Bargain Hounds

by Joel Bates

Are there any bargain hounds out there?  Let me assure you, you’re talking to one of the best.  I’ve been practicing since I was a kid.  There was the time when our small town was having its annual yard sale day, and I left the house with twenty-five cents.  I victoriously returned with an old film camera, a threadbare ball glove, and a bike…never mind that the bike was rust covered and neither tire would hold air.  My mom asked where I got all that junk, and I replied, “I traded up!”
 
It’s natural to want to trade up.  We want to get a bargain for our buck, to come away with the satisfaction that we have gained rather than lost.  This dilemma has been challenging the camp staff lately as we’ve attempted to purge the maintenance shop of “things”—items we have accumulated over many years.  To the newcomers, most of the items are junk, but that’s just because they don’t know the history and don’t see the potential.  Sure, I want it out of the building and off the property, but shouldn’t we get something for it?  After all, we’ve been providing free rent! 

In the end, we agree to try to sell some of it, but then our progress hits a road block as we try to settle on the price tag.  Of course, our asking price doesn’t mean much when the bargain hounds come around, kicking tires and scrutinizing every angle with a fine-tooth-comb all in an attempt to find the flaws to render it worthless.  Reminds me of the man in Proverbs 20:14, “’It’s no good, it’s no good!’ says the buyer, then off he goes and boasts about his purchase.”

Listening to the sermon in church last Sunday, I became convinced that while I may be good at driving a hard bargain, God is pretty bad at it.  The sermon, taken from Genesis 18, retold the account of Abraham and God looking out over the plains of Sodom and Gomorrah, and God says, “I’m going to let you in on a little secret.  I’m going to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah.  There’s so much wickedness down there that an outcry has reached my ears.”
 
God lays His cards on the table, and Abraham, being a shrewd dealer, begins to haggle.  But this is not like two bargain hounds haggling over a used car, the one pointing out all the flaws in hopes of a discount and the other praising all its merits so he can get his asking price.  This haggle is different.  Abraham knows he has no leverage, but he asks anyway, “God would you be willing to come down on the price?  What if there’s 50 good folks in that valley?  Then will you spare them?” 

I picture God scratching his chin, smiling coyly at the meekness of the petitioner and knowing the man who’s asking doesn’t possess the cash to make the purchase.  “Yes, I could come down a little on the price.”

---

I’m sure this story is familiar to you.  Abraham continues to haggle with God in this fashion until he reaches the bottom price—ten righteous people.  “If only ten, what then?” he asks with his hands up, prepared to deflect a blow that surely will come from a holy, all-powerful God who must finally now be insulted.  But instead of a punch comes a promise, “Yes, even if only ten righteous people dwell there, I will not destroy it.” 

If you read your bible or even live very long in this world, then you know the sin story of humanity has a forgone conclusion.  In this account, God’s angelic messengers sent to investigate soon find the faithless failings of these famously fornicating, fearsomely fallow folk in Sodom and Gomorrah.  Judgement comes heavy and harsh in the form of raining fire and putrid sulfur.  It turns out, not even ten righteous ones dwelt in that land.
 
Abraham tried to drive a hard bargain with God, but in the end, God carried out His plan.  Is this simply a case of God pretending to haggle over the price of righteousness, knowing there were not even ten faithful people to be found?  Is this story just another illustration of the disparity between God’s divinity and humanity’s depravity?  You could argue either supposition, but I think scripture is demonstrating something deeper here—namely grace.  I read this account and do not see a God who exercises vengeance with his cruel might, but of a God who, despite an overwhelming tide of wickedness, would stay His hand if only to save a few. 

The direct application here is that wherever you are, if you are a faithful follower of Jesus, you are conferring an unseen, spiritual benefit on those around you.  The fragrance of Christ on you is not just the sweet smell of your own salvation, but also a bastion of good for those who dwell in the land around you.  True, every person must make a choice to declare Jesus to be Lord, but realize the powerful effect we believers have on the world around us.  God said He would spare a land of wickedness for as little as ten righteous people.  If you’re a bargain hound, you know the savings doesn’t get any better. 

But wait...it does!  The second take-a-way from this narrative is that no matter how you slice it, God is just a bad haggler.  He has all the power, holds all the cards, is all deserving of complete justice, and yet He tells Abraham, “Sure, for ten good folks, I’ll hold back my wrath.”  Then He goes and does something even more spectacularly outlandish.  He takes his most valuable possession, His only Son, a prize beyond estimable value, and says to Abraham and all of Abe’s seed, “I’ll make you an even better deal.  How about I give you my Son; I’ll take your sin and give you real life?”  I guess God knew that even if Abraham scoured the planet to come up with one, let alone ten righteous people, he could not do it.  Jesus is the only one. 
​
Jesus says, “You get all of me and all my benefits.”  Terrible salesmen, this father and His son, but terrific saviors.  He goes on, “There’s just one catch.  You give up everything else—all that junk collecting dust—and come follow me.”  Some may hear that and declare, “God sure does drive a hard bargain!  I trade everything and all I get is Him?”  For me, I’d call that trading up.

---

If you would enjoy reading more by Joel, you can find Joel's books on Amazon

lifeoutside by Joel bates

the spice runners by joel bates