I Am Bought

For you know it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your ancestors, but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect. 2 Peter 1:18-19

I am bought.

I wince at the images my mind conjures of being bought: Politicians selling their integrity as they make deals under the table. Judas betraying Jesus for 30 coins. A witness perjuring him- or herself on the stand for favor. And the idea that I would owe someone? I cringe with unease.

What’s does your price tag say? How much would it cost to buy you? Can you be bought?

Jesus asks nothing in return for the cost of obtaining us. He gave more than blood, sweat, and the tears He shed at Gethsemane. He knew the steep price, and He was willing to pay it. I’m not sure many of us — if any of us — can fully appreciate what that means. We have a limited capacity to understand fully what it would actually cost to purposely relinquish all we are and have — a life filled with the joys of experiencing the riches we have been given in becoming educated, exploring the world around us, giving birth, and growing old next to our spouse — so that someone else could live. In bravado we announce to others, “I would die for _____.” But would we?

My guess is that self-preservation would rule and we would try to buy our way out of dire circumstances somehow.

Around the age of nine or ten I found myself in a predicament, and to this day I am ashamed that my young mind was sharp and devious enough to worm its way out of the situation at someone else’s expense. My father was a DIY-er, and he had been busy one weekend sprucing things up around my childhood home.  Freshening the basement floor with a new coat of paint, he laid his materials aside and left them as the floor dried. Spying the painting materials, I decided I needed to experience the glide of the paint roller along the floor. So, paint I did. I wasn’t aware that the floor was nearly dry and it would be easy for my father to tell someone had been meddling in his project.bought2

Back upstairs playing a while later, I heard my dad call from the basement. He had discovered the wet-again floor. My little brother, two years younger, and I were asked to come downstairs and confess as to who had been where they weren’t supposed to be. Neither of us would admit to it, so we were confined to the basement stairs until one of us owned up.

We sat for a long time.

I kept telling my brother I didn’t do it while he told me the same.

We sat longer.

After what seemed an eternity sitting on those hard wooden stairs, I could no longer stand the confinement.  I blurted out, “You might as well tell him you did it, because I sure didn’t!” He decided to be the scapegoat, and minutes later I was free while he was being punished. I didn’t even have to make a deal with him.

Because my brother took my blame, my relationship with my father, who believed I was innocent, remained intact.  Jesus did the same. He willingly paid the ultimate price for me, knowing I had nothing to give in return, so my relationship with my Heavenly Father is also intact. 

One brother purchased my freedom for the day; One purchased it for eternity.

I am bought. And I am eternally grateful.

In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace … Ephesians 1:7

Because you are what God says that you are!  You are enough!

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Pam Freitag Weyant traded the harsh Midwestern winters for the sunny South.  Her best friends are her stenography machine (she works as a freelance court reporter), her aged but adorable cocker spaniel Jake, and words.  She is grateful for time spent traveling, writing creative nonfiction, and working out.  Her goal is to share her story with others so they can also find freedom in a redemptive Savior.  Read more of Pam’s Breath on Paper bio here. 

Feature Image Photo by Vitaly on Unsplash

7 thoughts on “I Am Bought

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