There is in central Connecticut an absolutely lovely little town that takes one’s breath away because of its quaint beauty. The houses date back to the 1700’s and the lawns are expansive. Giant trees shade the streets and the town square is out of a picture book. There is an ice cream shop on one corner with an antique store close by. A used bookstore filled with musty tomes beckons one to enter in search of treasure. The village square has a bronze monument with the names of townsmen who gave their lives in wars dating clear back to the revolution against Great Britain. An old canon sits on a concrete pedestal and is worn from the trousers of thousands of children who have sat astride its massive girth.
Inside the antique store are some of the most amazing prices! Simple small nightstands, chairs and desks with thousand-dollar price tags. And according to the proprietor, none of these pieces of furniture had been previously owned by some famous American like George Washington or Alexander Hamilton. You don’t suppose this proprietor simply drove to Vermont, bought the items for twenty-five dollars and then brought them back to his up-scale Connecticut store?
But then God put a horrendous price tag on us. In the eyes of the angels we must look like we are worth twenty-five dollars, if that. But obviously God thought differently. For you and me He spent His only son.
Written by Roger Bothwell on July 28, 2000
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