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Hebrews 9:12 Christ entered once for all into the Holy Place, not with the blood of goats and calves, but with his own blood, thus obtaining eternal redemption.
But blood of Jesus talk still confounds me. The problem is probably in my mind, but that doesn’t make it any less perplexing for me. I just don’t get it. Except in one respect—bleeding hurts.
I know what it is to bleed—to hurt, to be confronted by my own mortality in stark crimson tones. When I am able to understand that Jesus bleeds for me, I don’t have to comprehend the ins and outs of why he bleeds for me. It is enough for me to know that when I gaze upon his bloody brow and his wounded side, I see how much Jesus loves me. “See from his head, his hands, his feet, sorrow and love flow mingled down! Did e’er such love and sorrow meet, or thorns compose so rich a crown?” (Isaac Watts, The Hymnal 1982, #474)