A Better Brother

Brother/sister relationships are all over the board. Some are endearing and tender. Others are strained at best or even non-existant. Most often a healthy brother/sister relationship will look something like a protector/defender and a nurturer/maternal figure.

I have an older brother and let’s just say {nicely} that he is the black sheep of my family. Our relationship would fall into the “non-existant” category. I will leave it at that.

But I have another brother. He is not of this world. No, I am not talking about an alien. I am talking about Jesus, my spiritual brother.

Hebrews, one of my favorite books of the Bible, is rich with imagery, full of Old Testament imagery fulfilled in the Person and work of Christ. The latter part of Hebrews is chock full of encouraging admonitions for the Christian.

This week as I was reading through Hebrews, I was struck by this awe-inspiring beautiful truth: Jesus is my brother. Here it is in the words of the writer himself:

Hebrews 2:11-18 “Both the one who makes people holy and those who are made holy are of the same family. So Jesus is not ashamed to call them brothers and sisters. He says,

“I will declare your name to my brothers and sisters; in the assembly I will sing your praises.”

  Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might break the power of him who holds the power of death—that is, the devil— and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death. For surely it is not angels he helps, but Abraham’s descendants. For this reason he had to be made like them, fully human in every way, in order that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God, and that he might make atonement for the sins of the people. Because he himself suffered when he was tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted.”

I am so encouraged that my Brother, Jesus, understands my humanity- my weaknesses, my propensities- and most of all my needs. Also, because of His cross work, I no longer fear death or am in bondage to it. My Brother is a good, merciful one. He is my Savior, Protector, Mediator. I am loved perfectly by Him.

Is He your brother too?

My Bloody Day

Blood. It’s one of those unpleasantries in life.

As a mom or dad you probably see more than your fair share. As a woman, you see more than most doctors in your earthly existence.

Some people want to toss their cookies when they see it. Others may pass out cold. To odd balls (like me), it is kind of fascinating. Like you don’t really want to see it but you do at the same time.

Today I had a bloody day. No, I am not getting too personal with you. Geez. Who do you take me for? And no, I am not trying to sound like a Briton or Aussie either. 🙂

I began my day with a not-so-lovely reading from the book of Leviticus (part of my through the bible in a year thing). So NOT what to read before breakfast. Blood, blood, and more blood. Words like: slaughter, sacrifice, scapegoat. Then there are the “to do/don’t dos”: sprinkle it, wipe it, burn it, (don’t) drink it.

The highlight of my day was giving blood. No, really- I LOVE giving. It makes me happy to know that my bag o’ red stuff cold save someone’s life. It did mine, once, after a surgery required two units for me to survive the night. I marvel watching the pencil lead sized needle go into my arm and take just a tiny piece of me. Call me crazy.

As I sat there, I thought about blood, what I had read that morning in all its grotesqueness. The Israelites were instructed not to drink the blood of any animal ever because it is the life of the creature. Without it, we cannot live. People all over the world die for lack of what we are so blessed to have readily available here in the U.S.

I thought about the blood of Jesus that makes us clean. The sticky, thick, smelly substance coming from me into that plastic bag, might give someone else life. God gave us life through the murder of His Son. His red human blood came out of his side and ran down His forehead from where they beat the thorns down into his skin.It came out the piercings of both His hands and feet after they drove spikes through. He died, so I could live: the perfect sacrificial, life giver.

So, keeping true to the theme of my day, I ended it with… you guessed it-  more BLOOD.

My youngest lost a molar tonight and the blood flowed freely into the bathroom sink.  Poor boy is “a lot” a bit squeamish (like his dad). I rubbed his back and told him to breathe (like a good mom).

I end today thankful for my bloody day, reminded that without it, I’d be LOST; not just physically, but spiritually as well.