In the old days, not far from our farm was an abattoir where droves of unwanted horses were processed for fox food and dog food. To me it was a dreadful place.
One day I had the misfortune of losing one of my team. So, needing another horse, I called the abattoir to see if I could buy one of their live animals for a replacement. The answer was:
“Yes, go over to the holding pasture and pick out the one that suits you.”
I drove over, and what a sight! There were about one hundred horses in the holding paddock attached to the slaughterhouse. There were all breeds, colors, sizes and ages—some old and feeble, some evidently quite young. One team in particular caught my eye—beautiful creatures with long manes and tails. They were all doomed to die, so many a day, and more to follow.
It was a cold winter morning and the horses were eating what little grass they could find on the bare, frozen sod. Truly, I thought, it is like Lo-Debar, "a place of no pasture," where King David found poor, lame Mephibosheth, and took him home to his palace (2 Sam. 9).
My heart ached for those poor horses in their miseries, and soon to be destroyed.
However, glad to be able to save at least one, I looked around for the horse which would suit me best.
Singling out a fine, sleek mare, I made towards her, calling kindly and holding out my hands. However, she had no wish to be approached, even in kindness. Laying back her ears and opening her mouth wide, she stretched her neck to bite. Then suddenly turning, she quickly ran away.
I thought, how like many poor lost sinners who reject and despise God's proffered grace!
I turned sadly and selected another mare. She was not as good looking, nor so young either. But she gladly received the kindness I offered. So I took a piece of cord and tied it about her neck to identify her as mine. Shortly afterward I happily led her home to our farm, where she lived comfortably and worked faithfully for several years.
To one that loved horses, that packing house scene was a most sorrowful operation. But if we have eyes to see, how infinitely more sad is the sight of multitudes of poor lost sinners treading the broad road that leads to destruction, despising the One whose nail-pierced hands are stretched out to save. Thank God, that some (like my humble horse) receive salvation and escape.
But my illustration is but a feeble picture, and falls far short of reality. I could have only one horse from death that day. But God is not willing that any—man, woman or child—should perish. He has provided a full, free salvation for all who will receive it, without money and without price.