guilt gnawed at him like a hungry animal.
He heard footsteps crunching in the frost. His father,
Daniel Turner, rounded the corner, carrying a coil of rope.
“Caleb,” he said gently, “you’re out here early.”
Caleb stiffened. “Just… thinking.”
Daniel set the rope down and studied his son’s face. “Son, I
found the ladder.”
Caleb’s breath caught. Shame flooded him. “Dad, I—I’m sorry.
I tried to fix the roof. I wanted to help. I didn’t mean to break it. I
should’ve told you. I was scared you’d be disappointed.”
His father didn’t speak right away. He walked over to the
broken ladder, knelt beside it, and ran his hand along the splintered wood.
Then he looked up at Caleb with eyes full of quiet
compassion.
“Son,” he said, “this ladder can be mended. And so can you.”
Caleb blinked. “You’re… not angry?”
“I’m not happy you hid it,” Daniel said honestly. “But I’m
not here to punish you. Galatians 6:1 tells us what to do when someone
stumbles. We restore. Gently. Humbly. Because we’ve all broken a few ladders in
our time.”
Caleb swallowed hard. “Even you?”
Daniel chuckled softly. “Especially me.”
He stood and placed a hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “Come on.
Let’s fix it together.”
They carried the pieces into the workshop. Daniel showed
Caleb how to sand the edges, how to fit the joints, how to reinforce the rungs.
It took hours. It took patience. It took humility on both sides.
But by noon, the ladder stood tall again—stronger than
before.
Caleb ran his hand along the smooth wood. “Dad… thank you.
For not giving up on me.”
Daniel smiled. “Restoration is what love does.”
Later that afternoon, Caleb climbed the newly repaired
ladder—this time with his father steadying the base. Together, they fixed the
loose board on the roof.
And as Caleb hammered the final nail, he realized something:
His father hadn’t just restored a ladder. He had restored a
heart. A relationship. A young man’s courage.
It was Galatians 6:1 lived out in sawdust and sunlight.
Gentle. Humble. Healing.
The kind of restoration that doesn’t just fix what’s broken—
it strengthens what remains.
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