3 Then Judas, His betrayer, seeing that He had been condemned, was remorseful and brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and elders,
4 saying, “I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.” And they said, “What is that to us? You see to it!”
5 Then he threw down the pieces of silver in the temple and departed, and went and hanged himself.
6 But the chief priests took the silver pieces and said, “It is not lawful to put them into the treasury, because they are the price of blood.” 7 And they consulted together and bought with them the potter’s field, to bury strangers in. 8 Therefore that field has been called the Field of Blood to this day. Matt 27
The Field of Blood, bought with dirty money—money that was used to betray and kill a man. Blood money. But isn’t it interesting whose field they bought? The potter’s.
But now, O Lord,
You are our Father;
We are the clay,
and You our potter;
And all we are
the work of Your hand.
They bought the Potter’s field. And for what purpose? To bury strangers in. These men, the elite of Israel, had just chosen to reject the Son of God. After God’s Chosen People rejected Him, the gospel went out to Gentiles. Strangers. Me. They bought a field where I could be buried, where the old me could be put away and the new me could rise in newness of life, shaped to the will of the Potter. The price of His blood bought a place for me, the stranger.
25 And all the people answered and said, “His blood be on us and on our children.”
I am bloodthirsty, too.
For His blood. I long for the blood that saves me from desolation, from emptiness and hopelessness. The blood that makes life worth the living, that makes each day meaningful. Without His blood, there is no purpose, no joy, no color. With His blood covering me, there is everything!
His blood be on me—Yes, Lord!—and on my children—Amen!