My blood-type is O-negative, meaning my blood can be used by anyone in need. Because of this I am diligent about donating regularly. I used to dread it, agonizing over the initial prick of the needle before the blood begins to flow. Now I treat it as routine. Some times go better than others, but when I gave a few weeks ago, I hardly felt it and was done before I knew it.
Once that pint was full, it was quickly whisked away and I will never see it again. I don’t know who needs it and I will never know who will use it. Will it be used during a critical surgery, or be on-hand during a childbirth? Will it save a life or sustain one? I often wonder, and I always pray my blood is put to the best, most needed use.
While my blood can be used by anyone, I am not as fortunate. I can only receive my own type, so I would be dependant on the sacrifice of another stranger if my own life was at risk. But not just any stranger, only one who has the perfect match for my blood-type; one who has perfect blood.
Jesus shed perfect blood. He knows us and knows our specific needs. He knows whether our bodies will accept or reject his transfusion. And while knowing it would be rejected, he donated anyway.
His donation was not the result of a prick from a needle, but from 39 lashes on his back, countless blows, a crown of thorns, nails in his hands and feet, and finally a spear in his side. Yet his blood was spilled voluntarily.
In his struggle, there was no transfusion that could save him. As his life poured out of his body, there were no paramedics to perform CPR or a Red Cross to provide blood. He gave his blood, his life, knowing that there was nothing any of us could give to save him. Our blood is not compatible with his. Still, he gave.
Jesus Christ, our Universal Donor.
“The blood of Jesus, His son, purifies us from all sin.” (1 John 1:7)