Why the Blood?

There is something offensive about blood. My sister faints at the sight of it. My son hated the mere mention of the word "blood" when he was a little boy—probably still does. It's as if we know instinctively what the word of God tells us: "the life of the flesh is in the blood..." (Lev. 17:11).

When God formed Adam, he “breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living creature” (Gen. 3:7). Ever since that day, it has been the role of blood to circulate life through every person’s heart. Contrary to the popular saying, death is not a part of life. Death is the end of life. It is the curse of sin: “For the wages of sin is death” (Rom. 6:23a). Death is our enemy (1 Cor. 15:26).

So when we see blood, a tiny trickle or a fatal gush, it makes sense that we recoil. It makes sense that so many of Jesus’s disciples quit following him after he told them that eternal life could only come through eating and drinking his flesh and blood (Jn 6:53-56). Truthfully, I think I would have too. And it’s little wonder that the Bible is so offensive to so many, filled as it is with blood. In fact, if we aren’t in any way offended by all that death and bloody sacrifice, we are missing the point.

Bloody sacrifice is intended to shock. And it should disgust us. It is smelly, brutal, and barbaric, but no more so than our sin, and that is the point. We are a bloody and foul people (if you don't believe that, turn on the news, read just about any internet comment thread, or submit your own thought-life to the scrutiny of Scripture). Though our culture may, thanks to the residual influence of Christianity, be outwardly more restrained than the ancient cultures of the Bible, our hearts remain brutal and profane. When we compare ourselves with Christ, the God in whose image we were created, the real wonder is that God permits his breath to continue circulating in us at all.

We don’t deserve the gift of life, and yet, profane as we are, we live. To what do we owe this mercy? Disgusting as the thought of it is, we owe it to blood. When we remember that the penalty for sin is death, it stands to reason that the only remedy for sin would be the stuff of life, and only the blood of the sinless and eternal Lamb of God is sufficient to cleanse us from the guilt and the filth of our sin.

And thus, on a Sunday morning we are able to sing some of the most disgusting lyrics ever written and think them lovely—because they are.

There is a fountain filled with blood,
Drawn from Immanuel’s veins,
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains.

The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain in His day;
And there have I, though vile as he,
Washed all my sins away.

Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood
Shall never lose its pow’r,
Till all the ransomed church of God
Are safe, to sin no more.

E’er since by faith I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be till I die.

William Cowper, 1771