Skip to main content

Meditations on Nothing but the Blood of Jesus

Tonight I sang, "What can wash away my sins? Nothing but the blood of Jesus. What can make me whole again? Nothing but the blood of Jesus... Oh precious is the flow that makes me white as snow. No other fount I know. Nothing but the blood of Jesus."

So much in those words. In times past the celebration of the fact that it's Jesus' blood, not my "blood,sweat and tears", but Jesus blood and His alone that can wash away my sins floods my soul. At other times, rest in the simpleness of it being Jesus plus NOTHING, which makes me right in God's eyes, fills me with peace. But tonight I was compelled while I sang. An argument against all accusations of being legalistic or too idealistic, or too extreme in my convictions filled me.

My heart was shouting, "It's too precious! His blood is too precious! I can't just flippantly do what I desire without any regard to what God says or take some of God's ways and leave behind the others that make me feel uncomfortable or restrained. Jesus' blood is too precious! I can't wink at sin or laugh at it or cozy up next to it... Jesus died for it. Don't you realize NOTHING but the blood of Jesus can wash away my sin!? It takes blood, precious blood, blood from the only pure, perfect, loving, kind One. It cost too much to just do whatever I want to do. It's not that I am trying to earn His favor, it's that He has suffered so much and shown me so much favor... how could I walk all over His grace and sacrifice like that?! The answer to why I do what I do or don't do what I don't do is, 'Jesus suffered, bled and died a cruel death for you and me... that's why!' "

There's seems to be a disconnect about works vs. faith when it comes to salvation. But if I just focus on the road of suffering Jesus took up to save me, all of those confusing arguments fall apart. The truth is NOTHING but the blood of Jesus can wash away my sins, therefore I'll never be able to walk through this life indulging my flesh and making excuses for my sin... there's too much precious, holy, blood that has been spilled to wash me clean of all those ways.

I can't wink at. I can't be entertained by it. I can't approve of those who practice it. I can only soberly stand on the truth that those ways cost Jesus spit in His face, a beard violently pulled out, gruesome tears of flesh all over His body, mockery amidst cardiopulmonary explosion, terrors of pain, and most of all the rejection from His Father; all while His precious blood flowed to save you and me.

When I sang "What can wash away my sins? Nothing but the blood of Jesus!" tonight, I declared why I can't live like my flesh desires. I am not my own. A heavy price was paid for me. It's that expensive grace which saves me. And it's that freely poured out grace which compels me to flee youthful lusts and obey the ways of God. I don't want to mock the blood of Jesus. I don't want to trample under foot His precious blood while I walk towards the fleeting pleasures of what He has declared as sin.

"What can wash away my sins?" isn't just a catchy old gospel hymn. It's the self-sacrificing call of Love on my life to live out the holiness purchased for me. It's a cause to be grieved with God over sin, not to poopoo it. It's a cause to intercede for those in sin and to cover it with self-sacrificing love. Love that would suffer to speak truth and impart grace. It's the price tag on my life.

So, friends, we can now—without hesitation—walk right up to God, into "the Holy Place." Jesus has cleared the way by the blood of his sacrifice, acting as our priest before God. The "curtain" into God's presence is his body. So let's do it—full of belief, confident that we're presentable inside and out. Let's keep a firm grip on the promises that keep us going. He always keeps his word. Let's see how inventive we can be in encouraging love and helping out, not avoiding worshiping together as some do but spurring each other on, especially as we see the big Day approaching.

If we give up and turn our backs on all we've learned, all we've been given, all the truth we now know, we repudiate Christ's sacrifice and are left on our own to face the Judgment—and a mighty fierce judgment it will be! If the penalty for breaking the law of Moses is physical death, what do you think will happen if you turn on God's Son, spit on the sacrifice that made you whole, and insult this most gracious Spirit? This is no light matter. - Hebrews 10:19-31 The Message paraphrase

He loves us too much! He paid too much! I don't want to insult His sacrifice. Oh let me live in that pure fear of God. Not fear of punishment, but fear of trampling on His grace. Not fear of not being good enough. Fear of not responding with my life to His goodness.

Isaiah 51:3


Popular posts from this blog

eyes on the Author- the every morning struggle to walk by faith

I don't wake up full of vision and motivation.  Actually, what motivates me most is the idea that my french press and single-origin coffee from Guatemala are just minutes away from awaking my senses with it's warm, toasty aroma.  And on those days when I get my stiff, puffy-eyed body out of bed and make my way to the cabinet to prep the press with my favorite coffee and find we're out, I feel great motivation to get dressed and drive to the local store so I can hurry up and get back home before too much time has passed and get my coffee going.

Basically, coffee motivates me to get up in the morning.

Mixed in the grogginess between eyes open and that first cup of coffee I remember who I am.

I am not my own.  I am a Christian.  The weight of meaning in that word falls on me like gravity on the fledgling attempts of a young eagle to fly every morning.

I feel myself falling.  Falling. Squawking out a cry, "Help!  Help Lord!  I am yours. Let me hear your loving kindness…

post anesthesia thoughts

(has nothing to do with the post, just a pretty pic i took a long time ago)
I'm not going to over think this post too much.  I had minor surgery today and am still feeling drunk on leftover anesthesia/fentanyl/percocet.  Consider yourself and the three other people reading this warned.
In the past few weeks I've been listening to podcasts from writers, reading articles about blogging and freelance writing, etc.  In one of those I was admonished to write something daily.  Be it a blog post, a journal entry, a poem... something.  Because writers don't just think about writing, they write.  I think my pastor said or wrote that once too.  It struck me then, and when I read this lady's article.  I am a writer.  Not a known writer.  Not the best writer.  But I enjoy writing and I just process life better when I'm writing.  But when I set out to write something, especially publicly, I sometimes step in the quicksand of self-analyzing and get stuck there.  And then I don&#…

An Unlikely 23 Years

Wedding Day- Sept.4, 1993
Connor's birthday- April 1, 2003
During our first separation and pregnancy with Ryland- November 2004
Seeking a new start in Arizona all together- October 2005
 Second separation March 2010
Still together on a desert trail- Spring 2015
Today has been a tough day, emotionally.

Twenty three years ago today I made a vow before God and about 100 family and friends to take James as my husband, to have and to hold from that day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, till death do us part.

Those are some serious promises.  Better, worse, richer and poorer, sickness and health have all been part of these 23 years.  Honestly, most of it has been hard.  We weren't a very likely match at 19 and 21.  He from the big city, me from a small town.  His dad a pharmacist, mine a log truck driver.  We met in a child development class, taking pre-reqs for nursing.  He hated it.  I loved it.  He had long hair and torn jeans and l…