But the Pharisees and the men who taught the law for the Pharisees began to complain to Jesus’ followers, “Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?” Jesus answered them, “It is not the healthy people who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to invite good people but sinners to change their hearts and lives.” [Luke 5:30-32 (NCV)]
My mother always cleaned our house before the cleaning woman came. She explained that she didn’t want her to see how dirty our home had gotten since the last cleaning. This doesn’t make much sense to me, but I know many women who do the same thing. They are so ashamed of the dirt and mess in their homes that they straighten it up before the cleaning service arrives. Of course, there are others who won’t let anyone in the house unless it is on an absolute “need to enter” basis!
It makes even less sense that many of us aren’t willing to let God into our hearts because of the dirt and mess we’ve made in our lives. Jesus didn’t spend His time with self-righteous religious leaders; he spent His time with sinners who were always welcome at His table. Before they met Jesus, Matthew and Zacchaeus were corrupt tax collectors, Mary Magdalene was possessed by demons, and the woman at the well had what could politely be called a “colorful” past. Jesus came to cleanse us from sin, yet we seem unwilling to allow him to see our sins so He can do His job.
Because we won’t let God into our dirty house, we are often afraid to enter into His, yet church is exactly where we should go if we’re sinners. It is a misconception that only the “pure of heart” will be found in church. The amazing thing about God’s house is that everyone there is a sinner and they all know it! As our pastor often reminds us, “Church is not a country club for saints but rather a hospital for sinners!”
We don’t have to clean up our act before we turn to Him; he will clean it up for us. All we have to do is uncover the filth and admit that we are sinners. Once we relinquish our sin, we just need to ask His forgiveness. We don’t need to be ashamed if we’re soiled; church is like a cleaning service for the soul. Jesus is waiting there for us, scrub brush in hand, ready to make us fresh and clean.
Almighty God, our heavenly Father, who of his great mercy hath promised forgiveness of sins to all those who with hearty repentance and true faith turn unto him; have mercy upon you; pardon and deliver you from all your sins; confirm and strengthen you in all goodness; and bring you to everlasting life; through Jesus Christ our Lord. [Absolution from “The Book of Common Prayer” (1952)]
It was well past midnight when I finally rolled into bed. Barely able to keep my eyes open, I reached over to read my evening’s meditation. How we choose to spend our time was the topic and the author wrote of the futility of building sandcastles that would be washed away in the tide. “It all may seem worthwhile, but in the end it’s worthless,” were his words. Since I’d just spent countless hours working on line to create a photo book for my mother-in-law, I stopped reading and moaned, “Oh Lord, was this project a sandcastle? Is the book not worthy of the hours I spent creating it?” I’d neglected my writing to finish this project and now the words I was reading filled me with self-reproach. Had I wasted precious time? I knew the book wouldn’t disappear with the tide but would it be appreciated? Perhaps it would be read and forgotten or maybe never even seen. After all, my mother-in-law is 100 years old and her clock is winding down. There was always the possibility that, by the time was book was printed and shipped, it would arrive after she departed! I started thinking of all the other more important or worthy things I could have done with those many hours.
Hoping to get a good cardio workout, I’d ramped up the resistance and programmed the machine for a variety of hills, some of which were real killers. Whenever I glanced down at the screen, I groaned at what lay ahead of me. No matter where I was in the program, I was already looking ahead and dreading the next big challenge. Every time I looked at the timer, I lamented the length of time remaining for this self-inflicted torture. After placing my towel over the screen, the workout seemed easier. No longer able to see the hills or time remaining, I stopped dreading the next challenge and the ones after that. I just pumped away, secure in the knowledge that, eventually, my workout would be over.
“Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives,” goes the introduction to the NBC soap opera Days of Our Lives. Since that show has aired more than 13,000 episodes since 1965, something tells me the show’s hourglass has been flipped over several times. While that hourglass keeps getting turned, the hourglass that numbers the days of our lives is glued to the table—once the sand runs through to the other side, it’s all over. Moreover, none of us have any idea how large our individual hourglass happens to be. The days of our lives are both finite and unknown.
Devotions of the Heart 