Wash Away My Sins

 “Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.” (Psalm 51:2)

Have I told you that spring is my favorite season of the year? Trick question. It’s true, I love the beauty of the flowers, and I am enthralled as I watch nature awaken from its winter slumber.

But there’s one thing about spring of which I am not a big fan. It kinda grosses me out. It’s the pollen. Between the pine trees, the flowering shrubs, and all the other plants erupting in full bloom, pollen is everywhere. It coats every outdoor surface. When you rub up against something, you come away with a yellow smudge on your clothes. 

I didn't want to shame anybody
by taking a picture of their car,
so I used this meme instead.
Totally accurate depiction.

Cars are especially vulnerable to the pollen. Well, and our noses, too.

Even when I open the door to the car, the pollen has found its way inside, on top of the wheel well. 

It’s everywhere, I tell you. Everywhere.

Thank God for the March rains and April showers, though. Not only do they bring the May flowers, but they also wash the pollen off of everything. After a good shower you will find streams of yellow-streaked runoff carrying the pollen away, and psychedelic pools of water with swirls of pollen floating in them. And just like that, the pollen is gone. Until it comes again. But for a moment, at least, everything is clean.

"For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me."

(Psalm 51:3) 

Whenever I see the spring pollen, I can’t help but think about the pervasive nature of our sin. It’s probably because I’m a Presbyterian, and we are sort of fixated on sin. Sin is everywhere, both personally and collectively. I know a lot of people don’t like to talk about sin, because it sounds preachy. But believe me, sin is real. And it finds its way into every aspect of our lives. Presbyterians, who love to throw around big words, call the thoroughgoing nature of sin “total depravity.” Because simply saying that we are sinners isn't enough.

Sin is everywhere. And here’s the deal: You and I can’t get rid of it, at least not by ourselves. We need help. We need a bath. Or maybe a power wash.

One of my favorite people of the Bible is David. A lot of people like David because he threw a rock at a giant and killed him. I like David because he bares his heart before God. And because he wrote a ton of psalms, he also bares his heart before us. “For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me… Indeed, I was born guilty, a sinner when my mother conceived me.” (Psalm 51:3,5) 

David was a very self-aware person. He knew that on his own he could not escape his sinfulness. The solution to his sin had to come from outside of himself. And so he turned to God:

“Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.” (Psalm 51:1, 2)

“Purge me with hyssop (whatever that is – probably some kind of supersoap), and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.” (Psalm 51:7)

“Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a right and new spirit within me.” (Psalm 51:10)

In an act of profound faith, David sought what he needed – forgiveness, cleansing from his sin – from God. Because David knew that God is gracious and compassionate, and that God is about the business of forgiving us and renewing us. 

A few hundred years later, one of Jesus’ disciples would offer this assurance: “If we confess our sin, God is faithful and just, and will forgive our sins and cleanse us of all unrighteousness.” (1 John 1:9) There’s that word again – cleanse. God washes our sins away, even better than the spring rains wash away the pollen.

I don’t know about you, but I always feel much better after taking a shower.

Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, O God, and cleanse me from my sin.

Dirty Hands

 “If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us of all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9)

So, yesterday was Ash Wednesday. I love Ash Wednesday – it’s the only day when people actually line up so I can tell them they are sinners. Go figure.

We had an Ash Wednesday service at our retirement village. But since not everyone would be able to attend the Ash Wednesday service, I carried my bowl of ashes with me throughout the day, making the ashes available to people who would ask me for them. 

Ashes on demand. Service with a smile.

Seriously, though, it is a sacred moment when I have the privilege of saying to the person standing before me, “You are dust, and to dust you will return.” Those are the traditional words spoken when imposing ashes on the forehead. The ashes, in the form of a cross, are a visible reminder of our mortality and our sinfulness, as well as the price that our Lord paid in order to save us from our mortality and our sinfulness.

At the end of the day, my finger was black with ashes caked in oil. Even after washing my hands, the ashes were still under my fingernails. I had to scrape them out when I got home. Sorry for planting the image in your mind.

