What Would You Do For Love?

John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central Station. He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn’t: the girl with the rose.

            His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida Library. Taking a book off the shelf, he found himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin. The handwriting revealed a thoughtful soul and an insightful mind. In the front of the book, he discovered the previous owner’s name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort he located her address. She now lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to respond. The next day he was shipped overseas for service in World War II. During the next year and one month the two grew to know each other through the mail. A romance was budding. Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn’t matter what she looked like.

            When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled their first meeting—7:00 at grand Central Station. “You’ll recognize me,” she wrote, “by the red rose I’ll be wearing on my lapel.” So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face he had never seen. I’ll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened next.

            “A young woman was coming towards me, her figure long and slim. Her blond hair lay in delicate curls, her eyes were as blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suit she was like springtime come alive. I started towards her, entirely forgetting that she was not wearing a rose. As I approached, a small smile curved her lips. “Goin’ my way?” she said. I took one step closer to her, and then I saw Miss Hollis Maynell.”

            “She was standing almost directly behind the amazing lady in the pale green suit. Standing there with graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump, with thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes. That lovely girl was walking quickly away. I felt as though I would split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned me and held me up during the war. And there she stood. Her face was gentle and sensible, her grey eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle. I did not hesitate. My finger gripped the small leather copy of the book that was to identify me to her. This would be something precious, a friendship for which I had been and must be ever grateful. I squared my shoulders, saluted, and held out the book to the woman, even though while I spoke I felt choked by my disappointment. “I’m Lt. John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell. I am so glad you could meet me; May I take you to dinner?”

            The woman’s face broadened into a tolerant smile. “II don’t know what this is about, son,” she answered, “but the young lady in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I should tell you that she is waiting for you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test!”

            One of the biggest tests a Christian has to face is loving a God whose letters we’ve read, whose heart we’ve come to know through those words, but whose face we’ve never seen. The apostle John says it in very plain language today: “This is God’s command: to believe in the name of his Son Jesus Christ, and to love one another as he has commanded us.” It really does come down to this: Love God; love other people, and just like our opening story about John Blanchard and Hollis Maynell, God is going to test our love for him. How’s He going to do that? It’s simple. He’s going to observe how we love other people. He’s going to watch how we treat people. He’s going to see how we forgive people…or not. So be honest: Is love for God and love for the people in your life your number one priority? Or, if the evidence were examined, would it be clear that you really love yourself most of all, and are ultimately concerned with your success, your pleasure, your happiness?

            If I’m stepping on your toes with these questions, you should know I’m stepping on my own as I ask them. If the command to love God first and foremost bothers your conscience; if loving the people in your life with a godly love is a struggle for you, then I invite you to join me in asking God to change our hearts right now. Let’s answer the call of the Holy Spirit to turn our backs on old ways of thinking and behaving. Let’s take the gifts Jesus paid for with His blood. Again John writes that if we confess our sins, God, who is faithful and just, will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. Why? Jesus, the Son of God, agreed to take the sentence we deserved. Remember, He is faithful and just. Just in the sense that with God, justice will be served. Sin had to be punished; dealt with. And it was, because God is faithful. He had always promised to love and forgive those who return to Him. To pave the way for that return, he justly punished His Son on the cross. That means your sins and mine no longer condemn us. They are gone. They died when Jesus died.

            This is what the Christian Church calls the gospel. Jesus exchanged his life for ours. That’s what he was getting at when He called himself “the Good Shepherd” who lays down his life for the sheep. In contrast to some wimpy hired hand with no stake in the sheep, who runs at the first sign of a predator, Jesus’ idea of shepherding includes this on the job description: he will fight to the death, if necessary, to protect his flock. He’ll go out there with rod and staff if he has to. He’ll go out there and get beaten and whipped and nailed to a cross if he has to. You want to talk about a test of love? Here it is. Jesus, the Good Shepherd, freely lays himself down on the altar of sacrifice, so you can be free. Jesus doesn’t just talk about love, or teach it as a concept; he demonstrates what it is. True love, Jesus reveals, is a decision to sacrifice and give yourself to another. True love is a decision to sacrifice and give yourself to another. The cross is the ultimate expression of sacrificial, self-giving love. Through Jesus’ suffering and death on the cross, our accounts with God are settled. When I trust that God had declared me “not guilty” because of Jesus sacrifice, then I know the true meaning of forgiveness, and my soul can finally rest.

