There was a strange auction held long ago. It was in the dead of night in one of the deep, almost’ inaccessible dells of the Black Forest. Flickering, flaring torches shed a glaring light around-light that soon faded into the impenetrable darkness of the forest.
Savage looking men, armed to the teeth, were gathered there. They were a gang of highwaymen who had held up a stagecoach that evening. Now they were following their usual custom of auctioning the stolen articles among themselves. Their prize had been an unusually rich one, and the sale proceeded with much drinking and revelry.
After jewelry, clothing, and luggage had been disposed of, the last article was held up for sale. It was a New Testament. The man who acted as auctioneer introduced this with some blasphemous remarks that made the woods ring with wild laughter. One of the company jokingly suggested that he should read a chapter for their edification.
This was unanimously applauded, and the auctioneer, opening the book at random, began reading in a voice of mock-devotion.
While most of the company were greatly amused at the sacrilegious scoffing, it was not noticed that one man had become suddenly quiet. He was a middle aged man, one of the oldest members of the gang, and had been foremost in their crimes and debaucheries. Now he sat in silence, his hands clasped round his knees, absorbed in thought.
The passage which the auctioneer read was the same one that had been read on the morning when, to escape from the hands of the police, this man had fled from his home.
Thirty years ago that had been, and he had not seen home or family since. Now, at the sound of the familiar words, old memories came back in overwhelming power.
In imagination he seemed to be sitting again at the breakfast table. His dear old father, sitting with the open Bible, was reading their morning chapter. Beside him sat his tender-hearted little mother, attentively listening to the Word of God. He saw himself, with his brothers and sisters, joining in a hymn of thanksgiving for the many mercies of their life. He saw them kneeling to pray for guidance and the blessing of God through the coming day. It was all as clear as if it had happened that morning.
Since leaving home, he had never opened a Bible, never offered up a prayer, never heard a single word that reminded him of God and eternity. But now, at this moment, it was as if his soul was awaking out of the long sleep of thirty years—as if the snow of a long, long winter was melting away at the sound of that well-known Bible passage. All the words which his father had spoken to him in his childhood—all the lessons, admonitions, and prayers of his mother (which were then scornfully given to the winds) came flying back to his memory.
Deeply absorbed in his memories, he forgot all that was around him he heard nothing of all the scoffing, laughing, and blaspheming that was going on in his presence. Suddenly, he was roused from his reverie by a slap on the shoulder and the question: “Now, old dreamer, what will you give for that book? You need it more than any one of us, for you are undoubtedly the biggest sinner in this world.”
“So I am,” he answered, struck to the heart by the truth which he recognized in that rough joke. “Give me the book I will pay its full price.”
The next day the bandits scattered through the neighborhood to turn their goods into money. The man who had bought the Bible went on his way too, but his steps were directed to no receiving-house. He went instead to a lonely spot deeper in the forest, and there he spent the day and night alone and in agony of soul. With him went the Testament, but he would not open its holy pages, fearing lest he should read more of God’s just condemnation of him.
Again and again he heard his comrade’s joking words: “The biggest sinner in this world.” He felt that it was only too true—certainly he had hesitated at no crime in the past thirty evil years of his life. Now what hope could there be for him? In his despair he would have committed suicide, but another long-forgotten word came to his mind: “It is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment,” and his courage failed. He dared not face that judgment in his sins. And after the judgment, what then?
Another morning was dawning when at last h e turned to his Testament. Of judgment he might read, but even that would be better than this terror of the unknown future that had seized him.
The Book lay open before him—and what did his eyes first see? A solemn pronouncement of the judgment to come? Words of God’s wrath against sinners? Ah, no! These were the words he read: “This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners of whom I am chief.”
“Chief... of sinners.” Who had written that? None other than the Apostle Paul.
He had called himself the chief of sinners how would it fare with him in the judgment?
No need to ask that! The chief of sinners had been saved—saved because Christ Jesus came to save sinners. There was hope—yes, more than hope.
As the rising sun shone into the shadows of the Black Forest, bringing the light and warmth of a new day, so the light of God’s
Word shone into that dark heart and brought not only a new day, but a new life as well.
With the joyful certainty of God’s forgiveness came the sobering knowledge that man’s justice was still unsatisfied. He went to the nearest police station to surrender. There he found that in the night, while he was alone in the forest, the police had raided their hidden dell and captured all his former comrades. All were sentenced to death—all save one. God’s mercy followed our friend, and he received a full pardon from the Grand Duke.
So, forgiven by God and man, he lived out his days in praise and thanksgiving.
And ‘while he lived all who came near him heard him repeating the well-loved words: “This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners; of whom I am chief.”