Jesus

Earthquake-proof

Frank

It is a study in contrasts that I’m sure kept civil, structural, and architectural engineering students busy this last semester- the two major earthquakes that struck Haiti and Chile earlier this year. It’s not hard to remember both of these tragic events, the utter devastation in Haiti and the tsunamis in Chile. Millions were donated for relief, headlines were made by those who gave up everything to serve. Add the fact that both of these occurred a month apart and many believed that this was it, that Christ’s return was imminent.

But look past the emotional response. Look past the headlines that caught all of our attention. Look at the details. The Haiti earthquake was a magnitude 7 (for comparison, the famous Northridge earthquake was only 6.7) and the earthquake off the coast of Chile was 8.8. While those numbers look close, because of the way the scale is set the Chilean earthquake was nearly 500 times as powerful as Haiti’s. There were an estimated 230,000 casualties from the Haitian earthquake compared to only 521 in Chile and elsewhere along the South American Pacific coast.
Yes, you read that right, roughly 200,000 more casualties for an earthquake almost 500 times less powerful. Let that sink in and you’re bound to ask, “why?” Location is part of it- the Chilean quake was off the coast versus near Haiti’s capital. But even with the resulting tsunamis, the death count would have been expected to be higher. The 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami claimed nearly the same number of lives as the earthquake in Haiti. (Though even there, location- how far off the coast- played an important role) But location doesn’t tell the whole story.

Early reporting of the earthquake in Chile noted that because of frequent seismic activity, Chileans knew how to respond to the earthquake and much of the infrastructure was modernized to be earthquake-proofed. But earthquakes in Haiti are not rare, so the personal response should have been similar. The key difference then was infrastructure. Sadly it’s no secret that Haiti is the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. And that the earthquake epicenter was near a densely populated area, it becomes obvious why there was such a difference in casualties. When it comes right to it, buildings in Chile were simply built stronger.

“Why do you call me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ and do not do what I say? I will show you what he is like who comes to me and hears my words and puts them into practice. He is like a man building a house, who dug down deep and laid the foundation on rock. When a flood came, the torrent struck that house but could not shake it, because it was well built. But the one who hears my words and does not put them into practice is like a man who built a house on the ground without a foundation. The moment the torrent struck that house, it collapsed and its destruction was complete.“ (Luke 6:46-49)

The Three Little Pigs teaches us that what we build with determines whether we can stand up to the big bad wolf. But Christ teaches us that it is more important what we build on. When thinking about strength, I could not help but reflect on Jesus. My strength is worthless if I’m not relying on His. He is my rock and my foundation. I’m comforted to know that so long as I build on Him as a foundation, I may be shaken but I will not fall. An infrastructure built on Christ is earthquake-proof.

This post is part of Bridget Chumbley’s Blog Carnival. This week’s topic is “strength“. Head on over there to read other insightful posts from a diverse array of bloggers.

Earthquake-proof

Frank

It is a study in contrasts that I’m sure kept civil, structural, and architectural engineering students busy this last semester- the two major earthquakes that struck Haiti and Chile earlier this year. It’s not hard to remember both of these tragic events, the utter devastation in Haiti and the tsunamis in Chile. Millions were donated for relief, headlines were made by those who gave up everything to serve. Add the fact that both of these occurred a month apart and many believed that this was it, that Christ’s return was imminent.

But look past the emotional response. Look past the headlines that caught all of our attention. Look at the details. The Haiti earthquake was a magnitude 7 (for comparison, the famous Northridge earthquake was only 6.7) and the earthquake off the coast of Chile was 8.8. While those numbers look close, because of the way the scale is set the Chilean earthquake was nearly 500 times as powerful as Haiti’s. There were an estimated 230,000 casualties from the Haitian earthquake compared to only 521 in Chile and elsewhere along the South American Pacific coast.
Yes, you read that right, roughly 200,000 more casualties for an earthquake almost 500 times less powerful. Let that sink in and you’re bound to ask, “why?” Location is part of it- the Chilean quake was off the coast versus near Haiti’s capital. But even with the resulting tsunamis, the death count would have been expected to be higher. The 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami claimed nearly the same number of lives as the earthquake in Haiti. (Though even there, location- how far off the coast- played an important role) But location doesn’t tell the whole story.

