He stood in his doorway, an old man sobbing like a small child, a millionaire baffled over a $5 can of mixed nuts. A gift, for no reason other than an expression of care, was beyond comprehension for this successful businessman and world traveller.
He understood trade well. Much of his money was gained by stock investments started years prior with $50 at his kitchen table. Now, he and his wife were in an upscale apartment literally wallpapered with photos of their adventures: dining with the captain aboard the Queen Elizabeth II (twice), kissing the Blarneystone, safaris, tours, and places I’d only imagined I’d like to go. Like his ancient grandfather Jacob, he had mastered the economy of tit-for-tat. Gifts were for the sake of good marketing or because it was culturally expected. His year-end mailing list was sorted into nicer cards for those who had sent nicer, lesser cards for those who had sent lesser, and a stack of small checks for charities with careful accounting for the tax deductions. He was every inch a business man, though much friendlier than old Ebeneezer Scrooge. His reputation among the “who’s who” of society was very important to him, as though even his friendships were a business venture. Another story suggests this to be true.
He could have purchased a whole case of the finest brand of nuts, perhaps exclusively almonds or cashews, without flinching. Yet, in all his wheeling and dealing, trading and investing, he simply couldn’t comprehend a gift without expectation. It overwhelmed him, and so he wept. The image is imprinted in my mind – I can still see his red smoking jacket and his facial expression. The caption in my personal gallery is “What profit is there to gain the whole world and lose your soul?” I don’t know, of course, the condition of his soul – but I know that in that moment, he was dumbstruck by a simple gift.
Between the time of considering this article and actually getting it typed up, I encountered another woman in another town. She just had to share with me that she had been praying for our mutual friend, in hopes that the One to whom we pray actually intervenes on behalf of ‘normal’ people. He did intervene, by the way, in our friend’s case and in mine, and I shared my story. Her response was that, being raised by a Jewish father, she couldn’t see herself accepting such a gift without somehow paying or trading for it. I understand that, and yet I remember my old friend and a can of nuts.
Pray for the Jewish people, that they learn of Grace before they have a face-to-face encounter with the Lord of the Law. What a pity to be so blessed and beloved, and miss out. This was Jesus’ thought as He wept over the city of Jerusalem, bustling with business, strict in their sanctity, and ignorant that Jehovah Himself was in a humble carpenter’s body, about to be mounted like a trophy to wood beams, to give us all the one gift we cannot trade or pay for – Grace. “How I’ve longed to gather you as a hen gathers chicks under her wings” He said, “but you would not, and so the outsiders are entering ahead of you.”
Pray for the Jewish people… and for all others who put their full confidence in their own resources. It is when we realize that we have nothing to trade that we begin to recognize Grace.