“Without money, and without price!” Such are the terms on which God offers to all the gift of eternal life. But how few will take it on these terms.
A friend of the poor often ordered a quarter of a ton of coal to be taken to persons whom he knew to be in want. The winter was severe, the snow lying thick, and the kind donor rejoiced to think of what warmth and comfort his gifts would bring to many hearts and homes.
The coal cart drew up to a poor desolate-looking cottage, and the coalman knocked at the door, and told the old man within that he had brought him some coals. “Who from?” “Don’t know,” said the man, “but I was told to bring ’em here, and here they are.”
“It’s a mistake; they’re not for me,” answered the old man. “No such luck for me. I’ve no friend to send me coals for nothing. Take ’em away; they’re not for me, and I won’t have anything to do with ’em.” And he shut the door. The cart rolled away, taking in it the gift that was intended for the old man.
The next day the same cart and the same man drew up to another door. “I’ve brought you some coals,” he said cheerfully. “Where shall I put ’em?”
“They’re not for me,” answered the man who opened the door. “It’s a mistake.”
“It’s no mistake,” said the coalman. “See, here’s the order — No. 24, quarter of a ton of coals. Now, that’s clear ain’t it?”
“That’s my number, certainly,” replied the other, “but these coals ain’t mine, and I can’t take ’em in. They must be for someone else!”
“Well,” said the man with the coals, scratching his head with a puzzled look, “these coals beat me; they’re more trouble than enough. One would think I was bringing yer poison. Here comes a nice present of coals, and yer clean refuse to take ’em. But leave ’em I shall; for yesterday, I took ’em away from a house and got into trouble for it. So, if yer don’t open yer cellar door, I shall chuck ’em down here by yer doorstep.”
Thus pressed, the man at last opened his cellar door, saying, “You’ll soon be back to fetch ’em, I guess, so I won’t set too much store by ’em. But if they’re for me, I’m much obliged.”
One more house the coalman visited with his load, and, knocking at the door, told the woman he had brought her some coals.
“For me?” she asked. “Oh, it can’t be true. They must be for someone else.”
“No, mum, here’s your number, plain enough — No. 8, quarter of a ton of coals.”
“So it is! Well, then, I suppose God has sent ’em to me, for no one else knows that the last bit of coal is on the fire now. Bring them in. I must thank Him.”
“Perhaps you’d better,” was the man’s short answer; but to himself he added, “She’s the only sensible one; the rest are fools.”
As The coals were paid for by the donor: so our salvation has been bought with a price, even the precious blood of the Son of God, “Who gave Himself a ransom for all” (1 Timothy 2:6).
Yet, how many act like these cottagers as to the coals. Some, like the old man, refuse altogether. “It’s not for me.”