Early reporting of the earthquake in Chile noted that because of frequent seismic activity, Chileans knew how to respond to the earthquake and much of the infrastructure was modernized to be earthquake-proofed. But earthquakes in Haiti are not rare, so the personal response should have been similar. The key difference then was infrastructure. Sadly it’s no secret that Haiti is the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. And that the earthquake epicenter was near a densely populated area, it becomes obvious why there was such a difference in casualties. When it comes right to it, buildings in Chile were simply built stronger.

“Why do you call me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ and do not do what I say? I will show you what he is like who comes to me and hears my words and puts them into practice. He is like a man building a house, who dug down deep and laid the foundation on rock. When a flood came, the torrent struck that house but could not shake it, because it was well built. But the one who hears my words and does not put them into practice is like a man who built a house on the ground without a foundation. The moment the torrent struck that house, it collapsed and its destruction was complete.“ (Luke 6:46-49)

The Three Little Pigs teaches us that what we build with determines whether we can stand up to the big bad wolf. But Christ teaches us that it is more important what we build on. When thinking about strength, I could not help but reflect on Jesus. My strength is worthless if I’m not relying on His. He is my rock and my foundation. I’m comforted to know that so long as I build on Him as a foundation, I may be shaken but I will not fall. An infrastructure built on Christ is earthquake-proof.

This post is part of Bridget Chumbley’s Blog Carnival. This week’s topic is “strength“. Head on over there to read other insightful posts from a diverse array of bloggers.

Infinite Sadness

Frank

It was an afternoon like any other, killing time at my family’s store by turning anything I could get my hands on into some kind of toy. Grandpa hadn’t yet come back after his daily afternoon nap and Grandma asked if I wanted to go home with her to check on him. Go to Grandma’s house? She didn’t have to ask me twice. Walking up the steps, I unlocked the door helping my grandma with arms full of groceries. I opened the door and stepped aside to let her in. The groceries dropped and my grandma rushed me back down the steps. But I still saw. My grandfather lay lifeless on the kitchen floor.

I was babysat by friends of the family for what seemed like hours (we were watching a PBS documentary on bats; not exactly my idea of a good time) which gave me ample time to reflect on life, death, and the afterlife. At nine years old, it was somewhat comprehensible. I understood heaven, kinda understood hell, and didn’t for the life of me understand purgatory (and still don’t). I rationalized the eternal consequence of what just happened, but did not feel anything about what that meant for those of us still living in this life. Perplexed, with wheels always turning, I wondered what this life really meant.

I thought a lot about it, but didn’t feel anything. At least not until a few days later, when after the funeral I found my sister engulfed in tears sitting at a typewriter at our grandparent’s house. On the page were written all of her feelings; a last goodbye from his little princess. Then, and only then, was I able to understand sadness.

As the years passed, I suffered more loss. My favorite uncle passed away while I was in the eighth grade, countless friends of the family passed away over the years, and I lost my father right as my junior year in college began. Because of this, I thought I understood death and understood sadness.

When I became a disciple of Jesus four years after my father died, eternal life took on more significant a meaning than paintings of angels sitting on clouds in heaven. “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:55) So when I next faced death,I thought my faith was mature enough to handle it. Or so I thought, I still didn’t know how to feel. My wife lost her foster mom, whom she loved dearly despite only living with her for two years. I didn’t know what to say, I didn’t know how to help, I was paralyzed by this unfamiliar feeling-sadness. Sure I was sad when my dad passed away, but I drowned that out. I had nowhere to run from these feelings. There was no bottle to crawl into. And so I cried. Right around the same time I watched Big Fish and could not stop crying. For hours. This new feeling opened up a wellspring that I has not yet run dry. I now cry at just about anything, most notoriously while watching Finding Nemo.

