22 January 2011

Dirty Hands

The Law makes sin appear exceedingly sinful; the Gospel makes sin feel exceedingly painful.-Phil Johnson

Children enjoy getting dirty. They dive into the mud and the muck, unrepentant. There is a joy in experiencing filth, first hand. I have noticed, though, that many children eventually come to their parents seeking to be cleaned, seemingly knowing how powerless they are to do it on their own. 

We are the same way, aren't we?  In the moment, sin often feels good.  On some level, we enjoy staring at forbidden images.  We like to hold on to past hurts, secretly gloating when our offenders stumble. We find ten thousand ways to replace God with the mundane.

At some point, through the conviction of the Holy Spirit, we may start to recognize corruption in our lives and desire to be clean. Unfortunately, too often, we lack insight into our powerlessness. We try to purify ourselves, but discover that our efforts are futile and leave us corrupt.

In a few paragraphs of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, CS Lewis wrote about our inability to clean ourselves. The intolerable Eustace becomes a dragon when he places a band of gold on his arm and eventually becomes a boy again. He shared his experience of meeting Aslan the lion with the other travelers (the passage is long, but worth the read):

"Well, anyway, I looked up and saw the very last thing I expected: a huge lion coming slowly towards me. And one queer thing was that there was no moon last night, but there was moonlight where the lion was. So it came nearer and nearer. I was terribly afraid of it. You may think that, being a dragon, I could have knocked any lion out easily enough. But it wasn't that kind of fear. I wasn't afraid of it eating me, I was just afraid of it--if you can understand. Well, it came closer up to me and looked straight into my eyes. And I shut my eyes tight. But that wasn't any good because it told me to follow it."

"You mean it spoke?"


"I don't know. Now that you mention it, I don't think it did. But it told me all the same. And I knew I'd have to do what it told me, so I got up and followed it. And it led me away a long way into the mountains. And there was always this moonlight over and round the lion wherever we went. So at last we came to the top of a mountain I'd never seen before and on the top of this mountain there was a garden--trees and fruit and everything. In the middle of it there was a well.


"I knew it was a well because you could see the water bubbling up from the bottom of it: but it was a lot bigger than most wells--like a very big, round bath with marble steps going down into it. The water was as clear as anything and thought if I could get in there and bathe it would ease the pain in my leg. But the lion told me I must undress first. Mind you, I don't know if he said any words out loud or not. 


"I was just going to say that I couldn't undress because I hadn't any clothes on when I suddenly thought that dragons are snaky sort of things and snakes can cast their skins. Oh, of course, thought I, that's what the lion means. So I started scratching myself and my scales began coming off all over the place. And then I scratched a little deeper and, instead of just scales coming off here and there, my whole skin started peeling off beautifully, like it does after an illness, or as if I was a banana. In a minute or two I just stepped out of it. I could see it lying there beside me, looking rather nasty. It was a most lovely feeling. So I started to go down into the well for my bathe.


"But just as I was going to put my foot into the water I looked down and saw that it was all hard and rough and wrinkled and scaly just as it had been before. Oh, that's alright, said I, it only means I had another smaller suit on underneath the first one, and I'll have to get out of it too. So I scratched and tore again and this underskin peeled off beautifully and out I stepped and left it lying beside the other one and went down to the well for my bathe. 


"Well, exactly the same thing happened again. And I thought to myself, oh dear, how ever many skins have I got to take off? For I was longing to bathe my leg. So I scratched away for the third time and got off a third skin, just like the two others, and stepped out of it. But as soon as I looked at myself in the water I knew it had been no good. 


"Then the lion said--but I don't know if it spoke--You will have to let me undress you. I was afraid of his claws, I can tell you, but I was pretty nearly desperate now. So I just lay flat down on my back to let him do it.


"The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I've ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off. You know--if you've ever picked the scab of a sore place. It hurts like billy-oh but it is such fun to see it coming away."


"I know what you mean" said Edmund. 


"Well, he peeled the beastly stuff right off--just as I thought I'd done it to myself the other three times, only they hadn't hurt--and there it was lying on the grass: only ever so much thicker, and darker, and more knobbly looking than the others had been. And there was I as smooth and soft as a peeled switch and smaller than I had been. Then he caught hold of me--I didn't like that much for I was very tender underneath now that I'd no skin on--and threw me into the water. It smarted like anything but only for a moment. After that it became perfectly delicious and as soon as I started swimming and splashing I found that all the pain had gone from my arm. And then I saw why. I'd turned into a boy again. You'd think me simply phoney if I told you how I felt about my own arms. I know they've no muscle and are pretty mouldy compared with Caspian's, but I was so glad to see them. 


"After a bit the lion took me out and dressed me--"


"Dressed you.  With his paws?" 


"Well, I don't exactly remember that bit. But he did somehow or other: in new clothes--the same I've got on now, as a matter of fact."

We cannot cleanse ourselves.  David understood this when he penned Psalm 51:

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!  


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

Against you, you only, have I sinned
and done what is evil in your sight, 

so that you may be justified in your words
and blameless in your judgment. 

Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity,
and in sin did my mother conceive me. 

Behold, you delight in truth in the inward being,
and you teach me wisdom in the secret heart. 


Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;
wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. 

Let me hear joy and gladness;
let the bones that you have broken rejoice. 

Hide your face from my sins,
and blot out all my iniquities. 

Create in me a clean heart, O God,
and renew a right spirit within me. 

Cast me not away from your presence,
and take not your Holy Spirit from me. 

Restore to me the joy of your salvation,
and uphold me with a willing spirit. 


Then I will teach transgressors your ways,
and sinners will return to you. 

Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, O God,
O God of my salvation,
and my tongue will sing aloud of your righteousness. 

O Lord, open my lips,
and my mouth will declare your praise. 

For you will not delight in sacrifice, or I would give it;
you will not be pleased with a burnt offering. 

The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise. 


Do good to Zion in your good pleasure;
build up the walls of Jerusalem; 

then will you delight in right sacrifices,
in burnt offerings and whole burnt offerings;
then bulls will be offered on your altar.


We do not present ourselves to God unblemished.  We come filthy. Like little children, we must come in our powerlessness. 1 John 1:9 says, "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." Thanks be to good that coming clean depends not on our abilities, but upon God's faithfulness.

1 comment:

Turquoise Gates said...

I am blogging about this...sort of...tomorrow - already written. Romans 8 has been hitting me afresh.