Christopher Idle on why Christians should become blood donors if they can
I cannot know for sure if I have ever made a single convert.
Perhaps that doesn’t matter; it would just be nice to know. My parents and my wife were committed; so now are our sons. But I am not (yet) talking about the new birth or confessing the name of Christ; just the simple matter of blood donation.
Giving blood
It’s many years since I signed on with the NHS Blood and Transplant service. They keep a record of donations, but you don’t need to know my score to date; just that I am never going to reach my dad’s total. Nor, come to that, get anywhere near the world record which is in the hundreds, currently held by an American or a South African depending on how you measure it. Yes, we oldies can keep on giving – in fact they don’t willingly let you stop – but you can’t start if you’re a pensioner already.
What I do know is that my blood is precious; they tell me that every time. So is yours; precious if it’s a rare group, because you may be the only donor available at someone’s crucial moment for life-saving surgery; precious if it’s a more common type, because there are so many potential recipients who might benefit from a transfusion from you.
Evidence on my side
But how come I seem to have failed (until you read this, that is) to persuade anyone else to join me, or even to think that this may be a good idea? The evidence, I think, is all on my side. There may be a problem if you have certain medical conditions, lifestyle choices or habits of tropical travel; if in doubt you can always check – free calls on 0300 123 23 23.
It has always seemed to me to be a fairly basic expression of the second of the two commandments reinforced by our Lord, or even the ‘Golden Rule’; that is, a matter of neighbourly obedience. There may come a time when I shall need someone else’s blood (maybe yours?); isn’t it fair that mine should be available too?
Unless you are a Jehovah’s Witness, which you are probably not, you won’t invent any permanent biblical prohibition. So why not sign on? They are always looking for new donors and sometimes, in the event of a disaster or major atrocity, very urgently. A few months ago my daughter-in-law needed a ready supply of the good red liquid.
Squeamish about needles?
Some believing Christians say that they can’t face the thought of a needle going in; too squeamish to face the pain. Really? I never cease to marvel that even some preachers who faithfully, zealously and vividly speak of the fires of everlasting punishment in hell, cannot even contemplate the virtually painless jab of a tiny needle in the arm! (You’re on safe ground so long as you’re not heavy lifting or running a marathon tomorrow; you might get cramp or worse.)
If they can’t get their heads round two seconds of mild discomfort, have they really grasped the awfulness of eternal agony? But perhaps you are not a preacher, or even have reservations about endless conscious suffering.
Gospel opportunity
Well then, how’s this for an evangelistic opening? Sometimes you get to chat with fellow-donors, either as you sit with your tumbler of water waiting to be called behind the curtain. Or, more likely, as you enjoy your cheese and onion crisps and cup of tea – which is my choice; bourbons, coffee or other options are available afterwards. Even more likely, three times a year you have a close encounter with a nurse. And here for a few minutes is a captive audience – except that you are the captive and she (probably she) is the audience.
True, some prefer to sit or work in silence; but others will ask: ‘How was your week? Any excitements coming up? Got anything lined up for the weekend? Are your holidays – Summer, Christmas, Easter, etc. – sorted out?’ Cue for embarrassed admission; or should it be bold initiative? ‘Well, tonight it’s Prayer Meeting; there’s church on Sunday’ (Guest Service coming up?) or: ‘Last night we had some friends round to read the Bible together…’. It’s OK, she’s not going to walk away. And neither are you.
I happened to have a dental appointment in November 1999; I remember the month because he said ‘Got anything planned for the Millennium?’ I said, quite honestly, ‘I’m not sure what our church has arranged yet; they are a bit last-minute-ish…’
The dentist was a bit taken aback (and it takes a lot for that to happen): ‘Oh, I suppose it has got a religious angle.’ Me, in wide-eyed innocence as well as open-mouthed helplessness: ‘Has it got any other angle, then?’
Preaching about the blood
But perhaps you are a preacher, or at least have occasional speaking opportunities? How about this, then: ‘My blood is very precious [see above]. So is yours [ditto]. Our blood can save a life. Perhaps for a few priceless weeks or months; or even for many years. [Cue for visual aid; but they don’t let you borrow bottles from the donor centre – I did ask!] Sooner or later, though, it all comes to an end. Even best-quality new blood won’t last for ever.’
‘But there is some blood far more powerful and precious than yours or mine. The Bible shows us that the blood of Jesus, poured out just once, is so precious that it saves lives for eternity. It works not by donation or transfusion, but by redemption; a horrific, violent bloodshed, but one which God planned long ago for our cleansing and forgiveness.’
‘But I can’t understand that!’ ‘Actually, nor can I. Come to that, I don’t understand blood transfusion either. But I know it works!’ I don’t need to give you the texts, do I? But perhaps I do need to give you this small reminder. Your neighbours need the gospel; they may also need your blood.
