“…You were bought at a price.” I Cor. 6:20
One day a little girl was combing her mother’s hair leaned over and said, Momma you know I love you don’t you? The mother said yes I know it.
Momma I love to comb your hair with these little strands of gray but so full and so beautiful. I love to comb your hair. Mother I just love your voice. Your voice is so sweet. I love to hear you sing. As far back as I can remember your lullabies would gently put me to sleep. I love your voice.
Momma I just love lookin’ at your eyes as they sparkle and the dance with delight. I just love lookin’ into your eyes, they mean so much to me.
But Momma why…tell me why…why did you let your hands get so scarred and so rough. Why didn’t you get you some lotion or some crème? Why didn’t you take better care of your hands?
There was a long moment of silence.
The mother reached around and caught her little daughter’s hands and pulled her around, picked her up and set her on her lap. And said, “Mary, I’ve got something to tell you; maybe I should have told you this before now.
“What is it Momma?” Mary asked.
She said, “Mary, there was mother who had prayed to God to give her a baby girl. And the Lord answered her prayers and gave her this baby girl. And she got so much joy in doing for this baby girl. She loved the sewing and the knitting and making clothes for this baby girl.
One day while this mother was ironing remembered that she needed something from the drug store and she looked there and the little baby girl in the crib sleeping. The mother thought, “I’ll ease off to the drug store and get these articles and get back before her nap is over.”
And, Mary, this mother went to the drug store and on her way back, fire trucks passed her but she didn’t think nothing of it until she got to the corner. And when she got to the corner and looked the fire trucks were parked in front of her apartment. And the ladders were up to the third floor window where she lived.
And all of a sudden, Mary, she remembered that when she was ironing and had decided to go to the drug store she had left the iron on the board. And it was her apartment that was on fire and that her little girl was in there!
And she began to run and the firemen would pull at her to try to stop her and the policeman reached for her to try to stop her and she pulled out of her coat and ran up the stairs and opened the door to her apartment and Mary as she moved across the floor she looked and flames of fire were reaching out to embrace her little girl so she raced over to the crib grabbed her little girl and pulled her to her bosom…as the flames of fire were reaching for the little girl they burned the mother’s hands.
And, Mary, I want you to know that little girl was you.
Tears began to roll down Mary’s cheeks. She began to weep and wash those hands with her tears. She began to kiss them and said, “Oh Momma. Oh Momma. Oh Momma. How I love your hands! Because your hands saved me!”
Why do we worship Jesus? Because…
I don’t know about you, but I love Him. I worship Jesus because he took my punishment and because He purchased my salvation with his broken body and shed blood.
The old Puritan prayer reminds us,
If my life is to be a crucible amid burning heat, so be it, but do Thou sit at the furnace mouth to watch the ore that nothing be lost. If I sin wilfully, grievously, tormentedly, in grace take away my mourning and give me music; remove my sackcloth and clothe me with beauty; still my sighs and fill my mouth with song, then give me summer weather as a Christian.