“One Drop”
by Clint Brown
One drop of blood that day was enough for humanity
On a hill the victory won the price was paid with just one drop
His blood still healing the hurt and diseased
His blood still flows as a cleansing stream
His blood a rushing river of grace
His blood
Thank You For the Blood
I started watching Joyce Meyer on TV back in 1998. By 2000, right after my mom died, I’d started going to an occasional Life In the Word conference when one would come somewhere near me. At that time, I had returned to live at my mother’s family home in the country, and I was going to the church of my childhood, the Joppa Community Church. We sang hymns that I remembered from my youth, and I was learning to sing harmony with the song leaders there.
So Joyce, at one of her conferences, was selling a CD with old time hymns of the faith. These hymns had a theme. Every song addressed the blood of Christ. It was called “Thank You for the Blood,” and on the cover there was a picture of the crown of thorns sitting on a piece of bright red fabric.
I listened to that CD every day for months. During my commute. On my walks. While I did housework. I had never pondered the importance of the Blood of Christ before, really. I’d been attending Riverbend for the last ten years or so, and the subject of the blood didn’t come up very often, except occasionally during bible study. My faith was so elementary at the time, it had not even occurred to me to meditate on the sacrifice of Christ. It was a finished work, a done deal, so I didn’t have to.
So, because I was a singer, I loved those songs, and I was becoming amazed that so many of them had been written about the blood of Christ. It seemed even the grace-filled, bible-believing protestants, especially the pentecostals like Joyce, wanted to remember and honor that blood-sacrifice of Christ.
The Passion of the Christ
In 2002, Mel Gipson offered a sacrifice to the Lord in the form of his movie The Passion of the Christ. I remember a couple of things. I remember the scene after the scourging when Mary tried to wipe up the blood. So much blood. The blood was precious. Mary wanted to preserve that precious blood. I’d never thought of how precious the blood was before.
When I drove away from the theatre, I felt a strong sense of my sin. Not in a pathological way. I was just so glad that Jesus had done what he did. Although I was horrified that he’d had to suffer so much. It seemed over the top. For the first time, I think, I felt contrite. I felt the need of my savior, a need I didn’t ordinarily feel. If I’d been Catholic, I’d have gone to confession straightaway. I think it was the first time I’d considered my need of a savior, to atone not only for original sin but also for my personal sins. That was surprising to me. I thought I’d already “accepted Christ as my personal Lord and Savior.” I wasn’t prepared for this new reality. It was powerful.
Then I remembered the Joyce Meyer CD I’d been listening to and made a connection from the Blood of Jesus to my own salvation. Here are the lyrics to one of the songs on the CD:
“The Blood Will Never Lose Its Power”
by Andre Crouch
The blood that Jesus shed for me way back on Calvary
The blood that gives me strength from day to day
It will never lose its power
It reaches to the highest mountain and it flows to the lowest valley
The blood that gives me strength from day to day
It will never lose its power
It soothes my doubts and calms my fears and it dries all my tears
The blood that gives me strength from day to day
It will never lose its power
How Does It Work?
But the question for me was, how do I appropriate that blood to my own personal sin? What is the mechanism through which that is supposed to happen? Does it just happen by faith? In my mind? Or could there be some way to enter that healing stream that was more reliable than my own transitory thoughts and feelings?
One day, probably in 2005, after I’d started singing with my trio, the Grace Notes, they asked me why I liked to pick songs about the blood. All I could say was, “It’s really all about the blood.”
And when I went to Mexico in 2005, I saw mannequins dressed as dead saints with fake blood all over them, on display down the side aisles of their churches. I was grossed out, and I rolled my eyes and thought, “Those weird Catholics!” Until I remembered the songs on my CD and the movie The Passion and I had to admit again, “It’s really all about the blood.”
