Inside a box of our love letters are two communion cups, tiny, plastic, now a little cracked. When we first met, we prayed together, and we asked God to come quickly for us, but secretly hoped He wouldn’t until after our wedding night. We asked that He would come into our relationship, and then we drank together for the first time. “The blood of Christ,” we said.
And the blood of Christ it was, though at the time, we didn’t know how we would experience it in marriage. It was the blood of Christ over our spiritual door-frames when we moved into an apartment and then when we fought hatred toward a sick representation of the church. The blood of Christ ran through the Circulatory System of our marriage at times like one whose heart almost gave up, and yet it kept pumping.
It pumped through an affair. It pumped through natural childbirth three times in three years. It pumped through confession, two miscarriages, and it has pumped through tremendous healing, in a great deal of love and in equal parts pain.
Recently, one or both of us have stood in front of our church to tell our story to many hundreds of ears, and we said words like “abortion,” “pornography,” “affair,” “deliverance,” “restoration,” and “reconciliation.” We know full well that the blood of Christ covers and punctures and enters and heals. We know that Christ has included us in His Gospel Story, the one He told us to go tell – even if it makes us shake all over to tell it.
We want to be like King David in his poetry, magnifying his sea-splitting God, who knows intimate matters in the great picture of Time. We want to recall God’s story in our lives because Faith comes by hearing it – even for ourselves. We recall God, and He increases our faith.
As we hear others’ stories, too, our love grows for the church, and we see her, broken and loved by this ravishing husband with mighty arms and tender mercies for her failures. Ah. We hear story, the Gospel Story, and we are so grateful to belong in such a blood-line. We are so grateful to be family with you, Church.
So tell us, then. Tell us of God in your story. Let us hear it, how He came for you and broke you and then became the sweet balm for your soul. Tell us the story of the blood of Jesus, how it pumps, how it still rushes in and over you today.