Twice Owned

20140807_200404One of the pleasant memories my wife has of her childhood is when she and her father would perform a duet together. Kim would play the piano and her father would play the fiddle. Their duets brought them a lot of joy and family fun.

However, Kim’s dad suffered from the crippling effects of rheumatoid arthritis. By the age of 35, he was disabled and could no longer work.  Eventually his hands became so distorted from the effects of his arthritis, playing his fiddle became impossible.  So Kim’s dad reluctantly sold his fiddle, and used the money to support his family.

Fast-forward twenty years.  Kim’s dad had passed away, and for a Christmas gift, I determined to try to locate the fiddle her dad once owned and sold. Fortunately, with a little help from Kim’s sister, we were able to locate the person who purchased his fiddle, and he still had it in his possession.

The present owner of the fiddle knew that he had something of great value to me, and he asked for much more than what most people would think the fiddle was worth.  But to me, I would have paid any price so that Kim could own that fiddle again.

That purchase gives me a little insight into how God must have felt when he bought us back with the blood of his Son.  How much must God love us to pay such a high price to own us again?

Friends, don’t ever doubt that God loves you.  He paid a fantastic price so that you could be twice owned!

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Comments 1

  • Steve…reminds me of the story “The touch of the Masters Hand. Thanks.

    Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
    thought it scarcely worth his while to waste much time on the old violin,
    but held it up with a smile; “What am I bidden, good folks,” he cried,
    “Who’ll start the bidding for me?” “A dollar, a dollar”; then two!” “Only
    two? Two dollars, and who’ll make it three? Three dollars, once; three
    dollars twice; going for three..” But no, from the room, far back, a
    gray-haired man came forward and picked up the bow; Then, wiping the dust
    from the old violin, and tightening the loose strings, he played a melody
    pure and sweet as caroling angel sings.

    The music ceased, and the auctioneer, with a voice that was quiet and low,
    said; “What am I bid for the old violin?” And he held it up with the bow.
    A thousand dollars, and who’ll make it two? Two thousand! And who’ll make
    it three? Three thousand, once, three thousand, twice, and going and
    gone,” said he. The people cheered, but some of them cried, “We do not
    quite understand what changed its worth.” Swift came the reply: “The touch
    of a master’s hand.”

    And many a man with life out of tune, and battered and scarred with sin,
    Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd, much like the old violin, A
    “mess of pottage,” a glass of wine; a game – and he travels on. “He is
    going” once, and “going twice, He’s going and almost gone.” But the Master
    comes, and the foolish crowd never can quite understand the worth of a soul
    and the change that’s wrought by the touch of the Master’s hand

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