From the moment this earth was formed, it was known that man would make mistakes. It was no surprise that all of us would break eternal laws and fall short of heavenly glory. Thus, a loving father send His first-born son to this earth with an endowment of power and a mission to save us all.

For centuries the faithful brought their lambs to the holy place and killed them by shedding their life-blood. The knife in their hands and the blood upon the ground was a vivid reminder that someday a damned and helpless humanity would shed the life-blood of the Son of God. His blood bought us like money in a purchase. The ownership of our souls passed from the devil of hell to the deliverer on Heaven. We are His, bought with an infinite price. Is it any wonder that we are continually reminded to remember His offering for us? But, oh how easy it is to neglect and to forget, especially when the image of blood and suffering is not before our eyes. In that light I’d like to share a story.

Not long ago, I was trying to put a block of wood in my stove when it slipped and smashed my thumb. The nail instantly turned purple and hurt – oh, it hurt! As the day wore on the pain of my mistake intensified. Pressure built up under the nail until the pain drove me to distraction. Finally I took a knife and relieved the pressure. Off and on for the next 36 hours I tended to the wounded thumb.

Then it came Sunday morning. I went to Church and more of less forgot about the wounded thumb. The congregation began to sing a familiar hymn. My wife opened the book and handed it to me. I sang about half of the first verse. When I glanced down at the book, I was shocked to see the brilliant red of my blood on the stark white of the page – my thumb, again. Embarrassed, I quickly tried to clean it off.

Then suddenly I became aware of the words the congregation was singing, “I tremble to know that for me He was crucified; that for me a sinner, He suffered; He bled and died.” The hymn was “I Stand All Amazed.” I stopped singing, and looked at the blood on the page - the impression in my mind too vivid for words.

Now I don’t know what to make of this experience, but this much I know: The atonement of Christ really happened.

His blood was shed to save us from a fate worse than death. My blood on that page was only a few drops. By comparison, His blood was a torrent.

My blood was the result of my own foolishness. His blood heals the wounds of my foolishness.

My blood stained the page. His blood washes and cleanses all of our stains.

My blood and pain were only a moment. His blood and pain touched the infinite and the eternal.

By the grace of God, may we never forget the significance of His atoning blood.