On the Blood of Christ—Reflections on the Writing of Carlo Carretto

Today I reflect on how my views about the Blood of Christ have changed and start with a piece from Carlo Carretto I read years ago.

When, through my tears, I began to tell him something of the years during which I betrayed him, he lovingly placed his hand over my mouth in order to silence me. His one concern was that I should muster courage enough to pick myself up again, to try and carry on walking in spite of my weakness, and to believe in his love in spite of my fears. But there was one thing he did, the value of which cannot be measured, something truly unbelievable, something only God could do.

While I continued to have doubts about my own salvation, to tell him that my sins could not be forgiven, and that justice, too, had its rights, he appeared on the Cross before me one Friday towards midday.

I was at its foot, and found myself bathed with the blood which flowed from the gaping holes made in his flesh by the nails. He remained there for three hours until he expired.

I realized that he had died in order that I might stop turning to him with questions about justice, and believe instead, deep within myself, that the scales had come down overflowing on the side of love, and that even though all…through unbelief and madness, had offended him, he had conquered for ever, and drawn all things everlastingly to himself.

—From In Search of the Beyond by Carlo Carretto

I have a picture of what I believe to be the crucified face of Jesus taken from the Shroud of Turin. It hangs on a wall overlooking my desk where I hold devotions and I gaze at it frequently during prayer. Of course, I cannot prove it to be THE face of Christ but it wouldn’t surprise me if someone could prove its authenticity. After all, I suspect God understands we humans would be naturally curious about what our Lord looked like and so he left us this picture of himself as a gift even before the technology existed. I can really appreciate a God like that.

Regardless, I mention this picture because it provided me with a visual stimulus the other day and evoked a memory about Carretto’s writing above. Years ago when I first read this piece, I was frankly repulsed by this image of Christ’s blood bathing him at the foot of the Cross. I tried to envision myself in Carretto’s place but really couldn’t because the thought of being bathed in blood was repugnant to me, even though at the time I could definitely empathize with Carretto’s agony about being an unforgiven sinner worthy of punishment. Quite simply that could have been me writing about my sins and yet I was repulsed by Carretto’s vivid imagery.

Then it happened. As I asked forgiveness for my sins in prayer the other day, I gazed on the bloody face of my Lord. I thought about his agony on the cross, how he gave himself for me and bore my punishment because he loves me. I marveled that God loves me so much that he took my just punishment on himself. At the same time I confessed my inability to fully understand or appreciate such a love offered. All of a sudden I wanted nothing more than to be bathed in Christ’s blood because I knew there is forgiveness in it; I knew that Christ’s blood shed for me is my only hope for salvation. In other words, God blessed me with a deeper insight about and greater appreciation for the source of my salvation represented in Christ’s blood. My desire to be bathed in it was not some new-found desire to become a cannibal nor does it represent a morbid fascination with blood; rather, it manifested a clearer understanding of my desperate state of being without Christ and my need for his love, forgiveness, and salvation. Put another way, as the old hymn goes this desire manifested my profound need to “cling to the old rugged cross.”

It was then I understood why I was originally repulsed by Carretto’s image—I was looking at it as an outsider looking in! In other words, I was still trying to earn my salvation through my own merit; I was still engaging in works-righeousness. Of course that is a delusional notion but I clung to it for many years until by God’s grace I realized that I am saved only by his grace, not my works. In Christ’s blood I have my only hope; who wouldn‘t crave the source of one’s hope? That would REALLY be delusional!

Of course this notion of Christ’s atoning work on the cross is consistent with the biblical witness and the teaching of the church, and so I trust this insight to be an authentic sign of grace; it indicates that I am moving from grace to grace and for that I am profoundly thankful. It certainly doesn’t mean I got smarter all of a sudden or anything like that! Just ask anyone who knows me!

Upon further reflection, it seems to me that those who cling to the delusion of self-righteousness or self-reliance as the way to salvation would be naturally repulsed by this image of Christ’s blood on the cross because we instinctively understand that there is something greater here than us, that we really aren’t the final arbiters of our lives, and that offends us. That was exactly where I was. Yet thanks be to God that he was gracious enough to offer a very tangible sign of his great love for me and move me past this particular delusion. Indeed, the Good News is that this grace is available not just to me but to anyone who accepts and believes.

And so I no longer have fears of being cast into hell because I know the source of my hope—Jesus Christ and him crucified. What about you? How do you react when you hear or read about the Blood of the Lamb? Are you offended or is it something that makes you profoundly thankful? Perhaps you are somehere in between. What might that tell you about where you are in your journey and/or where you need to go? Have you had any experiences like mine, either positive or negative? If so, tell us about them and what that has meant for your discipleship.

In the interim, my prayer for you is that you too may crave Christ’s blood because in it is your hope and salvation. Jesus was right. It really is about losing your life in order to save it.