“And he said, What hast thou done? the voice of thy brother’s blood
crieth unto me from the ground.” (Genesis 4:10 KJV)
The Blood of Jesus pools at the soldiers’ feet surrounding the whipping yard, spraying those nearby, spraying those ripping His flesh. Were they ever the same? Did Jesus’ drops of blood that touched them heal the afflictions of those who wielded the Cat of 9 tails, destroying His body?
When the soldiers ripped at His beard and slapped His face, when the blood transferred from God to Man, did they feel the change in their spirits? Were they startled? Were they ashamed?
Every step along the Via doloRosa was stained with blood. Those who screamed “Crucify Him!” surrounded and followed after Him. As their feet stepped on the bloody droplets on the ground did miracles change their lives? Did the blood burn their skin? Did it tingle? Did it warm them to their souls? Did they understand what was happening?
When Simon of Cyrene lifted the cross, put it on his own shoulder and Jesus’ blood covering the cross transferred onto Simon’s face, were his eyes opened? Did he still see the battered face of a condemned man, or did he now see the face of God?
When the soldiers pounded the nails through Jesus’ wrists and they were sprayed by gushing blood, did they stop, even for a moment? Did they feel the touch of anticipation in the dampness? Did they recognize that something was different?
When Mary and John sat at the foot of the cross, praying and weeping, the precious blood of Jesus was trailing down the wooden cross – dripping from His arms, dripping from His feet onto their clothing, onto their faces – did they feel the new life that was about to birth, or were they so torn by grief that they couldn’t see that each precious drop would birth to a new nation, strong in miracles and power?
Did Jesus’ last words pierce the sky like lightning, capturing the soul of anyone who heard?
When the soldier pierced Jesus’ side, being sprayed with water and blood that flowed from Him, did he feel the hand of God? Did he step back and recognize that this blood, this water, wasn’t the same as the hundreds of other men’s that he had seen before? Did the water of the spirit flow over him? Did he hear the voice of God?
When the sky turned dark and the earth trembled, did they feel God step down to touch the body and soul of His precious son?
When they lifted Jesus’ body down from the cross, did the last few drops touch the hands of the called? Did they feel the burning and stirring inside of something miraculous about to happen?
Are there yet drops of His blood that have seeped deep into the soil at the place called Golgotha, that by its very presence makes the city Holy, not for what it is, but for who left His blood along a pre-ordained path?
Are my hands stained with Jesus’ Blood when I walk away from the path He pre-ordained me to, like the many who strayed back then, and in their ignorance and anger, drained the miracle giving, life healing, Blood of Jesus out onto the ground?
Do I stand on hallowed ground and cry “No, it’s too hard” or like Simon of Cyrene, do I pick up the cross and wrap an arm around my beaten circumstance and walk toward the word God spoken into my life?
If I had held one drop of Jesus’ blood in the palm of my hand, could I have seen the eternal face of God in its reflection?
Thank you God for a sacrifice I may never truly understand the ramifications of, for a gift of which I may never realize the full preciousness.
By Linda J Humes
Written 3-28-2009
Linda J. Humes 