I was just thinking about freedom, and that it always comes at a cost.
That cost is blood.
Just think of it. Our fledgling country was oppressed by the English crown. We were taxed without representation. We fought for our freedom. Many, many, were killed.
Blood bought our freedom.
The Civil war. All killed were Americans. But the war was not fought for land, or money, but to make men free.
Freedom attained through shed blood.
Or think of the trench warfare fought during the WWI. Miles of trenches. Machine guns, barbed wire, mustard gas. Men fighting savage hand-to-hand battles to free Europe.
Many thousands were killed to attain that freedom.
Which was purchased with blood.
WWII. The Emperor of Japan and Hitler’s failed attempt at world domination. Millions killed in death camps. A war fought across Europe and the Pacific. Many, many, many Allied soldiers killed.
Freedom bought with blood.
Wars upon wars. Korea, Viet Nam. Iraq. Afghanistan. Perhaps not all thought of as “noble” conflicts, such as the first world wars. But none fought for gain, or territory.
Blood is always the cost.
And then I think about Jesus. I think about blood shed for freedom. I think of a man laying on his face in Gethsemane, sweating blood on my behalf. I think of a man
son of man
having his back, arms, legs shredded by whips on my behalf, to attain my freedom. I think of steel spikes being driven at an angle through bundles of wrist nerves, to maximize the pain. Of those same nails being driven through feet positioned on a wooden block. I think of blood running to the ground.
For my freedom.
The freedom of many.
The freedom of all, should they desire.
Purchased through blood.