Though Your Sins Are Like Scarlet, They Shall Be As White As Snow

"How to Write Good"

After a restless night's sleep, I was woken by my wife informing me that it was snowing. Again.

Rule number 3 for "How to Write Good": Avoid clichés like the plague. They're old hat.

My apologies for being a rule breaker, but I've heard it said regarding winter: "In like a lion. Out like a lamb." The lion definitely did not sleep last night. With more bone-chilling temps projected for this week, this winter apparently wants to go out the way it came in - with a roar. That poor lamb doesn't stand a chance.

 People said the same thing about Jesus (and they still do). In the pages of Scripture, Jesus is described both as a Lion and as a Lamb. He definitely came into this world like a Lamb. Meek and mild, he took his first breath in a barn. Weak and wearied, he breathed his last on a cross. But three days later, having devoured death, that Lion roared back to life.

Growing up in equatorial Africa, I dreamt in vain for a white Christmas. They were always green. We
never had to run to the flower shop to buy poinsettias. Our yard was already punctuated with them. Now, having called the Midwest home for more than half my life, I dream in vain for the temperate Christmases of my youth. I'm not much for snow.

Snow Covered Poinsettias

And yet, there is something undeniably beautiful about that freshly fallen stuff. I would rather look at that bright blanket than at what lies beneath - last Autumn's fallen leaves, branches broken from the weight of Christmas' ice storm, and three months worth of our dogs' waste. This latest snow fall covers a multitude of sins.

I thought about that image this morning as I headed into the city to perform a baptism for the infant daughter of a family in the congregation that I shepherd. Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow (Isaiah 1:18). No matter how messy or broken that little one's life gets, Jesus has her covered. His forgiveness will always top her sins.

Roar on, Jesus.

And if you must, roar on, Winter. Though I'd rather you didn't.