"Come, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and he who has no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price."
Isaiah 55:1 (ESV)
In my village, once a year, there is a giving day. Everyone brings what they have to offer and no longer need — bicycles that have had their time, barely-worn clothes, well-read books, toys the children have outgrown. Everything is laid out on tables in front of the village hall, and anyone may help themselves. It is a true treasure trove, where everything is free — for one day.
But the next morning, reality returns. At the bakery, woe to anyone who has forgotten their means of payment! Freely given things, in our world, are the exception. A brief parenthesis that closes quickly. For everything else, you need a card, a PIN, a terminal that validates.
And we end up — often without realising it — projecting this logic onto God. As if, there too, one had to "pay one's dues." To accumulate efforts, good deeds, proof of goodwill, in order to earn His love. As if grace had a price tag, and we had an account balance to present.
What a mistake!
With God, the day of giving lasts all year long. Grace knows no inflation. It cannot be sold, negotiated, or earned. The peace of the soul, the forgiveness that lifts you up, the deep joy that no longer depends on circumstances — no payment terminal could ever process these. They are gifts that can only be received.
The prophet Isaiah was already crying out, with such good sense and tenderness: "Come, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters! Even if you have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy without money and without price…" There is a logic here that disarms: one comes to buy without paying. This is the gospel before the Gospel.
Christ does not wait until we are rich in merits before welcoming us. He simply asks us to come with empty hands, ready to receive.
"For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God."
Ephesians 2:8 (ESV)
The gift. Not the wage. Not the reward. Not the contract. The gift.
And faced with this immense gift, there is nothing left for us to repay. Only to say thank you. And perhaps, in turn, to become "days of giving" for those who still believe they have to pay to be loved.