Now Glynn Young reminded me that “Jesus wept” (John 11:35), and that it’s ok for men to cry. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I don’t like this feeling and so I avoid it as much as I can.

I was avoiding it a couple of weeks ago while my wife’s grandmother suffered a stroke at 102 years of age. Following the stroke, she couldn’t talk, which meant she couldn’t eat. If she couldn’t eat, that meant she was going to die. She had a living will which stated she didn’t want any kind of support, including a feeding tube. So we prepared for the inevitable. She was sharp as a knife in her mind, but she couldn’t communicate. We had to assume she was preparing for the inevitable as well. Watching her, still in her bed biding time, I was consumed with sadness. I wasn’t sad about the inevitable loss of her life, she was 102 after all. But I could not help but to think about what must have been going through her mind. She knew she was about to die and couldn’t do a thing about it. Again, that sadness paralyzed me.

Recently, my wife and I watched the Time Traveler’s Wife. Again, I felt this “melancholy and infinite sadness” as I related to Eric Bana’s character towards the end. (kinda spoiler alert if you haven’t seen it) Because he could travel through time, he knew when he was going to die. How would he have felt? What was he thinking? I was just as torn watching The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. (another spoiler if you haven’t seen it) Here, Brad Pitt’s character had “aged” to infancy with a completely mature mind to comprehend what was happening. The waterworks started flowing as this baby gripped the love of his life’s finger as he passed away.

I don’t like death. As a Christian, I should embrace it, glory in Christ’s resurrection. But I don’t. I cannot get over the sadness that comes with it. I can’t help but think about the inevitable end to our mortality and the loved ones left behind. To be honest, I don’t want to die. In high school, an exercise in my psychology class asked each of us to list one thing we were afraid of. My answer was death. Twenty years later, I wouldn’t change that answer.

Jesus presents quite the paradox. Facing the knowledge of his own death, he wept in the Garden. He struggled with it so much, he escaped to pray about it three times. Yet he surrendered to his Father’s will and willingly marched towards the Cross. Just a short time before, the brother of a couple of his best friends died and there we read the shortest verse in the Bible, “Jesus wept.” Why? He was about to raise Lazarus from the dead, he knew the lifeless body before him was not going to remain that way. Was he moved by compassion towards his friends? Was he gripped with the knowledge of his own death? While he could discern what was in the hearts of his disciples and foresaw Judas’ betrayal, could it be that he didn’t know how his own story was going to play out? Surely he knew death held no power. He saw the glories of heaven first-hand and witnessed the countless number of lives who waited in “Abraham’s bosom”. Yet he still cried.

While I don’t understand it, I’m going to take Jesus’ example as permission to feel sadness with respect to death. Yes, I believe in the resurrection. Yes, I believe we should rejoice when a loved one gets to enter into God’s heavenly Kingdom. But I will still feel sadness. I will still cry. So the next time you see me at a movie bawling my eyes out, don’t be surprised.

Infinite Sadness

Frank

It was an afternoon like any other, killing time at my family’s store by turning anything I could get my hands on into some kind of toy. Grandpa hadn’t yet come back after his daily afternoon nap and Grandma asked if I wanted to go home with her to check on him. Go to Grandma’s house? She didn’t have to ask me twice. Walking up the steps, I unlocked the door helping my grandma with arms full of groceries. I opened the door and stepped aside to let her in. The groceries dropped and my grandma rushed me back down the steps. But I still saw. My grandfather lay lifeless on the kitchen floor.

I was babysat by friends of the family for what seemed like hours (we were watching a PBS documentary on bats; not exactly my idea of a good time) which gave me ample time to reflect on life, death, and the afterlife. At nine years old, it was somewhat comprehensible. I understood heaven, kinda understood hell, and didn’t for the life of me understand purgatory (and still don’t). I rationalized the eternal consequence of what just happened, but did not feel anything about what that meant for those of us still living in this life. Perplexed, with wheels always turning, I wondered what this life really meant.

