一位富人和他的儿子都非常喜欢珍贵的艺术藏品，他们的收藏应有尽有，从毕加索的到拉斐尔的。他们经常坐下来一起欣赏这些伟大的艺术作品。
越南战争爆发，儿子奔赴战场。英勇无畏的他，一次在救助另一个士兵时，不幸牺牲了，父亲听到这个噩耗，为家中唯一的儿子的死悲痛欲绝。
一个月后，也就是圣诞节前夕，门外传来敲门声，一位年轻人站在门口，手里还提着一大包东西。他说：“先生，您不认识我吧，您儿子就是为了救我才牺牲的。那天，他救了许多人的命，在把我背到安全地方的时候，一颗子弹射中了他的心脏，他就这样牺牲了。他常常提起您，以及你们对艺术的热爱。”
这位年轻人把包裹拿了出来。
“我知道，对于您来说这是微不足道的，虽然我不是一个真正的艺术家，但我认为您的儿子一定很想让您拥有它。”
父亲把包裹打开，一副儿子的画像呈现在他面前，是这位年轻人画的。他吃惊地盯着画像，这位军人竟然将儿子的个性表现得淋漓尽致。画像上儿子那双眼睛深深地吸引了他，他不禁热泪盈眶。他谢过年轻人，并要付钱买下这幅画。
“噢，不，先生，我无法报答您儿子的救命之恩，就把这当做礼物送给您吧。”
父亲把儿子的画像挂在壁炉上方，每有客人来访，他都会先让他们看儿子的画像，然后再给他们看自己的艺术藏品。几个月后，富人去世了，他收藏的画将被隆重拍卖，许多业内名流齐聚于此，兴奋地欣赏着这些名画，他们都有机会买一副，自己收藏。拍卖桌上放着那副儿子的画像。
拍卖师敲着槌子说：“首先，我们拍卖这幅儿子的画像，有人愿意出价买它吗？”台下鸦雀无声。此时，叫嚷声从屋子的后面传来：“我们想看名画，略过这幅吧！”但拍卖师坚持着：“有人出价吗？谁先出价？100美元，200美元？”愤怒的叫嚷声又传来了：“我们不是来看这幅画像的，我们要看梵高、伦勃朗的画。开始正式拍卖吧！”但拍卖师仍继续拍卖这幅画像：“儿子！儿子！谁要儿子？”
最后，一个声音从屋子的最后面传来，是一位从事多年园艺工作的园丁和他的儿子。“我出10美元买这幅画。”因为太穷，他只能付得起这么多。“10美元，有人出20美元吗？”“10美元就给他吧，我们好来看大师的作品。”“出价10美元，真的没有人出20美元吗？”
人群愤怒了，他们不想看儿子的画像。他们想为自己的艺术收藏做些更有价值的投资；拍卖师敲起了槌子：“10美元一次，10美元两次，10美元，成交！”第二排就坐的一个男人大声叫着：“现在该开始拍卖收藏品了吧！”
拍卖师把槌子放下了。
“非常抱歉，拍卖已经结束，接受这次拍卖任务时，有人告诉我遗嘱里的一个秘密条约。现在我可以揭开这个条约的谜底了，那就是，只拍卖儿子画像，买了它的人有权继承这位富人的全部财产，包括这些名画。买了儿子画像的人将拥有这一切！”
2000年前，上帝把他的儿子奉献出来，儿子惨死在十字架上。他也说了这样的话，就像这个拍卖师说的一样：“儿子，儿子，谁要这个儿子？”
The Son
A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works of art.
When the Viet Nam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.
About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands. He said, “Sir, you don’t know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly. He often talked about you, and your love for art.”
The young man held out his package.
“I know this isn’t much. I’m not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this.”
The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to pay him for the portrait.
“Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It’s a gift.”
The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected. The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection. On the platform sat the painting of the son.
The auctioneer pounded his gavel. “We will start the bidding with this portrait of the son. Who will bid for this painting?” There was silence. Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, “We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one.” But the auctioneer persisted. “Will someone bid for this painting? Who will start the bidding? ＄100, $200?” Another voice shouted angrily. “We didn’t come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Goghs, the Rembrandts. Get on with the real bids!” But still the auctioneer continued. “The son! The son! Who’ll take the son?”
Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the long-time gardener of the man and his son. “I’ll give $10 for the painting.” Being a poor man, it was all he could afford. “We have $10, who will bid $20?” “Give it to him for $10. Let’s see the masters.” “$10 is the bid, won’t someone bid $20?”
The crowd was becoming angry. They didn’t want the painting of the son. They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections. The auctioneer pounded the gavel. “Going once, twice, sale for $10!” A man sitting on the second row shouted, “Now let’s get on with the collection!”
The auctioneer laid down his gavel.
“I’m sorry, the auction is over. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings. The man who took the son gets everything!”
God gave his son 2000 years ago to die on a cruel cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message today is. “The son. The son. Who’ll take the son?”