This little story moves me, I hope it will move you too.
The Ragman
One Friday morning I noticed a young man, handsome andstrong, walking the alleys of our city. He was pulling an old cart filled withclothes both bright and new, and he was calling in a clear, loud voice; Rags,rags! New rags for old!
Now this is a wonder, I thought to myself, for the man stoodsix foot four, his arms were like tree limbs, hard and muscular, his eyesflashed intelligence. Could he find no better job than this, to be aragman?..........I followed him.
Soon the ragman saw a woman sitting on a porch. She wassobbing into a handkerchief, sighing and shedding a thousand tears. Her kneesand elbows made a sad X. her shoulders shook. Her heart was breaking. …… Theragman stopped his cart. Quietly he walked to the woman, stepping around cans,bottles, and other garbage. “Give me your rag” he said so gently, “and I’llgive you another.” He slipped the handkerchief from her eyes. She looked up andhe laid across her palm a linen cloth so clean and new that it shined. Shelooked in wonder from the gift to the giver. ……… Then, as he began to pull hiscart again, the ragman did a strange thing; he put her stained handkerchief tohis own face….. then, HE began to cry, to weep and sob as grievously as she haddone, his shoulders shaking. …. This is a wonder, I breathed to myself, and Ifollowed the sobbing ragman like a child.
“Rags! Rags! New rags for old!” ................... In a little while, when the sky showed gray behind the rooftops and Icould see the shredded curtains hanging out black windows, the ragman came upona girl whose head was wrapped in a bandage. Her eyes were empty. Blood soakedher bandage. A line of blood ran down her cheek. ….. The ragman looked uponthis child with eyes filled with compassion. He drew a lovely pure white bonnetfrom his cart. ….. “Give me your rag” he said, stroking her cheek, “and I willgive you mine.” …… The child could onlygaze at him as he loosened her bandage, removed it, and tied it around his ownhead. The bonnet he placed on hers. ……… I looked, and gasped at what I saw;with the bandage went the wound! Against his brow it ran a darker, more substantialblood – HIS OWN!
“Rags! Rags! I take old rags!” cried the sobbing, bleeding,strong intelligent ragman.
The sun hurt both the sky now, and my eyes, as the day woreon. The ragman seemed more and more to hurry.
He came to a man leaning against a pole. “Are you going towork, do you have a job?” he asked the man. The man pulled away from the poleand turned, revealing the right sleeve of his jacket; flat, the cuff stuffedinto his pocket. He had no arm! …. “Give me your jacket and I’ll give you mine”said the ragman, in a voice filled with both love and quiet authority. …. Theone armed man took off his jacket. So did the ragman. I trembled at what I saw;THE RAGMAN’S ARM STAYED IN its SLEEVE! …… When the other put it on, he had twogood arms, thick as tree limbs; but the ragman had only one! “Go to work” hesaid.
After that he found a man lying unconscious in a ditch, old,hunched, wizened, and sick; covered by an old, tattered army blanket. Theragman took that blanket and wrapped it around himself. For the man, he leftnew clothes.
And now, I had to run to keep up with the ragman. Though hewas weeping uncontrollably, and bleeding freely at the forehead, pulling hiscart with one arm, stumbling, falling again and again, exhausted, old and sick, he went with terrible speed. Heskittered through the alleys of the city, this mile and the next, until he cameto its limits, and then he rushed beyond.
I wept to see the change in this man. I hurt to see hissorrow. It broke my heart to watch him suffer. And yet, I had to see where hewas going in such haste, perhaps to know what drove him so.
The smitten and afflicted ragman came to a landfill. He cameto the garbage pits. I wanted to help him, but I hung back. ….. He climbed ahill. With tormented labor, in agonizing pain, he cleared a little space onthat hill. Then he sighed, and he lay down. He pillowed his head on a handkerchiefand a jacket. He covered himself with an old, tattered army blanket. ………… and,he died.
Oh, how I cried to witness that death. I slumped and wailedand mourned as one who has no hope – because I had come to love the ragman.…….. Every other face had faded in the wonder of this man. I cherished him, buthe died. I sobbed myself into a deep, emotional, broken hearted sleep. …….. Islept through Friday night and Saturday and its night too. ….. Then, on Sundaymorning, I was awakened by a light; a pure, hard, demanding light. It slammedagainst my sour face. I blinked. I looked and I saw, the last and the firstwonder of all!
There was the ragman, folding the tattered, old blanket withcare, a scar on his forehead, ….. BUT ALIVE! There was now no sign of sorrow orage and all of the rags that he had gathered shined bright and clean.
I lowered my head and trembled at all that I had seen. Iwalked up to the ragman. I fell to my knees and told him my name with shame,for I was a sorry figure next to him. …….. I took off my rags there in thatplace, and I sobbed, with yearning in my voice, I said to him …… dress me.
He dressed me...........My Lord.........He put new clothes on me.........And now, I am clean beside Him.
The Ragman ............. The Christ!
He is despised and rejected of men; aman of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces fromhim; he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
Surely he hath borne ourgriefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten ofGod, and afflicted.
