When the Blood Gift is Too Precious to Be Treated Casually

When I saw the photo of blood donation tubing connected to my son's arm, his blood racing into the bag, I was shocked. 

His life blood was flowing out, and every single drop of it was valuable to me. 

I remember thinking, "Who's getting my baby's blood?" I'll be honest here. I couldn't imagine anyone I'd want to have his precious blood, for fear they'd squander the gift. 

Several days ago, a friend on FB posted that he was "dropping off a few red blood cells..." He has O negative blood type, which is particularly precious because it's the least common. 

As a former ER doctor, I was reminded that, over the July 4th holiday, there would likely be someone whose life depended on the unit of blood he had given. 

I could see it in my mind's eye. Hospital staff will process, type, and hang the blood. Family members will watch the life-saving flow drip into their loved one's arm. Rarely will anyone remember that someone took the time to donate, in advance, so that a life could be preserved. 

"We're far too casual about blood gifts..." I told my friend. Suddenly, my mind's eye was riveted on the image of Jesus on the cross, His precious blood spilling from hands, feet, and side. 

We're far too casual about Jesus' blood gift, too.

I wonder how God felt when He saw that holy blood being spilled for us. Did He fear we'd squander the gift? No. He knew we'd squander it. God knew we'd grow callous about the blood, casual about the blood gift. He gave it anyway.

One unit of human blood can "save" three lives. The blood of Jesus can save all lives. Every single one. His blood does more than improve our oxygen-carrying capacity and transport desperately needed nutrients to the brain and other vital organs. The blood of Jesus cleanses us, washes away our sin, satisfies our sin-debt. 

His blood sets us free, yet we treat it casually, as if we were somehow entitled to it. We, who sin as if we can't get enough, deserve nothing but death and hell. Still, the blood gift stands ready to wash it all away. 

You have to sign a consent to get a unit of blood. It outlines the risks and benefits of the transfusion. I've often wondered if we should sign a consent form  for the blood of Jesus so we'd understand, in clear terms, how precious it is and how much is required.

Transfusion consent: Benefits: Sin payment completed. Risks: Discipleship required.

The blood of Jesus is the most precious gift of all. It wasn't given lightly, and it shouldn't be accepted lightly, either. It should inform every decision, color every action, influence every thought. We should be different because of His blood. 

Instead of treating it casually, let's live up to the gift of Christ's blood. Live as if it matters, because it does. 

"He is so rich in kindness and grace that He purchased our freedom with the blood of His Son and forgave our sins. Ephesians 1:7 nlt
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photo courtesy of freeimages.com

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In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: When You're Craving Rest and There's None in Sight

If you feel led to partner with this ministry (US, Jordan, the digital world), here's the link to give your tax-deductible donations: Global Outreach Acct 4841 

Or you can mail your check or money order to: Global Outreach/ PO Box 1, Tupelo MS 38802. Be sure to put Account 4841 in the "for" line.
#disciple 

Gory Gifts: The Biting Cat and the Decapitated Mole

Cats are not my favorite. 

I thought they were supposed to be good for controlling mice at the barn, so I got a mama cat and one of her kittens. I settled them in the tack room at the barn with a nice comfy bed, plenty of food and water, and a clean liter box.

Mama Cat promptly climbed the wood wall and hung at the top, close to the ceiling. She never ate her yummy food or drank her crystal-clear well water. She refused to come down. Finally, she worked her way around to the freezer and jumped out the open window. She left her kitten behind and never came back. 

She still lives behind the barn. I occasionally see her with a new batch of kittens. If she catches mice at the barn, I can't tell it.

The kitten did better. His name is Max. I kept in him the tack room for several days so he'd know that was his home. It didn't help. As soon as I let him out, he headed straight for the house. He's made my back patio his headquarters ever since.

I had the best of intentions. I planned to take him to the vet to be neutered and get his shots. More than once I made an appointment, only to cancel because I couldn't catch him. Time went on. I was ashamed of having to cancel appointments and confess that I couldn't catch my cat. I gave up on the vet visit.

I was determined to gentle the cat, so I tried repeatedly to hold him. He bit me every time. I gave up on picking him up.

A few days ago, my cat had an unexpected turn-around. He meowed like crazy, rubbed on my leg, and insisted I pick him up. I threatened his life if he bit me again. He didn't. Instead, he purred. I was shocked.

This morning, he wanted to be held for at least 30 seconds. This is progress.

A few mornings ago, I walked outside with the dogs to let them potty. There was a decapitated mole on the back steps. Mamie thought it was a prize. I did not.

My friends tell me this is a good sign. I take purring as a good sign. The bloody body parts of a dead mole don't seem like a sign to me.  

It's a gift, they said. He likes you. I'd rather have another flu shot.

Someone suggested I write a blog about the bloody mole gift, but I didn't actually think I could. After all, who wants a blood-stained gift.