Not only that, I realized that throughout the day there were things that I picked up and touched with my dirty hand, leaving an ashen fingerprint stain. I found an ash-print on my computer, on one of my calling cards, on a book I was reading. My ever-present coffee cup was the worst, with ashes smeared all over it. Everything I touched was stained.

It got me to thinking about the pervasive nature of sin. Everything – everyone – is tainted, stained by our sinfulness. Not that everyone is a horrible, no-good, very bad person; rather, it’s just that sin corrupts our being, and it makes us less than who God has created us to be. And no matter how hard we try, no matter how careful we are, we just can’t rid ourselves of our sin. The apostle John noted long ago that “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.” (1 John 1:8) He was right – he is right – there is no use in denying our sinfulness. 

"If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves..."

But John did not stop there. He did not stop by reminding us of our sin, because our sin is not the last word he needed to say. And so he continued: “If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” (1 John 1:9)

Thank God that our sinfulness is not the final word for us. Our God does not leave us to wallow in our stained, broken nature. Indeed, the very heart of the Gospel is that God does for us that which we are unable to do for ourselves – God saves us from our sin. 

The final word is grace. 

Yesterday, as I was applying the ashes to the foreheads of my people, I felt an unease at stopping at the words, “...to dust you will return.” I can only describe it as a nudging of the Holy Spirit, but I felt like I had to add words of hope. (I can already hear the gasps of the liturgical purists who will insist that there is nothing to add to “...to dust you will return.”) And so after I said, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you will return,” I added, “and by the grace of God through our Lord Jesus Christ, you will be raised again.”

I felt like I had to say that.

Because the final word has to be grace.

A Prayer for Healing... from Sin

Create in me a pure heart, O God,

     and renew a steadfast spirit within me.

Do not cast me away from your presence

     or take your Holy Spirit from me.

Restore to me the joy of your salvation

     and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.

Then I will teach transgressors your ways, 

     so that sinners will turn back to you.

(Psalm 51:10-13)

Merciful and gracious God,

I have been so focused during this season

on one disease: COVID-19.

And with good reason, 

for the coronavirus has turned our world

upside down.

People around the world are dying from the disease,

thousands every day.

Our best science cannot cure it;

our best science simply says

that we should stay in our homes,

  and wash hands,

    and wear masks.

And so, with good reason,

my prayers have sought healing from COVID-19

and from the effects of the pandemic:

Heal your people, O God.

But there’s another disease to consider, O Lord,

Especially this time of the year,

in the days we refer to as Holy Week.

It’s a disease with one hundred percent infection

and one hundred percent mortality.

There’s a name for this disease, O Lord:

SIN.

I have the disease, Lord;

I have had it all my life;

and I cannot cure myself.

I can try to hide the effects of this disease

from people around me:

  I do good things,

  I help people,

  I show compassion to others.

I can put on a good show.

Omniscient God from whom nothing is hidden,

  you know I have the disease;

  you know I am a sinner;

  you know the corruption of my heart.

I cannot hide my heart from you, O Lord.

  You know my sins.

  You know my secrets.

  You know the things that taint and corrupt 

       the beauty of your image in me.

But then, as I remember your Son this week:

  betrayed

    denied – three times

      arrested and tortured,

        abandoned – by his friends, and by you 

          crucified – for me, 

                         and for every other sinner before me

                         and for every sinner alongside me

                         and for every sinner after me.

And so I know that there is a cure for my disease.

It’s not a cure I can conjure;

it’s a gift from you.

Thank you.

I cannot hide my heart from you, O Lord.

But I can give it to you:

Take me as I am, but do not leave me this way, I pray.

Take me, and wash me, 

    that I may be made clean and pure.

Take me, and purge from me 

    those things that have corrupted my being.

Take me, and make me a new creation.

Create in me a pure heart, O God, 

    for the sake of your glory and grace.

Heal me, I pray, of my sin.

Amen.

During the season of Lent, I am "Praying with David," using prayers from the psalms as inspiration for personal prayers.