I thought a lot about it, but didn’t feel anything. At least not until a few days later, when after the funeral I found my sister engulfed in tears sitting at a typewriter at our grandparent’s house. On the page were written all of her feelings; a last goodbye from his little princess. Then, and only then, was I able to understand sadness.

As the years passed, I suffered more loss. My favorite uncle passed away while I was in the eighth grade, countless friends of the family passed away over the years, and I lost my father right as my junior year in college began. Because of this, I thought I understood death and understood sadness.

When I became a disciple of Jesus four years after my father died, eternal life took on more significant a meaning than paintings of angels sitting on clouds in heaven. “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:55) So when I next faced death,I thought my faith was mature enough to handle it. Or so I thought, I still didn’t know how to feel. My wife lost her foster mom, whom she loved dearly despite only living with her for two years. I didn’t know what to say, I didn’t know how to help, I was paralyzed by this unfamiliar feeling-sadness. Sure I was sad when my dad passed away, but I drowned that out. I had nowhere to run from these feelings. There was no bottle to crawl into. And so I cried. Right around the same time I watched Big Fish and could not stop crying. For hours. This new feeling opened up a wellspring that I has not yet run dry. I now cry at just about anything, most notoriously while watching Finding Nemo.

Now Glynn Young reminded me that “Jesus wept” (John 11:35), and that it’s ok for men to cry. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I don’t like this feeling and so I avoid it as much as I can.

I was avoiding it a couple of weeks ago while my wife’s grandmother suffered a stroke at 102 years of age. Following the stroke, she couldn’t talk, which meant she couldn’t eat. If she couldn’t eat, that meant she was going to die. She had a living will which stated she didn’t want any kind of support, including a feeding tube. So we prepared for the inevitable. She was sharp as a knife in her mind, but she couldn’t communicate. We had to assume she was preparing for the inevitable as well. Watching her, still in her bed biding time, I was consumed with sadness. I wasn’t sad about the inevitable loss of her life, she was 102 after all. But I could not help but to think about what must have been going through her mind. She knew she was about to die and couldn’t do a thing about it. Again, that sadness paralyzed me.

Recently, my wife and I watched the Time Traveler’s Wife. Again, I felt this “melancholy and infinite sadness” as I related to Eric Bana’s character towards the end. (kinda spoiler alert if you haven’t seen it) Because he could travel through time, he knew when he was going to die. How would he have felt? What was he thinking? I was just as torn watching The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. (another spoiler if you haven’t seen it) Here, Brad Pitt’s character had “aged” to infancy with a completely mature mind to comprehend what was happening. The waterworks started flowing as this baby gripped the love of his life’s finger as he passed away.

I don’t like death. As a Christian, I should embrace it, glory in Christ’s resurrection. But I don’t. I cannot get over the sadness that comes with it. I can’t help but think about the inevitable end to our mortality and the loved ones left behind. To be honest, I don’t want to die. In high school, an exercise in my psychology class asked each of us to list one thing we were afraid of. My answer was death. Twenty years later, I wouldn’t change that answer.

Jesus presents quite the paradox. Facing the knowledge of his own death, he wept in the Garden. He struggled with it so much, he escaped to pray about it three times. Yet he surrendered to his Father’s will and willingly marched towards the Cross. Just a short time before, the brother of a couple of his best friends died and there we read the shortest verse in the Bible, “Jesus wept.” Why? He was about to raise Lazarus from the dead, he knew the lifeless body before him was not going to remain that way. Was he moved by compassion towards his friends? Was he gripped with the knowledge of his own death? While he could discern what was in the hearts of his disciples and foresaw Judas’ betrayal, could it be that he didn’t know how his own story was going to play out? Surely he knew death held no power. He saw the glories of heaven first-hand and witnessed the countless number of lives who waited in “Abraham’s bosom”. Yet he still cried.