            And something else happens too. When that forgiveness settles into your heart and soul, you will become very conscious of the fact that every day brings new opportunities to sacrifice and give yourself to another. And not always in some big, dramatic way. You’ll be sacrificing something, your comfort, your time, your schedule, maybe even your hard-earned cash. You’ll be presented with chances to give up something so that you can build into someone else’s life. The example of Jesus and the presence of Jesus tells you, “Take the risk! Make the sacrifice! Give of yourself!” This is what it means to “love one another” in a way that matters.

            Have you ever stopped to consider what this world would be like without sacrificial love? Listen:

            Six humans trapped by happenstance in bleak and bitter cold/Each one possessed a stick of wood, or so the story goes. Their dying fire in need of logs, the first man held his back/For on the faces round the fire he noticed one was black. The next man looking cross the way saw one not of his church/and couldn’t bring himself to give the fire his stick of birch. The third one sat in tattered clothes—he gave his coat a hitch/Why should his log be put to use to warm the idle rich? The rich man sat and thought about the wealth he had to store/and how to keep what he had earned from the lazy, shiftless poor. The black man’s face bespoke revenge as the fire passed from his sight/for all he saw in the stick of wood was a chance to spite the white. The last man of this forlorn group did nothing except for gain/Giving only to those who gave was how he played the game. Their logs held tight in death’s still hand was proof of human sin/They didn’t die from the cold without—they died from the cold within.

            One of the many things we have been saved from is the “cold within.” We were saved from the “cold within” by the sacrificial, self-giving actions of Jesus. When you sacrifice and give of yourself to build into the lives of others, you are releasing the power of God into the world. The sacrificial, self-giving love of Jesus Christ is the only hope this world has. Tap into it. Be a part of it. Be a conduit of that love and let it flow through you. Passing the test really isn’t the point. Being like Jesus is. Go do it in His Name.

Blessed Easter!

The King is Risen Indeed

Some of the most famous and impressive structures on earth are tombs, or contain tombs: The Taj Mahal; the pyramids of Egypt; Westminster Abbey—it’s a long list. But there is one tomb that overshadows any of these in importance—a tomb that ironically can no longer be located with absolute certainty—a tomb just outside of Jerusalem, owned by a wealthy man named Joseph of Arimathea. This tomb contained the body of Jesus of Nazareth on Friday, but it was empty on Sunday—for the reason we celebrate today.

            The other tombs, for all their tons of limestone, marble or granite, are silent testimonies to death and its power over people. When archeologists or grave robbers first opened the pyramids, they found the bodies of dead Pharoahs, but when the women came to anoint the body of Jesus, they found the stone rolled away and the tomb empty—because Jesus had triumphed over death—the greatest of victories!

            “Empty” is usually a negative word. An optimist may view a cup as “half full” while a pessimist sees it as “half empty,” but when something is totally empty, like an old pop can, what else is there to do but toss it? Your gas tank is on empty—not good. If someone calls you “empty-headed,” that’s not meant as a compliment. But on this Sunday, “Empty” is gloriously positive. Empty is everything! “He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay.” That “place” is empty now, because Jesus lives!

            Listen again to the words of the angel: “He is not here; he has risen, just as he said.” Indeed, before the fact, Jesus had said that he would be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and on the third day rise. It had happened just as He said.  Jesus had called his shot. The resurrection became God the Father’s seal of approval on Jesus’ great mission of rescuing us—the price Jesus paid to cancel our debt was accepted—and now even our most extreme enemy—death itself—is defeated! The apostle Paul expressed it like this: “We believe that Jesus died and came back to life. We also believe that, through Jesus, God will bring back those who have died. They will come back with Jesus.” (1 Thess. 4: 14)

            Everyone—in their heart of hearts—wants to believe that. No one can think about their own death without some fear or anxiety—if the grave is, in fact, the end of everything. If it is simply the end, humanity is no better than the leaf of a tree that grows for a time and then shrivels, drops to the ground and dies.