It only took a moment to realize that I'm the one who treasures a blood-stained gift. That's the gift Christ gave us when He willingly went to the cross to pay our sin debt and buy our freedom. His nail-scarred hands and sword-pierced side were a bloody, agonizing gift that bought my right relationship with God.

His blood-stained body was laid in a borrowed tomb and, three days later, it was gone. Empty tomb. Resurrected King. 

He's not a bloody gift now. Jesus reigns in heaven and one day, He'll step out of heaven and come back to get us. It will be a glorious day. 

I don't care much for the bloody mole gift, but the blood-stained Savior is another matter all together. That bloody gift is the most precious one of all.

Today, let's thank Him for the price He paid to buy us out of our bondage to sin and treasure the generosity that made our freedom possible. If you don't know Him, you should. He's not just the best gift of all. He's the best friend you can ever have.

"But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, even to those who believe in His name..." John 1:12
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p.s. It's a terrible photo of my cat, but he refused to sit up or to cooperate. Par for the course with him. 
In case you missed the story of Sam's project, here's the link: Sam's Project: Rubber Boots for Barefoot Rwandan Children
If you'd like to give to help buy boots for the barefoot school children of Rwandan, you can go directly to the project page here: Help Sam's Kids

In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: The Untapped Power Grid Project
#catgifts #Jesus #notacatperson

The Orange Tutorial

We were gathered around the table at MOT, eating our breakfast and waiting for worship to begin. My new friend began to peel her orange, let out a little squeak of surprise, and set it back down. The outside of the orange was beautiful, but the inside was black and rotted.

My mind immediately began to ponder a blog post about the hidden blackness. I was just about to reach for the orange when her husband got up to throw it away. 

I called him back. "Wait. I can use that orange." 

There were looks of surprise (because we were just getting acquainted, and they didn't know me well yet) but he returned it to the table and I snapped a picture.

The orange, I thought, was so much like us. Beautiful and healthy on the outside. Black and rotten on the inside.

"The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?" Jeremiah 17:9 niv

No matter how much we clean up our lives, no matter how beautiful we seem on the outside, our hearts are much like the rotten orange, desperately vile and sinful. We are plagued by both the original sin of mankind as well as our own individual sinfulness. 

Left to our own devices, there is no hope. We can never make ourselves clean. We can never make ourselves whole and healthy.

But God.

God created the hearts we have corrupted with our sin, and He still sees them. He still searches the hearts of men. He still knows.

"I, the Lord, search the heart, I test the mind..." Jeremiah 17:10 nasb

On our own, we can never be clean, but in the hands of Almighty God, there is hope.

"Heal me, O Lord, and I will be healed; save me and I will be saved, for Thou art My praise." Jeremiah 17:14 nasb

No matter how dark the stain of sin, the blood of Jesus can wash us white as snow. 

He, alone, can cleanse all the sin, all the wickedness, all the hurt and pain from our hearts. What sin has destroyed, He can restore. 

Ashes turned to beauty. 

Sorrow turned to joy. 

Despair turned to hope.

Today, let's ask God to search our hearts and minds, every nook and cranny, and invite Him to cleanse what needs to be cleansed, heal what needs to be healed. 

Let's allow Him to make us new and fill us with joy, hope, and the beauty of Christ Himself. 

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In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: The Dead Chicken Lesson

Here's the link to the worldwide prayer guide: The Prayer List 

#sin #bloodofJesus #disciple 

We were gathered around the table at MOT, eating our breakfast and waiting for worship to begin. My new friend began to peel her orange, let out a little squeak of surprise, and set it back down. The outside of the orange was beautiful, but the inside was black and rotted.

My mind immediately began to ponder a blog post about the hidden blackness. I was just about to reach for the orange when her husband got up to throw it away. 

I called him back. "Wait. I can use that orange." 

There were looks of surprise (because we were just getting acquainted, and they didn't know me well yet) but he returned it to the table and I snapped a picture.

The orange, I thought, was so much like us. Beautiful and healthy on the outside. Black and rotten on the inside.

"The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?" Jeremiah 17:9 esv

The NIV translates this as "beyond cure". 

No matter how much we clean up our lives, no matter how beautiful we seem on the outside, our hearts are much like the rotten orange, desperately vile and sinful. We are plagued by both the original sin of mankind as well as our own individual sinfulness. 

Left to our own devices, there is no hope. We can never make ourselves clean. We can never make ourselves whole and healthy.

But God.

God created the hearts we have corrupted with our sin, and He still sees them. He still searches the hearts of men. He still knows.

"I, the Lord, search the heart, I test the mind..." Jeremiah 17:10 nasb

On our own, we can never be clean, but in the hands of Almighty God, there is hope.

"Heal me, O Lord, and I will be healed; save me and I will be saved, for Thou art My praise." Jeremiah 17:14 nasb

No matter how dark the stain of sin, the blood of Jesus can wash us white as snow. 

He, alone, can cleanse all the sin, all the wickedness, all the hurt and pain from our hearts. What sin has destroyed, He restores. 

