Only The Blood of JESUS

shared by Suzin McNeill 

Dove of Christ

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 nine years old, sitting alone on a large boulder. The sky is turbulent
with lightning 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. 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 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 l.e, each one it touches. It has
not aged and not one drop upon the earth is wasted.  Without HIS precious
blood, I could not go to my Heavenly FATHER. Without HIS precious blood I
would not be ... a handmaiden.

Psalm 34:3 O magniy the LORD with me, and let us exalt his name together.

 Chapter 14, Page 7  > > > next  page chapter 15 page1
From the book The Harvest Is Ready Content Page
Divine Lordship is not a threat; rather it’s the place of greatest safety.