            The Gospel—the Good News—or maybe we really ought to call it the Great News—is that Jesus died and came back to life! The resurrection is genuine! History and archeology both support the emptiness of Jesus’ tomb that Sunday morning. The Jerusalem authorities had a missing body problem on their hands. There is no record of anyone, anywhere, in any source—friendly or hostile—reporting that the tomb owned by Joseph of Arimathea was still occupied on the morning of the first Easter. What all the sources report is that it was empty.

            And yet…the empty tomb alone is not enough for faith. The empty tomb is like the shell without the kernel; the envelope without the letter. The empty tomb by itself could never have sparked the birth of the Church. It was Jesus Christ Himself who filled that void with reappearances on numerous occasions. About twenty years after the first Easter, the apostle Paul told the church in Corinth: “Christ died to take away our sins as the Scriptures predicted. He was placed in a tomb. He was brought back to life on the third day as the Scriptures predicted. He appeared to Cephas (the Aramaic name for Peter). Next he appeared to the twelve apostles. Then he appeared to more than 500 believers at one time. (Most of these people are still living, but some have died.) Next he appeared to James. Then he appeared to all the apostles; last of all, he also appeared to me.”

            Apart from all the eyewitnesses just named, there are so many proofs. What changed these poor, doubting disciples into believers? And not just believers, but people so transformed that they would willingly risk death for their convictions? What changed the day of worship from Sabbath to Sunday? What fueled the growth of the Christian Church itself? It was nothing other than the truth that Jesus is risen indeed. The evidence overwhelmed even some of Jesus’ former enemies, as recorded in Acts 6: “The word of God continued to spread, and the number of disciples in Jerusalem grew very large, and a large number of priests became obedient to the faith.”(7)

            For thousands of years now, Christians have understood that Jesus’ resurrection is the very heart of his Great News. Martin Luther once wrote: “He who would preach the Gospel must go directly to the resurrection of Christ. He who does not preach the resurrection is no apostle, for this is the chief part of our faith.”

            The women of that first Easter morning saw them first—the empty tomb and the risen Lord—and not only were their lives changed, but history was changed. Your life can be changed, too, because once faith tells you that “Jesus Is Risen Indeed,” your life can never be the same! You are the reason he died on Friday and came back on Sunday! If faith is telling you that “Jesus Is Risen Indeed,” you are sharing in his risen life right now. That means the grave is not the end of everything after all. Jesus’ resurrection changes the grave from a dead end into a doorway; a doorway through which we pass on our way to an audience with the King of Kings. Not only does Jesus’ resurrection remodel the grave, but it also means that our own bodies will be remodeled. We confess this in our creeds: I believe in the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting. Just as Christ was raised physically from the dead, our bodies will be raised physically; our souls will be rejoined to perfected, resurrected bodies that will live on forever in the life of the world to come. Completely whole. Totally restored. A perfectly tuned physical body is also one of the promises of Easter.

And that’s not all.  Because Jesus lives, he can come to us. He comes to us here, in words that raise believers to new life; He comes to us here in the washing of baptismal water; He comes to us here, hidden in bread and wine. He comes to us here in the caring words and actions of fellow Christians. Jesus lives in his Church to feed and nurture and serve us! We connect with a living God here! He comes right down to our level to forgive and strengthen and teach us, and in return we praise Him, we pray to Him, we give back to Him, we serve Him. This only makes sense if Jesus really is alive! And He is. That’s why we are here. That’s why we are…because Jesus is Risen Indeed.

Good Friday: Life through the King's Death

It’s an astounding conversation, the one between Pontius Pilate and Jesus of Nazareth. “Are you or are you not a King?” “My kingdom is not of this world.” “What’s that? You are a king, then!” Jesus responds, “You say that I am a king. For this purpose I was born and for this purpose I have come into the world—to bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth listens to my voice.” Pilate, so modern in his thought process, asks “What is truth?” You can almost see Pilate sizing up the rabbi from Galilee, trying to get a read on why this wandering teacher is in so much trouble. The governor takes his decision to the people: “I find no guilt in him.”

