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 understnad what changed its worth." Swift came the reply:
of a master's hand."
This is first part of a poem in a children's book that I have and love. (The Touch of The Master's Hand, by Myra Brooks Welch) When I read this, the picture that comes to my mind is that of all of us...sinners. We were being auctioned off, each one of us with a different price, but equally cheap. For some, the price is pride. Some is anger. Some is addiction. Some is bitterness. The list could go on, but the price was cheap enough to be paid.
Right when the world and Satan was getting ready to say "Going once, twice, Gone", a master stepped up. Not just any master, The Master. I like to think that He looked at all of my scratches and brokenness. He noticed every single flaw. That Master lovingly picked me up, saw the cheap price tag and just smiled. Smiled because right there in His hand, underneath my cheap price tag was His receipt: in the form of a scar. That receipt was from a long time ago, before I was ever up for sale. He paid a price that the world could never come close to. The world may wonder what changed my worth and the answer is as simple as the one in the story...
The touch of a master's hand.