Life is in the blood.
Every month we bleed, we lose a bit of our life.
We bleed when we miscarry, we lose the life of another.
This is what it means to be a woman. To be a mother.
This is the sacrifice of motherhood.
To lose a bit of life.
But it is through the bleeding that new life begins.
To some extent, we don’t have control over this. This loss just happens.
How much more amazing is it then that Christ gave himself up for us. He chose to spill his blood.
New life begins this way. There is no other way. Even our bodies know it.
I make my sacrifices willingly. I choose them. And most of the time I am happy to do so. But not always. I choose them, yes, but I don’t like them. I do them because I have to. Because it is the right thing to do. Because it is best for my family.
I used to feel guilty about this. Shouldn’t I have a better attitude about the sacrifices I make?
But maybe not.
The thing about sacrifice is that it isn’t supposed to be easy.
Jesus’ sacrifice wasn’t easy, and he was the Son of God! I doubt he felt happy about making that sacrifice. In fact, we know he did not. He wept tears like blood and begged the Father for a way out. But he did it because he had to. Because it was the right thing to do. Because it was best for His family.
My sacrifices are pitiful in comparison. But it helps to “consider him who endured… so that you will not grow weary or lose heart.”
Because life is wearying, isn’t it? Why else would Jesus command, “Come unto me all you who are weary, and I will give you rest.”
We all grow weary. Blood-letting is wearying. But we serve a God Who knows all about that. Who CHOSE that. To give us rest.