My Case

“Come now, and let us debate your case,” Says the Lord, “Though your sins are as scarlet, They shall become as white as snow; Though they are red like crimson, They shall be like wool. “If you are willing and obedient, You will eat the best of the land;” Isaiah 1:18‭-‬19

How permanent; how forever my sin should actually be. How irremovable. Like the insect staining all that it touches, attached till death and beyond, sin should have no answer. There should be no solution. I have no case.

And yet, my God offers something else.

My sins were like the insects that held on and never let go. My sins were the flesh that stained all they touched. My spirit was that decaying corpse that should have left its indelible mark that nothing and no one could erase.

But no. My sins then met my God.

What force it took, what power, to remove what could never be removed. Scarlett wool doesn't fade; it doesn't turn white. And yet all color faded at my Savior's touch. And yet what a cost! 

My crimson wool was washed with the most priceless substance imaginable since it was the only substance that could ever wash it clean. My crimson wreck of a soul was dipped into the very mud made by the pool of blood that fell hot at Jesus's feet. I should have been ruined, I should have been tossed; a garment useless because the only kind worth having was white. But instead of treating me like the stained refuse I know that I am, I was washed in the blood of the one who watched me choose the stains over him every single time. Oh, what good am I? What worm has been paid for at such a price?

“Then they will go out and look at the corpses of the people Who have rebelled against Me. For their worm will not die And their fire will not be extinguished; And they will be an abhorrence to all mankind.” Isaiah 66:24

I should be such as them! I should be looked at and despised for the creeping, crawling thing that I am, wholly undesirable and that which no price should be paid for.

That, my Lord, is my case. That is the evidence.

I stand before the judgment seat, crimson and scarlet, oozing from every orifice and staining every surface with festering, permanent color. I wait to see you avert your eyes in disgust. I tremble for the words that should cast me out of your presence for being irretrievable.

Instead, I see you smile, and you say, "I have made you white as snow."

I look down, and suddenly, I am! I am as white as snow. Better still, I am so white, I'm as pure and glowing as you.

"Come, my daughter," you say to my awestruck ears, "for those who are white as wool may sit and eat the best of the land."

"How can this be?" I cry, for how, exactly, can this be?

All you do is motion your head, and I see the cause and result of this miracle. Standing before me is the Son, the Ancient Of Days, and I see where my stain has gone. The seeping blood and putrid red that clung to me now clings to him, and I wail.

He cries out to you, "Why have you forsaken me?" and you just turn your head. He dies there, my filth resting on him, and you turn your gaze upon me and look at me with all the love you ever used to look at your Son.

And then my joy is complete because your risen Son steps to my side, shining in glory, takes me by the hand, and we enter your rest together forever.

Oh the sweetness that you are. Oh the goodness. May my worthlessness in the face of your mercy bring you praise upon praise. I hope the angels are singing. I hope the saints are praising. Because every moment of all time forevermore should only ever echo your name.

In my Jesus's name, amen