For weeks I have been observing places throughout the house that bare the mark of little hands. Two year old leaves evidence of his presence on every hard surface. There must be some delight in claiming your spot and making your mark. Pencil on walls, muddy hands imprint bathroom sinks, creamy white paint accepts the stain of red, so artistic and free. With every new discovery, I exhale a heavy sigh, pondering how long it will take to once again scrub the sink, wipe the walls and paint over, trading his artistic masterpiece for mine. I remember how clean and fresh the walls once were. I am amazed at the coverage of two small hands. The walls are tired and dirty now. I imagine even they long for the cool wipe of water to flush over them and restore. My task appears to have no end in sight. No sooner is one wiped clean and another demands my attention.

Such is the condition of the heart, of my heart.

Little hands have not contributed to this mess though. Only I can take credit for these stains and smudges. Bigger, more experienced hands, that should know better choose to mark on the crisp, clean walls of my heart. The clean walls were a costly gift, generously laid out before me. I love them. But, like little two year old, I succumb to the temptation, lack of self control and disobedience. And my once clean heart finds itself tainted by undesired filth.

I gently hand two year old a water soaked sponge. One in my hand, one in his, we begin the work. He bends to his level and wipes clean the marks, water soaking and dripping down. Perhaps he remembers the fun that lead to the muddy imprints and color streaks, perhaps no memory comes to him. We work hard restoring what we can until satisfaction rests on us and the work is done. Stern, but gentle warnings to not repeat the offense fall on his little ears and land in his little heart.

A water soaked sponge will not do for my needy heart. I am handed the Word, soaked in instruction, love and grace. Do I remember the moments which lead to the many stains and marks? Some are fresh, some undoubtedly done with little thought of consequence. Heart bows in humble thanks and the Almighty Redeemer reaches right into me and wipes me clean, first and forever with His blood and then with His Word. And at once I find myself with the invitation to start fresh again. Stern, but gentle warnings fall on my ears and land in my heart as well. I am thankful for grace and Holy eyes that see deep into me and love me enough to wipe the walls clean.

If we confess our sins he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. 1 John 1:9