            Those who had gathered were not having any of his Roman objectivity. “Crucify Him” was their consistent cry. And when they dared to bring Caesar into the conversation, Pilate knew he had played his last card. It was Caesar who appointed kings, and for Pilate to leave the door open for Jesus to emerge as some self-appointed King of the Jews would never do. Caesar held the keys to Pilate’s own little slice of authority. Pontius Pilate wasn’t about to risk what little security he had for the sake of sticking up for some itinerant preacher.

            Exasperated, he brought Jesus before them and said, “Shall I crucify your King?” Did he really think their hearts would soften?

            “We have no King but Caesar,” the chief priests answered. It was a lie, and everyone standing there knew it. A lie for the sake of expedience; a lie for the sake of getting your way. Yet another lie that sent Jesus to the cross.

            What is like, knowing that you’re sentencing an innocent man to death? Even though he did just that, Pilate signaled something when he ordered the inscription placed over our Lord’s head: “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.” When the chief priests objected, Pilate refused to change the wording. What he meant by the inscription is hard to say—but one thing is sure: what it said was factual. What was written was true. Jesus was and is the King of the Jews and King of all creation. And a mid-ranking Roman official had signed off on his death. All Jesus would have had to do to stop these proceedings is say the word, you realize that, don’t you? But he submits himself to this. He lowers himself to this. What does He do it for?

            Not too long ago a parent asked me how to prepare their sensitive five-year-old child to understand the mood of the Good Friday Tenebrae service: with the darkness, the people walking out in silence; it all seems so gloomy, so deathlike. The more I thought about that, the more significant it became. How do you tell a child that Jesus, your best friend, died for you and because of you? Do you spare that child from the pain and suffering that Jesus went through? Well, maybe a few of the gorier details, but only for a time. Because no matter how old or young you are, you’ll never really understand how much Jesus loves you and the world he made until you see him dying on the cross. You need to take to heart the supreme sacrifice that Jesus made so that you can belong to him. You need to hear his words spoken from the cross; words of forgiveness, of heaven, of love, of forsakenness, of thirst, of fulfillment, of commitment to the Father. You need to hear it, know it, and believe it, from early age to the day you die.

            Why do you need this? Because this is where you need to go whenever you wonder if God really loves you. This is where you need to go whenever you wonder if God really cares. This is where you need to go when your guilt is just too much carry anymore. This is where you need to go whenever you think maybe God is punishing me for something I did.

            Go to the cross. See the innocent Son of God dying there. This is the length to which God goes to make you and keep you his own. This is where all sin, all of it, all of yours, is paid for in full. Jesus didn’t owe us anything, and still he suffered and died to pay off what we owed God. What do you do with a sacrifice like that—with a love like that? How can things ever be same, knowing this was the price that bought your forgiveness?

Maundy Thursday: The King Condemned to Die

Usually, blood is not a good sign. We learn that from a very early age. From the first time you skinned your knee on the playground, you learned that seeing blood—particularly your own—is bad. As you grow older you’re reminded that if you’re looking at blood, then something unpleasant has probably happened. Now imagine seeing the blood of your leader. Many people here today don’t have to imagine. You’ve seen a president assassinated on television. There are some who point to the assassination of John F. Kennedy and say that America has never been the same since, and maybe they’re right. Under normal circumstances, seeing the blood of your President, or the blood of your King, does not mean good things.

            There are exceptions, however. Here are a couple fictional examples. In J.R.R. Tolkien’s epic “The Lord of the Rings,” there is a scene where a King named Theoden lies dying on the field of battle. The blood of the King is visible, but that blood was shed in a noble cause. King Theoden had led his nation in a direct confrontation with evil, and the forces of good prevail. Another fictional example is found in C.S. Lewis’ “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe,” where the Lion of the title, Aslan, goes to the Stone Table in order to purchase the redemption of the boy Edmund. The powerful animal allows himself to be bound and shorn and relentlessly mocked, until finally his blood is shed at the hands of the White Witch. The two human girls who watch this all happen are at first horrified, but later, when Aslan returns to life, they realize that the blood he shed purchased their brother’s forgiveness. In these works of literature is a clear echo of a person who changed the world; the echo of a King whose shed blood did not mean defeat but victory.

