Some years ago, a French colporteur wended his way through a large forest to reach the huts of charcoal burners dwelling in those secluded places. Arriving at one of them, he greeted the woman at the door, and offered her a New Testament for sale.
Jeanne hesitated. Still she wistfully eyed the neat little book. At last she produced ten cents, and taking the book said,
“I cannot refuse, Monsieur, but may I be pardoned if it is a sin.” Presently in came her husband. After their meal, Jeanne timidly produced her book for his inspection. As she feared, he was tired and cross, and upbraided her for spending his money in this fashion.
“But,” said she, “the money is not all yours. I brought my dowry when we married. The half was as much mine as yours.”
“Give me the book,” said Jacques in a temper; and he snatched it from her hands.
“The money was half yours and half mine you say. Well, then, the book is the same.” He opened the book, tore it in two parts, dropped one into his blouse, and tossed the other to his wife.
Some days later Jacques sat in the forest by his charcoal fires. He had finished his mid-day meal and felt lonely. Suddenly he remembered the torn book, and he would now look at it. It was the latter part of the book. His rough fingers had divided it in Luke’s Gospel. He began at the very beginning—
“And will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son.”
He read to the end of the story; then a dozen questions presented themselves. What had he done the poor lost son? Where had he been? What induced him to return?
“I wish I had the beginning of the story,” he said to himself, but his pride, at first prevented him asking Jeanne for her part of the book.
Meanwhile Jeanne lived her dreary days and used her leisure moments pouring over her part of the book, spelling out the hard words in it. She began to delight in it, but when she reached the end, her interest was doubly quickened. That young son his waywardness, his journey, his sin, his misery, the wonderful change in his thoughts—
“I perish with hunger! I will arise and go to my father”—but the rest of the story was in the other part of the book. What then had happened? Did the father welcome him? Her tender heart longed for the answer, but she had not courage to ask Jacques.
One day, however, the rain poured down with special vigor, and Jacques came home feeling specially weary. He ate his soup and bread for supper as usual, and at last he blurted out:
“Jeanne, you remember the book I tore in two?”
“O, yes,” said she half fearing.
“My part had in it a wonderful story, but only the end of it. I want to know the beginning of it. Bring me your part.”
“O, Jacques!” said Jeanne, “the same story is ever in my mind, only I lack the ending; did the father receive that willful son?”
“He did. But what was it that separated them?” asked Jacques.
She brought her piece of the book, and knelt by his chair. Together they read the whole of the beautiful parable, and the Spirit of God who had been working in both their hearts, caused its hidden meaning to dawn upon them.
That was the first of many Bible readings by the firelight after the meal was over. That was the beginning; and it led both of them to yield their hearts and lives to the Lord Jesus Christ.
The parable of the prodigal son was an absolute novelty to the French charcoal burner and his wife; it is probably familiar to the reader of these lines, but have you made its application to yourself? Has it ever raised in your mind the questions that it did in theirs?
When the sinner, weary, sad and humble returned homeward to seek his Father, did the Father receive him? Why, yes, he did, indeed.
“When he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion and ran, and fell on his neck and kissed him.”
Again let me assure you, it applies to you. If you but turn to God, confessing yourself a lost sinner, coming to Him through the Lord Jesus Christ, pleading the merits of His atoning sacrifice, you will get just such a gracious reception as is described.
Behold God’s precious, spotless Lamb!
He bore the weight of sin and shame;
There’s power to save in Jesus’ name,
His blood avails for thee.
He left His home, the heavens above,
Came down in purest grace and love;
Mercy the Savior’s heart did move,
Mercy for such as thee.