Liquid Life

I gave blood today. It’s now the fourth time I’ve done it, and every time I’ve been so sweetly reminded of the gospel through this beautiful picture.  We give blood, “liquid life” as the phlebotomist called it, and there is no substitute.  Man has not to date been able to come up with a material that has the ability of God-made blood to keep us alive. It reminds me of Horatius Bonar’s statement, “No other blood will do” (“Not What My Hands Have Done”).  As I watch them stick a needle under my skin, into my veins, that dusky fluid begins to flow — flow from my veins into those of someone else. Healthy blood, taking the place of sick blood. Rich, dark life and health flowing into someone whose only chance of living lies in someone else’s life.  It makes me stop and think; and then turn away my eyes from my own sacrifice to see one far greater.  With my soul’s eyes I behold the lifeblood of the holy Son of God running down a splintery piece of wood.

And He didn’t just give enough to be okay as long as He ate a Little Debbie cake afterwards. No, He didn’t give just enough to be safe; He gave it all. He gave every last drop of life in His body. Oh, and His blood is so much more valuable than mine.  Mine gives life to one person, and even then, that person’s life will not last forever. His has given life to millions, and will never lose it’s glorious, life-giving power until all the ransomed church of God be saved to sin no more. I give my blood because He gave His. His righteous blood pours over my sin-sick soul and restores health.  It covers and washes away my sin, as my Father looks at me and sees only the life of Him who died for me.  Life — liquid life, and more than that — flowed from His death, and brings life to my self-inflicted death.

“My God, why would you shed Your blood, so pure and undefiled, to make a sinful one like me Your chosen precious child?” (Sovereign Grace Music, “Alas and Did My Savior Bleed?”)

I bore a needle.  He bore three nails and a spear. Mine was a humanitarian gesture that cost me thirty minutes and earned me a t-shirt.  His was a sacrifice beyond comparison that cost more than can be imagined and earned the souls of the redeemed of all ages –people who will stand around His throne and forever worship Him for the scars from those nails.

My arm is wrapped, and every time I see this purple bandage, I see an object lesson of the most precious blood ever given. I am reminded of the most glorious sacrifice ever made. And I bow my head in worship and grateful adoration to Him whose blood was was much more than blood cells and plasma — it was the hope of the world.

“O the blood of Jesus washes me!
O the blood of Jesus shed for me!
What a sacrifice that saved my life.
O the blood of Jesus washes me!”
(Selah, “O the Blood”)

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