Only The Blood of JESUS

shared by Suzin McNeill 

 During our journey, we all have certain memories that just don't seem to fit  in any particular place that we can explain. Many may call this one simply an archetypal relation. All that I can share in contemplation is that it is wholly, holy unto me.
a vision  
 From a distance I see three crosses. I know exactly that death is occurring in this sight. I am sitting alone on a large boulder. The sky is turbulent with light-ning flashing. I watch. This death at this cross is very different than most that I witnessed from  this same place. The lightning silhouettes the three crosses. The cross in the middle stands out. I know that death has occurred. I must walk to the cross quickly.

Those who stood by are leaving the area
as I venture close. The soldiers are talking loudly and actually seem elated. They speak of  not getting to break His legs. Then, I see that some are asking to take down His body. Why not, the soldiers sneer. He is no good to anyone now, this king of the jews. I hear the painful cries of those who loved Him. They tenderly remove His body from the cross.

 As a young lady, I ease forward and see HIM. This is not just an ordinary  man crucified. HE is somehow different, paler. HIS family carries HIM away.  All are sobbing. The night is very dark now. I wait and walk over to the cross  as the last soldiers are leaving. They admonish me to go home. I walk over to  the very place HIS cross stood. The ground is red and wet with HIS blood. I  reach down and grab a handful of the blood soaked dirt. I carry this handful of dirt tightly clinched. It changes me, and I feel true love for the very first  time in all my life.  

  Today, I still feel this bloodied dirt in my hand. It is still changing me. There  are times that I feel this small handful of wet dirt present within my closed fist. I know now, that it is My Savior's blood and it is still there, just for me. This  simple hand full of blood soaked earth has come through the ages. I feel it and can smell it's scent mingled with the fresh wet dirt. Through the ages of  time and memories, the precious blood of my JESUS still speaks, still radically changes, frees and transforms from death to life, each one it touches. It has  not aged and not one drop upon the earth is wasted. Without HIS precious  blood, I would not be a handmaiden in HIM
 Chapter 13, Page 4  > > > next  page,
From the book The Harvest Is Ready Content Page
Divine Lordship is not a threat; rather it’s the place of greatest safety.