I have a blood brother.
A ketchup blood brother. When I was five years old, my family hosted an exchange student for a year. He was a seventeen year old from The Netherlands. His name was Jan. He loved Larry King Live, Pop Tarts, and WWF.
Sitting at dinner one night, towards the end of his stay with us, Jan opened up a ketchup bottle. He poured a tad on his wrist, and poured a tad on mine. We clasped hands and rubbed our wrists together. “Now,” he said in his Dutch accent, “we will always be blood brothers.” That tiny condiment made a mark on my five-year-old psyche. A symbol of sworn loyalty.
Something about shared blood binds people together. A mystical bond that runs deeper than water. One of the undervalued benefits of redemption, is the beauty that we’re adopted into a family. We’re taken off the dark road to wrath and put into a home as sons and daughters in a divine family. We have a blood brother in Christ (Hebrews 2:11). Deeper than a red life source or shared genetic code.
We were bought out of our self-imposed slavery with the “precious blood of Christ” (1 Peter 1:18-19). This blood is not just smeared on our wrist in a ritualistic display, it covers and cleanses us completely for all eternity (1 John 1:7).
We have a blood brother. We have one who sticks closer than a blood brother (Proverbs 18:24). Ketchup or otherwise.
Jesus. Our elder brother/friend/Bridegroom/King/Savior.
He has sworn His loyalty to us forevermore, and signed that covenant with His blood.
May His mark be on us.