His hands were trembling the most, though his whole body quivered. He felt so … naked, even in this crowd – especially in this crowd. Never before did the shabbiness of his fig-leaf sewing seem so obvious.
Yet here he stood: not daring to look up, holding something above his head, something that throbbed, sizzled, and oozed. The sizzling and oozing came from the charring ulcer which ate away at it. The black ooze and bright red blood streamed through his fingers, down his arms, and over his body. The blood he didn’t mind so much, but the ooze seemed to sting and kill wherever it touched.
Why was he here? In his condition, this seemed to be the last place he should want to be and the last thing he should ever want to do.
But the pastor had said, “Lift up your hearts.” So here he was, doing just that. But what would God want with a heart eaten away by sin? Wouldn’t He just throw it away? But then perhaps He would provide a new one, a healthy one. But even so, what would prevent it from dying like the first?
That’s when, somehow, he began to realize something about the blood. The blood was not his. It was pure blood, pouring over his body, chasing the black ooze, diluting it, indeed washing it away. And as he glanced down through the wet blur from his eyes, he also noticed that he wasn’t naked either. The fig leaves were gone, and a clean, bright, white robe now completely covered him. “Wha- …, how …? Why?”
“If You, O LORD, kept a record of sins, O Lord, who could stand? But with You there is forgiveness; therefore You are feared.” – Psalm 130:3-4
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