While I don’t understand it, I’m going to take Jesus’ example as permission to feel sadness with respect to death. Yes, I believe in the resurrection. Yes, I believe we should rejoice when a loved one gets to enter into God’s heavenly Kingdom. But I will still feel sadness. I will still cry. So the next time you see me at a movie bawling my eyes out, don’t be surprised.

What kind of Christian are you?

Frank

One of my buds approached me at church last week and greeted me by saying, ” ‘sup ninja?” And my wheels started turning. I don’t think he meant anything by it, but that’s a pretty good description- I’m ruthless, deadly, skilled in the Art of War. Or then again, maybe I’m not. But I think that’s a pretty good description of me as a Christian. So what kind of Christian are you?

  • Ninja: You work best behind the scenes. Effective and efficient. May never get credit and is seldom seen, but we know after you’ve been there, that the job got done.

  • Pirate: You’re always seeking the next adventure. Your focus is on the treasure stored for you… somewhere marked with an ‘x’. And you smell.

  • Rambo: Strong and independent. Out of place in the world because you were bred for battle. Better not get in your way.

  • Homer Simpson: You’re clumsy and not very bright. But somehow, some way, everything seems to work out for you.

  • Ned Flanders: To quote a comedian I once heard, “you have every book of the Bible memorized, but you can’t remember to turn off your turn signal.” Your religiosity turns people off, but you’re genuine and sincere.

  • Jack Bauer: Need something done? We turn to you. You’ll do whatever it takes, though your morality can best be described as “grey”.

  • Lost: No, not with respect to salvation, but referencing the TV show. You have a constant tension between faith and reason, science and the supernatural. Everyone is trying to figure out what makes you tick.

  • Superman: Seemingly invincible, nothing seems to shake your faith. But there’s one thing that’s your kryptonite, and it can kill you.

  • Spider Man: You keep your sense of humor in every trying circumstance. Your faith is stronger that it looks. But you don’t choose the best of friends.

  • Simon Cowell: You always have an opinion. But you speak the truth in love (ok, I’m reaching here).

  • Meredeth Grey: You narrate your life as there always seems to be drama around you. You are a faithful friend, if indecisive.

  • Rocky: You can take a punch. You’re an underdog. No matter how many times you get knocked down, you always get back up.

  • Jesus: ‘nuff said.

So, what kind of Christian are you?

If none of the above, make up your own!

What kind of Christian are you?

Frank

One of my buds approached me at church last week and greeted me by saying, ” ‘sup ninja?” And my wheels started turning. I don’t think he meant anything by it, but that’s a pretty good description- I’m ruthless, deadly, skilled in the Art of War. Or then again, maybe I’m not. But I think that’s a pretty good description of me as a Christian. So what kind of Christian are you?

  • Ninja: You work best behind the scenes. Effective and efficient. May never get credit and is seldom seen, but we know after you’ve been there, that the job got done.

  • Pirate: You’re always seeking the next adventure. Your focus is on the treasure stored for you… somewhere marked with an ‘x’. And you smell.

  • Rambo: Strong and independent. Out of place in the world because you were bred for battle. Better not get in your way.

  • Homer Simpson: You’re clumsy and not very bright. But somehow, some way, everything seems to work out for you.

  • Ned Flanders: To quote a comedian I once heard, “you have every book of the Bible memorized, but you can’t remember to turn off your turn signal.” Your religiosity turns people off, but you’re genuine and sincere.

  • Jack Bauer: Need something done? We turn to you. You’ll do whatever it takes, though your morality can best be described as “grey”.

  • Lost: No, not with respect to salvation, but referencing the TV show. You have a constant tension between faith and reason, science and the supernatural. Everyone is trying to figure out what makes you tick.

  • Superman: Seemingly invincible, nothing seems to shake your faith. But there’s one thing that’s your kryptonite, and it can kill you.

  • Spider Man: You keep your sense of humor in every trying circumstance. Your faith is stronger that it looks. But you don’t choose the best of friends.

  • Simon Cowell: You always have an opinion. But you speak the truth in love (ok, I’m reaching here).

