The children sleep and in a still house I pour blood down the drain. Scarlet drips from bowl’s edge and I’m struck with images of the cutting of a throat, pools and reek of of plasma, cells, platelets, the appeal of peaceable vegetarianism.
And when I rub the marinate into the lamb, blood ponding on plate, I think of socially acceptable religion, inoffensive theology and my nostrils fill with the stench of my sin, and my beating heart hurts for the only God whose wild love had him tear open a vein and do the repulsive, become a lamb dragged to the slaughter for without theoutrageous shedding of blood there is no cleansing of my gory mess.
Photos: preparing the lamb, spikes as our centerpiece
{New York Times Bestseller Christianity Today Books of the Year Award of Merit Recipient}
"[from] one of the most gifted writers I've ever read a book that'll challenge you & mess with you
in the most beautiful of ways..." Lysa Terkeurst, Proverbs 31 Ministries
