Lesser Blood?

Lesser blood.  That was my first thought.  I am not proud of that but there it is.

I was secluded in the ladies restroom at the hospital where my son was awaiting a diagnosis about a pain in his side.  The doctor was thinking this was an appendix thing and ordered a test to confirm that and we were waiting for the results.    The doctor was sure the tests would confirm their initial suspicions and talking about surgery to remove his appendix, my husband was praying that God would guide the hand of the surgeon and John was whispering to me that he didn’t want surgery and fighting back tears.  I was praying that God would just heal John now and spare him the pain of surgery; He had done that for John once before and I know He could again.  But for some reason I just didn’t have peace about that.

I needed peace.   Not just peace and quiet which is sometimes hard to find in a hospital, but I wanted God’s peace.  I wanted to know how to pray for John.  Do I pray for healing to spare him the surgery or like my husband, do I pray that God guides the surgeon’s hand and speed his healing afterward?

I have to admit, again I am not proud of this, that when considering healing,

I thought of healing through the surgery and beyond as a lesser healing than a healing that would spare him the surgery. 

Maybe that’s why God showed me what I called a lesser blood.

When I was praying God showed me a drop of Jesus’ blood. A drop shed in the Garden of Gethsemane. One drop of blood from Jesus’ brow. That’s the blood I thought of as lesser.  I saw it as pre-crucifixion blood and therefore, somehow, lesser.  I told you I wasn’t proud of this.

But then I saw that drop of blood land on John’s head and expand slowly and spread out. It continued to spread and expand until it covered him from the top of his head to the tip of his toes – like a blanket.

I stood there amazed at what I had just seen.  My son covered in the blood of Jesus – the “lesser blood” – the pre-crucifixion blood.

That vision gave me peace, amazing peace.  One drop of Jesus’ blood was sufficient to blanket my son!

I still didn’t know what path this healing would take but I knew my son was covered by God’s love and protection and either way, His grace would be sufficient for all of us.  I left the seclusion of the ladies’ room and returned to the emergency room to find that the tests revealed an inflammed appendix and surgery was scheduled for the next morning.

While that vision gave me tremendous peace, it also left me with questions.

Why did God show me that blood?

Why not the blood from the nails in his hands?

Or his feet?

Why not show me the blood from his side when He was pierced there?

Why this blood shed in the Garden of Gethsemane?

I did some research and found different commentaries and theories, some which only presented more questions and some that I will study more in detail later, but nothing that really answered that question for me.

I prayed for understanding and here’s why I think God showed me that blood.

It was in the Garden of Gethsemane that Jesus surrendered to His Father’s will.

While He had always done His Father’s will, doing His Father’s will had not, up to this point, required that He shed His blood or that He experience separation from His Father – a separation brought about by His willingness to take our sins upon Himself – the sins that kept us from God would also keep Jesus from His Father, at least for a time.

Luke 22 tells us:

And He came out and proceeded as was His custom to the Mount of Olives ; and the disciples also followed Him. When He arrived at the place, He said to them, “Pray that you may not enter into temptation.” And He withdrew from them about a stone’s throw, and He knelt down and began to pray,   saying, “Father, if You are willing, remove this cup from Me; yet not My will, but Yours be done.   “Now an angel from heaven appeared to Him, strengthening Him. And being in agony He was praying very fervently ; and His sweat became like drops of blood, falling down upon the ground.

Jesus surrendered to His Father’s will in the Garden of Gethsemane.

It wasn’t easy; it wasn’t a foregone conclusion.

It was agony – so much so that He sweat blood.

The crufixion didn’t bring Him as much agony as this;

He didn’t sweat blood on the cross, angels didn’t appear to strengthen Him on the cross.

Why?

Because the harder part of carrying out His Father’s will was the surrender.

And that took place in the garden.

My surrender took place in the ladies’ restroom.

This is what I learned from this.  I would rather my son had been spared surgery.  But I didn’t have peace about praying that way.  I didn’t have peace at all until I saw that blood dripping down my son’s face.  That was when I surrendered.  I gave up wanting my outcome and accepted that God knows best and I surrendered to His plan – however it would play out.

And that was when I experienced peace. Incredible peace.

Peace comes after the surrendering of my will, not before.

It simply doesn’t work the other way; I know, I have tried it.

John had the surgery and recovery has gone well.

I am grateful for the healing power of Jesus,

the steady and sure hands of the surgeon,

the compassionate care of the nurses

and the blood of Jesus that covers my son then and now.

I am grateful for the peace that surpasses all understanding.

And I am grateful for understanding when I am granted that.

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