I don’t have to deal with a lot of blood in my life, thank goodness. I am not an emergency room doctor, nor do I work in a slaughterhouse. Both of these professions see a bit of blood on a daily basis, I imagine.

In Biblical times, everyone saw a lot more blood. People raised animals and killed them for meals, and sacrifices. Unlike me, they couldn’t buy a chicken already beheaded, butchered, and plucked at the local market. When I order a hamburger, it arrives in front of me looking nothing like the cow it came from. Even when I make my own hamburger, I pull a blob of pink goo wrapped in plastic from my freezer. I don’t have to look the animal in the eyes and see its fear or confusion or pain. Or witness its blood being spilled. Gruesome.

I could become a vegetarian, but who’s to say the leeks I wrestled from the ground weren’t screaming in pain, in a language I don’t hear, as I yanked them up by the roots. I hope not.

My point is that for me to eat and sustain my life, something else must die. Aside from honey, every other food requires death of some sort. Or as the Bible often puts it, blood.

“In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace” (Ephesians‬ ‭1‬:‭7‬, ‭CSB)‬‬

In the spiritual realm this is also true. For me to live, something else must die. Why? Because for there to be justice, evil must die. God requires perfection. No evil. Only goodness and love. I am not perfect, and no matter how hard I try, I will never be perfectly good.

But God doesn’t want His children to have to die because of sin. He made a way out, if we choose it. First, He gave the method of animal sacrifice. That was a temporary measure that further illustrated how bad we are at being perfect. We couldn’t even get that right.

Fortunately, Jesus came and took the place of all those animal sacrifices. He did live a perfect life so He was the perfect scapegoat for the punishment I deserved. And He died, spilled His blood, so I could live.

I never want to witness what goes on at a slaughterhouse. I’m even more grateful to know I won’t end up at the ultimate slaughterhouse where all evil is destroyed for good. I have Jesus, and His willingness to go there in my place, to thank for that.

Dear God, you are perfect, pure, holy, and true. I am none of those things. I am so glad that you love me anyway and have provided such a simple way for me to escape my punishment and also to be cleansed so I can enter your pristine presence without mucking it all up. I am so very grateful!