I am not someone who delights in snow; however, even I am drawn to the pristine beauty of a freshly fallen snow, perhaps because I like the quiet stillness of it. Or perhaps because it covers the winter brown grass and the dingy gray of the streets.
The snow white-washes the harshness that winter wreaks upon the land. Ocasionally I try to white-wash my sins. Unfortunately, they can't be as easily disguised as the brown grass and gray streets. Sins have a way of clinging to a person like a bad smell.
Yuck.
Who wants to have a bunch of smelly sins clinging to them? Yet that is exactly what sins do. They burrow their way in to the very pores of our being.
This I know for sure: if I want to cleanse myself of sin, I cannot white wash them away. I must do the heavy lifting of repenting and finding a new way of living.
But then they can be white like snow. It's a beautiful promise.
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