Bath time & August nights.

Though your sins are scarlet.

Like those nights your mom insisted you bath before touching your freshly washed sheets on those sticky, mud-crusted, hard day of play, August nights. Little stubby legs fold in the tub as your mom leaned over the edge, tickling toes with her gentle, yet, determined scrub, giving hushed warning before lathering with the soap that’s suds repelled from the hair, to the forehead, to the eyes, & the nose. The lasting impression of burn in the eyes always turned playful, toy-boat sound effects into a firm, gritting smile, making the suds continue their trail, leaving a taste worse than those smelly, fish stick dinners.

Yet, it was effortless ease, as the hot water’s scorch lifted into a fireside warmth, & bedtime never felt (or smelt) better.

 

Though your sins are scarlet.

They won’t stay the night, leaving gritty chunks of sandbox leftovers in your bed, forming sandcastles for the bed bugs to make home in. They feel heavy, but weight is, in the end, something that can be lifted. Colors, something that can be stripped transcendent. A purest form.

 

He’ll make them white as snow.

Come now, let us settle the matter,

says the Lord.

Though your sins are like scarlet.

they shall be as white as snow;

Though they are red as crimson,

they shall be like wool.

[Isaiah 1:18]

 

This is the verse I have been gnawing on for the past week, mauling over in random parts through out the day when this phrase would surface in the midst of my unorganized thoughts. Though your sins are scarlet, He’ll make them white as snow.  & He doesn’t say under any certain circumstance. He doesn’t say He is looking for all the blue-eyed beauts or the dashing red-heads or the people who can maintain a 4.0. He doesn’t say that. Though your sins are scarlet, He’ll make them white as snow. He just calls to come now, & settle what’s keeping you from seeing His face. Come to Him & settle it. Speak to the elephant in the room. Let the cat out of the bag so you can get down to the good part.

 

& the bath isn’t a prerequisite (the little children shout a hoorah).

 

His call sounds the same as your mother’s bath time shout.  Come it’s time. & next thing you know you are running to the one who is crouched down with arms awaiting your presence, wanting nothing more than mud-covered little you to come so you can settle the matter already.

 

He lifts you.

He carries you.

He places you.

& He cleanses you.

 

 

 You are pure.

You are transcendent when He comes, as He strips you of all the gunk under your fingernails & scrubs your wandering feet clean. He takes the names you have made for yourself & been designated & replaces it with purity. With newness.

 

 & your name as a child of God, beloved one—these are not nicknames. They are your identity. Paul didn’t introduce himself as Paul who is sometimes called Saul by his old buddies, & you can call him whatever you want. This wasn’t the case for Saul, it wasn’t the case for Abraham, it wasn’t the case for Sarah, & it isn’t the case for you.

 

 

He says,

Behold, I am making all things new.

[REVELATION 21:5]

 

The past is the leaves as they finally trust to remove their grip, and you are that tree remaining, tall and free, with arms outstretched in wonder. It’s time to await new buds, new leaves to behold an untold beauty.

 

 

We implore you on Christ’s behalf: Be reconciled to God.

God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become

the righteousness of God.

[2 CORINTHIANS 5:20-21]