On most of the mornings in Denver the mountains greet me. Their looming presence forty miles west of us provides a compelling backdrop. The views never get old, and seldom seem to repeat. Something about the mountains changes every day.
Having said all of that, I still was unprepared for what I witnessed a few days ago. While on the short route from our front door to the newspaper in our driveway I glanced west, as I do nearly every morning, only to hear myself gasp. Overnight the mountains had been transformed. While the colors of fall still surrounded me, and while the distant foothills still reflected their typical brownish tones, the mountains were glistening white. The sun pounded onto the image, much like a massive spotlight on a talented rock star.
This was no mid-fall dusting. This was complete transformation.
And so I stood; I’m sure quite a sight to my neighbors and passersby; barefoot and in my pjs. I was awed by the beauty, but paralyzed by the change.
“Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.” ~ Psalm 51:7 (ESV)
It was this heart-stopping image that King David pled for. He begged for transformation. The filth of his own failure, and the shame of his corrupted power loomed over him; and so he prayed. For forgiveness. For mercy. For transformation.
Like David, my sin is in front of me. I’m aware of the deception and self-reliance, which draws me to Jesus; our spiritual blizzard.
Jesus is no fall dusting. There are no flurries in the forecast with Him.
He is the transformational cleansing, the snowstorm of all snowstorms.
Whatever the guilt, wherever there is shame; Jesus.
I caught a glimpse of change. I witnessed transformation, first in my senses, and then in my soul. We have been made whiter than the most pristine mountain drifts. We are clean. Washed pure.
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