            When Jesus and his disciples gathered around a table on the night when he was betrayed, they gathered to remember an event in which blood was not a bad sign, but a good one. They were about to eat the Passover meal. Passover was the day when God’s people re-lived what He did for them in Egypt. For four hundred years they had toiled as slaves to the Egyptians. Finally, when God was ready to move, he told them to eat a special meal to prepare for what He would do. He told them to eat bread without yeast, because He was going to act quickly. There would be no “rise time” for their dough. He also told them to select a perfect lamb to eat—and most importantly, they were to take the blood of the lamb and paint it on the doorframes of their homes. The angel of death would be sent through the land of Egypt, killing the firstborn of every household, but when the angel saw the blood of the lamb, he would pass over, sparing those who had obeyed the Lord.

            For more than a thousand years, God’s people celebrated this holy day every year by eating the Passover meal. In many ways, the meal that Jesus ate with His disciples was the same as always. But at the same time, this meal is different. At this particular Passover, Jesus says something no one had ever said before…from Mark 14:

            And as they were eating, he took bread, and after blessing it broke it and gave it to them, and said, “Take, this is my body.” And he took a cup, and when he had given thanks he gave it to them, and they all drank of it. And he said to them, “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many.

            The disciples would be seeing a lot of Jesus’ blood in the next few hours. Just after eating this Passover, they went with Jesus to the garden of Gethsemane. There, Jesus prayed to His Father with such intensity that he was sweating “great drops of blood” (Luke 22: 44). After Jesus was arrested, a crown of thorns was pushed down onto his brow. The Roman whip tore Jesus’ back to shreds. The rough crossbeam ground into his shoulders. And then they witnessed Jesus’ body pierced with nails and a spear. The disciples saw a lot of their King’s blood in those few hours—blood they had betrayed; blood they had denied; blood they had sinned against.

            Blood is not usually a good sign. When the disciples saw the blood of Jesus, they could only see it as something terrible. At the time, they could not grasp the sign of the Passover. They could not grasp the sign of the blood that saved God’s people from death. They could not recall the words Jesus had spoken to them at the table—“This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many.” But in time, after the resurrection, they would understand. They would come to see how the pieces fit together. Jesus’ followers would not only come to believe it, but they would proclaim that they had seen the new covenant poured out before them; they would preach and teach God’s exceedingly generous and gracious love poured out in the blood of Jesus. They had been there to see Jesus’ blood as it was spilled, and they would stake their lives on this; that it was not a bad sign; on the contrary: Jesus’ blood was forgiveness. In Jesus’ blood there is life.

            In that Upper Room, the King, condemned to die, hosted a meal. An odd thing for a King to do, perhaps, but that meal is a clear echo of a person who changed the world; the echo of a King whose shed blood does not mean defeat but victory, and that echo has reached your ears. Because today/tonight that same King, your Lord Jesus, invites you to be at the table with him. The new meal he gave to his disciples that fateful night is the same meal he offers to you. At this altar table, in this church, Jesus says, “Take, this is my body…This is my blood of the covenant.” The King who speaks these words is the One whose Word caused all things to be made at the beginning of time. With this bread and wine, you have the body and blood of Jesus. He has spoken this into reality for you.

            Come to the King’s Table. Believe that His blood is life for you. The blood of Jesus is the forgiveness we need, and the need is desperate. Why desperate? Because we neglect God, even though we know he should be our top priority. We fail to love the people in our lives, though we know we ought to. We hold grudges, we gossip, we live selfishly, and then have the nerve to complain against God when things don’t go the way we want them to. We desperately need forgiveness. We need the complete forgiveness that is given in no other way than in Jesus’ blood.

