The Gift I Can't Afford

Charles Dickens' Book in Russian

1892

Hebrews 2:9 NIV

"But we see Jesus, who was made a little lower than the angels, now crowned with glory and honor because he suffered death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone."

In 2004, I visited many families in Turkmenistan as I worked in the regions. The hospitality of the people had been praised by many people in the U.S. State Department. Teachers from Eurasia and Russia I met at an International Teachers' Conference also told me how gracious the people were.

I was not disappointed. I was wined and dined in many homes. I ate on the floor with Turkmen families, and I ate at tables with Russian families.

I loved traditional dishes like plov and pelmini, and I figured out how to take small sips of the native drink, chou (fermented camel's milk). The national bread, chorek, is fantastic hot out of the kiln!

The Tolkuchka (Push Market), where every object under the sun can be bought and sold, fascinated me. It's more than an American flea market--it's like an American flea market on steroids.

When I figured out I could buy camels at Tolkuchka, I wanted to get a baby camel.  So sad that didn't work out!

People in Turkmenistan value their handmade carpets, and there are hundreds at the market in various sizes and for various prices. They're gorgeous.

I visited the carpet museum and watched women weave these carpets by hand. They are time-intensive to make. Several women sit side-by-side and thread the yarn onto the loom and beat the thread into position. It's back-breaking work.

Young girls become old women kneeling and pounding thread into patterns year after year, yet their intricate artisan skills are admired throughout their nation and the world.

However, my most valued gift in 2004 was not a carpet, nor a camel, nor even the traditional dress one of my hostesses had made for me.

My priceless gift was found on the shelf of a home in a region I visited. It was a story written in 1892 by Charles Dickens and translated into Russian. The family who gifted it to me caught me admiring it.

I had tried not to pay too much attention to objects in my hosts' homes. We'd been warned by the state department that people in Eurasian countries would give us anything we desired if we wanted.

However, the book by Dickens mezmerized me, and I couldn't help staring at it because it was such an unexpected discovery in a remote corner of a Third World Nation.

When I left their home as my visit ended, they handed it to me. I refused to take it as the gift was too valuable, too dear--too priceless.  The Russian word is "dorogaya". 

My hosts refused to listen to me. They explained, right now in their country, books had no value, so I should take it with me because I valued it.  I understood its worth.

I couldn't argue with their logic, so I accepted the book whose price I could not afford. I began to cry for their graciousness to me.

On a larger scale, the same holds true with Jesus' sacrifice for me on the cross. I value it, but I don't see how I deserve it. However, He insists that I take the gift, so I have. 

I accepted His gift that I can not afford. I am reduced to tears every time I consider the amazing grace He has given me, so I can have hope for heaven.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lord, thank you for your priceless gift of redemption and love.