Before dawn one Friday morning I noticed a young man, handsome and strong, walking through the back alleys of the city. He was pulling an old cart filled with clothes both bright and new. As he pulled the cart he was calling out in a clear, powerful voice, “Rags! Rags! New rags for old! I take your tired rags!”

“Now, this is a curious thing,” I thought, for he seemed to be such a good, strong young man. Could he find no better job than this, to be a ragman in the heart of a city? Driven by my curiosity, I followed him. And I wasn’t disappointed.
Soon the Ragman saw a woman sitting on the porch of a small house. She was crying into a handkerchief. Her heart was breaking and she was wracked with sobs.
The Ragman stopped his cart. Quietly he walked over to the woman. “Give me your rag,” he said gently, “and I’ll give you a new one.” The Ragman slipped the handkerchief from her hand, and laid across her palm a linen cloth so clean and new that it shined. The woman stopped crying.
As he began to pull his cart again, the Ragman did a strange thing: he put her old, stained handkerchief to his own face and then he began to weep.
“This is amazing,” I thought, and I followed the sobbing Ragman. “Rags! Rags! New rags for old!” he called out.

The Ragman came upon a young girl whose head was wrapped in a bloody bandage, her eyes vacant and dull. The Ragman paused and took a beautiful yellow hat from his cart. “Give me your rag,” he said softly, “and I’ll give you mine.” The girl only gazed at him vacantly while he loosened the bandage, removed it from her head, and tied it to his own instead. I gasped at what I saw: with the bandage went the wound. The girl’s head was left unblemished, while the Ragman’s head began to bleed. “Rags! Rags! I take old rags!” cried out the sobbing, bleeding Ragman. “New rags for old! Rags!”

He stopped again in front of a one-armed man and asked: “Do you have a job?” “Are you crazy?” the one-armed man sneered. “What can I do?” “Give me your jacket,” said the Ragman firmly and with authority, “and I’ll give you mine.” When they had exchanged jackets I couldn’t believe my eyes. The man now had two good arms, strong as tree limbs, while the Ragman was left with one! “Go to work,” he said warmly as he moved back to his cart.
Struggling to make do with his one arm, crying, bleeding, old and ill, the Ragman began to pull his cart again.
I wept to see the changes in this man who had been so strong and good. When he came to the garbage pits outside the city, he lay down and died.

I must have cried myself to sleep there. And slept through Friday night and Saturday and on through Saturday night as well.
On Sunday morning, I was awakened by a blinding light shining around me. When my eyes got used to it, I saw the last and the first wonder of all.
Before me stood the Ragman.
He was alive, young and strong again! And all the rags that he had gathered shined for cleanliness.
Then I walked to him and asked, “Please take my tired rags and replace them with new ones.”
Taking my old, tired rags, he replaced them with new clothes and said, “Go and tell your friends: If you love one another, all will know that you are my ragmen for the world”. Amen

This version of Walter Wangerin’s story (shortened here) was originally posted on GraceSpace (http://gracespace.org.uk/the-ragman-by-walter-wangerin/).

This is Jesus. This is God. ¹⁵We look at this Son and see the God who cannot be seen. We look at this Son and see God’s original purpose in everything created.

Scripture

Colossians 1:15-20

Reflection

Do you know Jesus?

Do you see God?

Do you keep God to yourself?

Prayer

Our Father in heaven, thank You for not staying there, but coming to earth too. Thank you that we could get to know You through Jesus. Thank you for allowing your Spirit to enter every one of us. You are an awesome God. Amen.