As I write this it is Good Friday. We were reminded in our worship service today that we have 364 days each year where we are called to focus on the joy we have in Jesus. But on this one day, our attention is on suffering, the suffering that God endured on our behalf.
This morning I spent time with a friend who is receiving chemotherapy. At this point in her treatment, the recommendation is for blood transfusions to stabilize her body’s response. My friend was clearly ambivalent about getting the blood. As a retired nurse, her memory of transfusions included bad reactions and transfer of illness. My concern was not so much about the blood but rather what damage the chemotherapy was doing to her body that made transfusions necessary.
We decided to go ahead with the infusion of blood. I was glad that I could be with her as the process began. I watched as witnesses checked identification numbers and blood types to make sure this was a match. I watched as the blood began to drip from the frozen bag into the line that had been surgically placed into my friend’s body.
There was something impactful about watching blood drip on Good Friday. The blood I was watching was given by someone. The donated blood has potential to save a life.
More than two thousand years ago, the blood of my Friend, Jesus, dripped on Calvary. He didn’t just give a pint. He gave it all. He asks us to remember this when we take communion. “This is my blood shed for you.”
My eternal life is dependent on His blood.
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