The other day Matt and I were working on a project upstairs. The kids were down in the living room watching TV. All seemed fine. Then that feeling came over me. You know the one. The overwhelming sensation when you know something is wrong because it is way too quiet.
When we went downstairs to check on the children we discovered that our three year old had done some coloring—on the couch!! With a blue ink pen no less. On every arm of every chair. It was a royal mess.
To say I was furious is an understatement. But in my disappointed mindset, I took pictures. Of course I did. I wanted evidence of this encroachment. And proof to later show her own children.
Then I was reminded of the time our now six year old painted her toe nails all by herself. She was also three at the time of her offense. She waited until I was out running errands and Daddy was at the helm. She got out various colors of polish on her own and started painting her toes... and her feet... and her ankles... all the way up to her underwear. She was literally covered in bottles and bottles of enamel.
Both coloring situations are cleaned up now. Our oldest daughter took a very long bath and the younger one scrubbed the couch with rubbing alcohol for almost an hour. But both demeanors and poor judgments have been forgiven and wiped clean. Spotless.
Just like our own spots and blotches that are covering us. The ones caused by our sin and are discoloring our white robes. Our demenaors, our sins, our transgressions are washed clean. Not by soaking in water. Not with mineral spirits or even bleach. No, Jesus washed us clean with something much more marvelous. His blood. Who knew? A mess plus blood equals a white robe. Forgiven and wiped clean. Spotless.
All to Him I owe;
Sin had left a crimson stain,
He washed it white as snow.
For nothing good have I
Whereby Thy grace to claim,
I’ll wash my garments white
In the blood of Calv’ry’s Lamb.
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