  • Meredeth Grey: You narrate your life as there always seems to be drama around you. You are a faithful friend, if indecisive.

  • Rocky: You can take a punch. You’re an underdog. No matter how many times you get knocked down, you always get back up.

  • Jesus: ‘nuff said.

So, what kind of Christian are you?

If none of the above, make up your own!

Memorial

Frank

(Thanks to Fred for the inspiration!)

We are a species created to remember. Nearly every country on Earth has memorials erected to honor fallen soldiers, past leaders/heroes and historical events. I love to visit Washington, DC- I city built of memorials. Perhaps the most moving is the Vietnam Memorial, where the name of every fallen soldier is listed. I haven’t yet seen the WWII Memorial, which saw so many soldiers lost that it would be near-impossible to list every name. Instead are stars, representing 100 fallen soldiers. There are 4048 such stars.

Today you are likely to enjoy a barbecue, take in a movie, or maybe visit the beach or a baseball game. There might be parades or memorial events at the local cemetery. But the real celebration of Memorial Day is enjoying the freedoms earned and protected by our fallen soldiers and those presently in the fight. In such a way, we are living memorials as our lives honor those who fought and fight for all that we have.

The Bible is likewise filled with memorials. Stones erected, places renamed, and altars built to remember what God had done for His Chosen People. Just a quick sampling: the naming of Bethel, where Jacob dreamt of the Stairway to Heaven; The twelve stones marking where the Nation of Israel crossed the Jordan; the place of Ebenezer, where the Israelites saw victory over the Philistines. After Christ, we have the memorial of the bread and wine, but with the curtain of the Temple torn in two and the tomb found vacant, there was not a physical memorial erected to memorialize what Jesus had done.

But there doesn’t need to be. We are that memorial. Paul writes, “You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by everybody. You show that you are a letter from Christ, the result of our ministry, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts.” (2 Corinthians 3:2-3, emphasis added)

Just as we celebrate Memorial Day today by enjoying the freedoms won for us, we celebrate the memorial of Jesus Christ every day by allowing our lives to be a testimony of the sacrifice offered on our behalf. Is you life a memorial to the sacrifice of Jesus?

Memorial

Frank

(Thanks to Fred for the inspiration!)

We are a species created to remember. Nearly every country on Earth has memorials erected to honor fallen soldiers, past leaders/heroes and historical events. I love to visit Washington, DC- I city built of memorials. Perhaps the most moving is the Vietnam Memorial, where the name of every fallen soldier is listed. I haven’t yet seen the WWII Memorial, which saw so many soldiers lost that it would be near-impossible to list every name. Instead are stars, representing 100 fallen soldiers. There are 4048 such stars.

Today you are likely to enjoy a barbecue, take in a movie, or maybe visit the beach or a baseball game. There might be parades or memorial events at the local cemetery. But the real celebration of Memorial Day is enjoying the freedoms earned and protected by our fallen soldiers and those presently in the fight. In such a way, we are living memorials as our lives honor those who fought and fight for all that we have.

The Bible is likewise filled with memorials. Stones erected, places renamed, and altars built to remember what God had done for His Chosen People. Just a quick sampling: the naming of Bethel, where Jacob dreamt of the Stairway to Heaven; The twelve stones marking where the Nation of Israel crossed the Jordan; the place of Ebenezer, where the Israelites saw victory over the Philistines. After Christ, we have the memorial of the bread and wine, but with the curtain of the Temple torn in two and the tomb found vacant, there was not a physical memorial erected to memorialize what Jesus had done.

But there doesn’t need to be. We are that memorial. Paul writes, “You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by everybody. You show that you are a letter from Christ, the result of our ministry, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts.” (2 Corinthians 3:2-3, emphasis added)

Just as we celebrate Memorial Day today by enjoying the freedoms won for us, we celebrate the memorial of Jesus Christ every day by allowing our lives to be a testimony of the sacrifice offered on our behalf. Is you life a memorial to the sacrifice of Jesus?

Universal Donor

Frank

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)

Universal Donor

Frank

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)