Three years ago this March 30th, I had surgery to remove a cancerous prostate. My surgeon pointed out later I would have been dead within two years without the surgery. But he also told me that I needed two blood transfusions during surgery, without which I would not have survived the operation.
In my upcoming book, Prostate Surgery: My Story of Survival, due out early summer, I describe my feelings that first Easter shortly after surgery. They were a sharp reminder my cancer of sin could not be removed without the divine blood that flowed at Calvary. Here is an excerpt from that book.
But Easter, traditionally the period remembering Christ’s death and resurrection, had particular meaning for me following surgery. It feels a little peculiar to think that I had someone else’s blood flowing through my arteries and veins during surgery. Although I had been a blood donor most of my life, I was particularly grateful for the one who donated blood for me. The parallel is all too clear: I am eternally grateful for the blood that was given for me at the cross. Human blood gives me existence, but the life that has ultimate meaning for me is the transcendent life gained through the blood of Jesus Christ shed for me.
As Ann and I attend good Friday service this morning, our gratitude to God for His sacrifice on our behalf, will be heightened by recalling this experience again.