You cry out with a loud voice that it is over and that the blood of Jesus has restored you, healed your normal, and made you no one’s business. Great indeed is the power of that blood! For without shedding of blood there is no remission, and this blood speaks better things than that of Abel. Abel’s blood cried out from the ground for vengeance, but the blood of Christ cries out for mercy, cleansing, and eternal life. It is not a temporary covering but a new covenant, the blood of the Testament that takes away the sins of the whole world. If you have tasted this, then truly you have tasted that the Lord is good.
Yet take heed how you proceed. The woman who was a sinner came to Him not in the public square but in a house, not for bodily healing but for the amendment of her soul, and she approached with trembling, knowing her impurity. She did not leap about shouting that she was no one’s business; she covered her feet with tears and wiped them with her hair. When the Lord lifts a burden, the soul is flooded with relief, but the flesh quickly turns relief into presumption. Do not let your joy become a spectacle like that of Herod’s feast, where a blood-thirsty woman danced and a prophet’s head was brought on a platter, yet no one shuddered. True healing produces stillness, awe, the silence of the heart before the majesty of God. If the very thought of blood from a severed head should make us shudder, how much more should we tremble at the blood that was poured out for our sins?
Remember that the mysteries we approach are not common. When the Spirit speaks, we need great stillness, not the clamor of self-congratulation. “Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, ye have no life in you.” This is a daily mystery, a continual receiving. The remission of sins once granted must not be gambled away by idleness. Some hear many times and seem insensible, yet later bring forth fruit; others receive the word with joy at once and wither in time of temptation. You have been given a great gift. Let it settle deep. Let it bring forth the fruit of a changed life, not only shouts of victory that fade.
The blood of Jesus is indeed the restoration of all basics. But the basics are not merely that you are hidden and no one’s business. The basics are that you now belong to Him who bought you. You are not your own. So walk in fear and trembling. Let your secret be kept before God, not paraded as a badge. The woman who found mercy went and loved much; she did not run through the streets proclaiming her privacy. Imitate her silence and her gratitude.
If you have passed through the Red Sea of affliction and seen your enemies dead on the shore, do not linger there gazing at the Egyptians. Press on toward the mountain of the covenant, where the blood speaks better things, a sprinkling that purifies the conscience from dead works to serve the living God. He who healed you said, “Go and sin no more, lest a worse thing come upon thee.” The healing is real, but the battle is not over; the serpent bruised your heel even as you crushed his head through Christ. Watch and pray.
May the blood of the covenant keep you in that normalcy of the new creation, where old things have passed away and all things are become new, not with carnal noise but with the groaning of the Spirit who intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. Only do not fall back. The tree that took many strokes to bring down fell at last; do not invite the axe again. Stand firm in the liberty wherewith Christ has made you free, and let your thanksgiving be offered not with clamor but with a broken and contrite heart, which He will never despise.