It was a crazy weekend. It was Saturday morning and I had not done my laundry for days. The portable washing machine I had was malfunctioning and I couldn’t survive one more week because I was running out of clean clothes. So with all the resolve I could muster, I shut my doors to clinical work and set out to do my chores. I was going to go the traditional way.
This was one chore that was stressful for me. Bending my back, scrubbing those clothes with my hands soaked in water and soap; squeezing water out of those fibres. What a herculean task! But I survived. And after about three hours, I was done. Then there came the feeling. I felt good. Really good. Staring at those clothes, which were once dirty and smelling, now sitting in my bucket sparkling and scenting good, made my day. If my only reward for this toil of washing was this clean feeling, it was worth it. And then the Holy Spirit drew the analogy.
I was quickly reminded that I was blood-washed. Oh how sorry my pre-salvation state was! When I was buried in the mud of sin helpless. Oh how unsightly it was, knowing the terrible things I wasn’t supposed to do, and finding myself doing those exact same things. And then how the Love of God, embodied in a human form as Jesus Christ, came down to the earth, to work His work of showing me how to live, and finally dieing on a cross, to pay the utmost ransom for my redemption.
I was quickly reminded that the ransom was His blood, which was His life. For the life of a flesh is in the blood. And that blood did the cleansing. A cleansing that was far from superficial. For it purged even to the conscience, giving me a new life and a clean slate. A cleansing that not only forgave my sins, but one that justified me, like I had never sinned. For the cleansing work of His blood defied all cleaning mechanism ever known. For it took care of all sins – those committed and those to be committed.
I could picture His blood straining through every fibre of my being, doing its purifying work. For the blood that made me perfect at the new birth, was still doing its purifying work of keeping me perfect. Its potency is unrivalled, ever able to keep me from evil.
Then I discovered the feelings were unparalleled. For the feeling I had when I stood peering at those clean clothes, was nothing compared to that I now had after reminiscing on the finished work of Christ. It felt so good staring at my new man in Christ. It felt really good.
And as I carried the bucket to spread my clothes, I was grinning from ear to ear, my risorius aching. I couldn’t stop smiling, for I enjoyed the feeling, and was the more motivated to live out the resurrected life. For it feels good to be blood-washed.