THE CRIMSON TIDE THROUGH THE BIBLE
There is a crimson tide that runs from Genesis to Revelation — not the tide of a football field, but the tide of redemption. It begins as a quiet stream in a garden and becomes a river that no man can number. It is the scarlet thread of atonement, the blood that speaks, the mercy that covers, the life poured out so that death does not have the final word.
In Genesis 3:21, after Adam and Eve sinned, the Lord made garments of skin and clothed them. An innocent life was taken so the guilty could be covered. That was the first ripple of the crimson tide — substitution, sacrifice, covering. The wages of sin had entered the world, and already God was showing that redemption would come through blood.
In Genesis 4, Abel’s offering was accepted because it was from the firstborn of his flock. Hebrews 11:4 tells us he offered by faith. The tide was rising. In Genesis 22, Abraham lifts the knife over Isaac, and God provides a ram caught in the thicket. “The Lord will provide” becomes more than a phrase — it becomes prophecy. A substitute in the place of the son. The crimson tide moves forward.
Then comes the Passover in Exodus 12. The lamb is slain. The blood is placed on the doorposts. Judgment passes over not because Israel was better, but because blood marked the house. That night in Egypt was not just deliverance from Pharaoh — it was a picture of a greater exodus to come. A people saved under blood.
Leviticus formalizes what Genesis and Exodus foreshadowed. “For the life of the flesh is in the blood,” the Lord declares in Leviticus 17:11, “and I have given it to you upon the altar to make atonement for your souls.” The crimson tide becomes a system — daily sacrifices, yearly atonement, priests standing between God and man. Yet Hebrews later tells us those sacrifices could never fully take away sin. They were shadows, pointing forward.
The prophets saw the tide rising higher. Isaiah 53 speaks of the Servant wounded for our transgressions, bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement for our peace upon Him, and by His stripes we are healed. Zechariah 13:1 promises a fountain opened for sin and uncleanness. The river is forming.
And then, in the fullness of time, John the Baptist points and says in John 1:29, “Behold! The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” The Lamb walks among us. The blood that all other blood anticipated now flows in a body without sin.
At the cross, the crimson tide reaches its deepest point. Nails pierce. A spear opens His side. Blood and water flow. Matthew 26:28 records Jesus saying, “This is My blood of the new covenant, which is shed for many for the remission of sins.” What Genesis promised, what Exodus pictured, what Leviticus rehearsed, what Isaiah foresaw — Calvary fulfills.
But the tide does not end at the cross. In Hebrews 9, we are told that Christ entered once for all into the Holy Place, not with the blood of goats and calves, but with His own blood, obtaining eternal redemption. In 1 John 1:7, we are reminded that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanses us from all sin. The crimson tide is not stagnant — it cleanses, it flows, it transforms.
And in Revelation 7:14, we see the final vision: a multitude clothed in white robes, who have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. White made white by red. Cleansed by what would seem to stain. That is the paradox of grace.
From Eden’s covering to Calvary’s cross to the throne room of heaven, the crimson tide runs strong. It tells us sin is serious. It tells us mercy is costly. It tells us love bleeds.
And it tells us this: we are not saved by our effort, our heritage, or our record — but by blood.
The crimson tide through the Bible is the story of God refusing to leave humanity uncovered. It is the story of justice satisfied and mercy extended. It is the story of a Lamb slain before the foundation of the world — and a people redeemed by His blood.
That tide still flows.
And anyone who will step into it by faith will find that what was once scarlet becomes white as snow.
BDD