            Here, at the King’s Table, you can start all over again. Here, at the King’s Table, receive a life-giving transfusion of His blood. Leave the King’s Table today/tonight refreshed and re-made. God holds no sin against you, because Jesus’ blood has been shed. This King’s blood is not a bad sign. It is beautiful, for those who believe; in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

The King's Coronation

If you were to somehow be transported and dropped into the crowd on that Palm Sunday, where would you fit in? There were many sub-groups within the crowd that day. There were Pharisees along the parade route. Would you find company among Jesus’ enemies? Are you skeptical of the claims that Jesus makes? Would you prefer not to have to listen to or deal with this Jesus at all?

Would you find kindred spirits among those who hoped that Jesus would guarantee worldly prosperity? Are you looking for Jesus to come through with a miracle that’s going to improve your circumstances? If he doesn’t do what you ask, are you going to walk away? Jesus did not come into the world to give us whatever we want—yet many hold Him to this standard, and reject him when he doesn’t deliver.

Or would you find a place among the true believers—ready and willing to follow Jesus wherever he might lead? Are you sure about that? Even if that means following Jesus into a suffering like His? Even if it meant that your life was on the line? Many people want the benefits of being a “true believer,” but are you willing to pay the personal and social cost for being a follower of Jesus?

No matter who you identify with in the Palm Sunday crowd, this strange parade gives you reason to re-evaluate the expectations you have of Jesus. Here’s what I mean:

Jesus did not ride that donkey into Jerusalem just to improve our lives but to save them. The King of Kings did not ride into Jerusalem to replace Roman rulers but to rescue the human race. Jesus did not endure the agony of the cross to change the political landscape, but to fundamentally change you. Instead of marching immediately to a throne, Jesus stumbled up the Hill of the Skull and was executed. This was not some accident—it was the plan. It had been all along. When that circle of thorns was pressed into Jesus’ head, the true King was crowned. It was the most humble and terrible coronation ever seen. God punished His Son, the Messiah, the Holy One of God, instead of punishing human beings for their sins—instead of punishing you for your sins, instead of punishing me for mine. By going to the cross, Jesus answered the request that was in the word Hosanna. Hosanna means save us now, and we are saved now—saved from torment; saved from separation from everything good; saved, in other words, from hell--because Jesus took our death sentence. The King took the punishment His people deserved. This was not the salvation that anyone was expecting. It’s not always what we are expecting or looking for from God. But what Jesus has done meets your deepest need. Whatever your expectations of Jesus were when you entered this building today—please hear me on this: Jesus has died your death and offers you a brand new life. You are forgiven of all your sin. You have his life in you starting this moment. The living King is with you in your pain, as well as your joy.

Think back for a minute, and see in your mind’s eye Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a borrowed donkey. Can you see him? Can you see that he’s been crying? He has. He’s been crying, but not for himself. He’s been crying over Jerusalem’s spiritual decay; crying over the children who would experience Jerusalem’s destruction forty years later. And still He comes, the crying King, to usher in a kingdom without borders, a kingdom built on mercy, a kingdom for which he will pay an unimaginable price. Can you see Him riding through the city gates? Are you waving your own palm branch of praise?

Jesus knew the misunderstandings and the false expectations about Him. He knew all about it, and he came riding into Jerusalem anyway. He knows our hearts and our minds; he knows that our worship is not always pure; he knows there are times when we want a god who acts like a divine vending machine. Jesus knew that the church that would bear his name would have pockets of misguided loyalties and wrong priorities. But Palm Sunday tells us he came anyway. He came anyway to make the sacrifice that would open heaven to misguided people. He came to rescue those whose expectations were off. He came to forgive those with misplaced priorities. And he came to receive worship. He came to receive worship, not so much because He needs it, but we need it. But what does that really mean, to worship Jesus? It means to see who He really is; to know why He really came; to truly enthrone Him as your King. It means to throw the cloak of your life down before Him; to open the gate of your heart to Him; and to welcome Him in, not as an accomplice; not as an advisor, but as King, as the Ruler who bought the rights to your life with His blood. Bless Him who comes in the name of the Lord; who is the Lord, now and forever.