Clean Hands and a Smudged Face

Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, And cleanse me from my sin. ~Psalm 51:2, NKJV

This ongoing, forever sure salvation is mine. Given by the amazing grace of God, being revealed daily, and stored up for the time when I meet Him in the home He is preparing.

Yeah, see, this is indeed why an unbeliever quirks their eyebrows at our vocabulary. A question flashes through their mind, so blatant I can read it on their face.

Why do I need to be saved?

You’re a sinner.

Naw, I’m a pretty good person. I pay my taxes, take care of my family, and haven’t stolen anything more important that a pencil.

But you’re still a sinner.

I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Kind of like a conversation I had once with my son when he didn’t want to take a bath. “Mom, my hands are clean. I just washed them.”

I looked at his smudged face, inhaled is odoriferous, sweaty little boy stench. “No, son, you’re dirty.”

“But I just washed my hands!”

He couldn’t see his grimy face. He didn’t recognize that he stinks. All he knew is that his hands were clean.

This is our unsaved hearts. I can’t come to God with clean hands and a smudged face—it’d be like my son only washing his hands before going to his uncle’s wedding. He can’t be the ring bearer smelling like last week’s socks and looking like he’d rolled in the dust. It just isn’t done, because it’s rude, it’s disrespectful, and it’s wrong.

We look at our works and maybe think, I’m good. I don’t need a cleansing. But the truth is, without the scrubbing that comes from Christ, we stink.  Every one of us. So when I say that I’m saved, I’m saying that I have been and I am being washed. Washed in the atonement given by the death and resurrection of Jesus, so that now I can go to the wedding. Clean, inside and out.

About Jen

My name is Jen. I dream of ranching, writing and a clean kitchen. I know... the kitchen thing is pretty far-fetched. Welcome to my delightful chaos.
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