Ashes are turned to beauty. 

Sorrow turned to joy. 

Despair turned to hope.

Today, let's ask God to search our hearts and minds, every nook and cranny, and invite Him to cleanse what needs to be cleansed, heal what needs to be healed. 

Let's allow Him to make us new and fill us with joy, hope, and the beauty of Christ Himself. 

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In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: The Dead Chicken Lesson

Here's the link to the worldwide prayer guide: The Prayer List 

#sin #bloodofJesus #disciple 

Mamie and the Ink Stain

Alas, I fear Mamie the Apprentice Wonder Puppy will never be a Wonder Dog. Mamie is still a puppy at heart, and determined to stay in that cuddly, rowdy state. Maturity would help us both, if she would only embrace it.

I had just returned to my computer after lunch yesterday when I heard a crunching sound. "What is that?" I wondered. The sound continued. My next thought was, "It must be Mamie."  I was right.

Mamie had climbed up on a table (as only a determined puppy can do) and found a blue fountain pen. She had carried it to my red couch and used it as a chew toy. As you can imagine, blue ink went every where in a mad Rorschach pattern. 

My heart sank. Blue ink. All over one cushion of my couch. It looked like a catastrophe.

I jerked the cushion off the couch and raced to the kitchen sink, praying every step of the way. Slipcover off. Rinse the ink. Blot. Spray stain remover. Rinse. Blot. Spray. Rub. Rinse. Spray. On and on it went.

All thoughts of the scene I was writing and the direction I intended to take went right out of my head. The only thing that mattered at that moment was dealing with the stain.

Of course, the dark stain on the blood-red cushion reminded me of the stain of sin on our lives and the only thing that can remove it. The precious blood of Jesus.

I'm shocked, but the stain came out completely. I think it was, at least in part, because I reacted so promptly. The ink didn't have time to soak and dry in the fabric.

Quick action with stains makes a difference, but so does quick action with sin. If we would relent and repent at the beginning of our sin, before the stain has set, what a difference God would make.

Let's do a check of our hearts today and respond with the same urgency as we would if ink were on our couch cushions. 

Is there evidence of the ink-blot stain of sin in our lives? Let's relent and repent. Allow our Lord wash us clean in the precious blood of Jesus. 

Mamie may never reach the maturity of a "Wonder Dog", but we don't have to remain in our foolish, childish state. We can choose to become the mature men and woman God intended us to be. If we will.

"When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child:

but when I became a man, I put away childish things." 

                                                                     1 Corinthians 12:11 nasdb

Therefore leaving the elementary teaching about the Christ, 

let us press on to maturity..."      

                                                     Hebrews 6:1 nasb

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Follow me on Twitter for "in the moment" tweets about my writing day. It's fun. @leannahollis
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In case you missed one of this week's posts, here are the links:  The Opportunity in Trials,  The Monarch Migration Badge,  The Sermon Without Words,  A Matter of Perspective, Living in Goshen: God's Best, Embracing Our Personal Gethsemane, and What is the Point of Suffering: Extracting the Precious.

#Mamie #repent #maturity #Christian #disciple #Shoutgotitout

Covered in the Blood

She had taken a most ungraceful tumble at home, landing in a very unladylike position with her legs folded under her in such a way that she could not get herself up.  A lovely and very graceful woman, her composure was miffed a bit more when she realized she had a freely bleeding wound on her head, and it was quickly making a terrible mess.  As she struggled to get up, the question of what to do about the inability to get up and who to call lost importance beside the question of what to do about her clothing.  To put it delicately, she was lacking a bit. 

She decided in no uncertain terms that she was not calling her daughter.  At last, her husband came in from outside and decided in no uncertain terms that he was calling 911. When they arrived, the wound was cleansed and somehow she managed to convince everyone that it was safe for her to stay at home.

As she told me about her little adventure, we talked about the clothing difficulty and the arrival of the rescue team.  Secretly, I was thinking I would have been mortified.  With the sweetest expression you can imagine, she smiled, waved her hand, and said, "Oh, that was okay.  I was covered in all the blood."  We laughed a bit at that, but I can't help remembering how being "covered in the blood" somehow made her appearance less troublesome, less embarrassing.

One day, we will all stand before the Judgment seat of God, and it will be a much more difficult place than lying on the floor before an ambulance crew.  We will be unrobed of our pretense, our pride, and our arrogance, and we will be seen exactly as we are, unrobed in a sense by the exposure of our sin and our shame.  Mortifying will not begin to describe the experience before Almighty God.  

The only way to survive the Judgment is to be covered in the blood of Jesus.  Scripture tells us that death is what we deserve because of our sin, but we can survive the experience of judgment before God because of the blood of Jesus, who has purchased and freely given us the gift of eternal life.  We don't deserve it.  We can't earn it.  We can't even purchase it. We simply have to be covered by the blood of Jesus, which settles every score and soothes every wound.