Buthe was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: thechastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.
The Ragman
One Friday morning I noticed a young man, handsome andstrong, walking the alleys of our city. He was pulling an old cart filled withclothes both bright and new, and he was calling in a clear, loud voice; Rags,rags! New rags for old!
Now this is a wonder, I thought to myself, for the man stoodsix foot four, his arms were like tree limbs, hard and muscular, his eyesflashed intelligence. Could he find no better job than this, to be aragman?..........I followed him.
Soon the ragman saw a woman sitting on a porch. She wassobbing into a handkerchief, sighing and shedding a thousand tears. Her kneesand elbows made a sad X. her shoulders shook. Her heart was breaking. …… Theragman stopped his cart. Quietly he walked to the woman, stepping around cans,bottles, and other garbage. “Give me your rag” he said so gently, “and I’llgive you another.” He slipped the handkerchief from her eyes. She looked up andhe laid across her palm a linen cloth so clean and new that it shined. Shelooked in wonder from the gift to the giver. ……… Then, as he began to pull hiscart again, the ragman did a strange thing; he put her stained handkerchief tohis own face….. then, HE began to cry, to weep and sob as grievously as she haddone, his shoulders shaking. …. This is a wonder, I breathed to myself, and Ifollowed the sobbing ragman like a child.
“Rags! Rags! New rags for old!” ................... In a little while, when the sky showed gray behind the rooftops and Icould see the shredded curtains hanging out black windows, the ragman came upona girl whose head was wrapped in a bandage. Her eyes were empty. Blood soakedher bandage. A line of blood ran down her cheek. ….. The ragman looked uponthis child with eyes filled with compassion. He drew a lovely pure white bonnetfrom his cart. ….. “Give me your rag” he said, stroking her cheek, “and I willgive you mine.” …… The child could onlygaze at him as he loosened her bandage, removed it, and tied it around his ownhead. The bonnet he placed on hers. ……… I looked, and gasped at what I saw;with the bandage went the wound! Against his brow it ran a darker, more substantialblood – HIS OWN!
“Rags! Rags! I take old rags!” cried the sobbing, bleeding,strong intelligent ragman.
The sun hurt both the sky now, and my eyes, as the day woreon. The ragman seemed more and more to hurry.
He came to a man leaning against a pole. “Are you going towork, do you have a job?” he asked the man. The man pulled away from the poleand turned, revealing the right sleeve of his jacket; flat, the cuff stuffedinto his pocket. He had no arm! …. “Give me your jacket and I’ll give you mine”said the ragman, in a voice filled with both love and quiet authority. …. Theone armed man took off his jacket. So did the ragman. I trembled at what I saw;THE RAGMAN’S ARM STAYED IN its SLEEVE! …… When the other put it on, he had twogood arms, thick as tree limbs; but the ragman had only one! “Go to work” hesaid.
After that he found a man lying unconscious in a ditch, old,hunched, wizened, and sick; covered by an old, tattered army blanket. Theragman took that blanket and wrapped it around himself. For the man, he leftnew clothes.
And now, I had to run to keep up with the ragman. Though hewas weeping uncontrollably, and bleeding freely at the forehead, pulling hiscart with one arm, stumbling, falling again and again, exhausted, old and sick, he went with terrible speed. Heskittered through the alleys of the city, this mile and the next, until he cameto its limits, and then he rushed beyond.
I wept to see the change in this man. I hurt to see hissorrow. It broke my heart to watch him suffer. And yet, I had to see where hewas going in such haste, perhaps to know what drove him so.
The smitten and afflicted ragman came to a landfill. He cameto the garbage pits. I wanted to help him, but I hung back. ….. He climbed ahill. With tormented labor, in agonizing pain, he cleared a little space onthat hill. Then he sighed, and he lay down. He pillowed his head on a handkerchiefand a jacket. He covered himself with an old, tattered army blanket. ………… and,he died.
Oh, how I cried to witness that death. I slumped and wailedand mourned as one who has no hope – because I had come to love the ragman.…….. Every other face had faded in the wonder of this man. I cherished him, buthe died. I sobbed myself into a deep, emotional, broken hearted sleep. …….. Islept through Friday night and Saturday and its night too. ….. Then, on Sundaymorning, I was awakened by a light; a pure, hard, demanding light. It slammedagainst my sour face. I blinked. I looked and I saw, the last and the firstwonder of all!
There was the ragman, folding the tattered, old blanket withcare, a scar on his forehead, ….. BUT ALIVE! There was now no sign of sorrow orage and all of the rags that he had gathered shined bright and clean.
I lowered my head and trembled at all that I had seen. Iwalked up to the ragman. I fell to my knees and told him my name with shame,for I was a sorry figure next to him. …….. I took off my rags there in thatplace, and I sobbed, with yearning in my voice, I said to him …… dress me.
He dressed me...........My Lord.........He put new clothes on me.........And now, I am clean beside Him.
The Ragman ............. The Christ!
He is despised and rejected of men; aman of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces fromhim; he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
Surely he hath borne ourgriefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten ofGod, and afflicted.
Buthe was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: thechastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.
