Clean Hands

You've heard of Murphy's Law: "If anything can go wrong, it will." Parents soon discover another principle we could call "Messy's Law": "If there's any way for a child to get dirty, he will."

When our three children were small, my wife and I made sure they were well-scrubbed and neatly dressed before we left for church on Sunday morning. But by the time we arrived at the church building, our spotless little ones were beset by a host of grooming goblins: melted chocolate on their pants, knots in their hair, ink on their fingers.

A similar affliction plagued me when I was a boy. My mother often asked me, "Did you wash your hands?" She had good reason for concern. During a typical day, my hands touched basketballs (often), school books (not often enough), animals (I grew up on a farm), and enough other bacteria-laden items to warrant a thorough scrubbing before I approached the dinner table. Kids aren't germ-free zones.

When people brought little children to Jesus, though, he didn't send them away with the angry rebuke, "Go wash up first!" Just the way they were, "he took the children in his arms, put his hands on them and blessed them" (Mark 10:16). Now, perhaps the parents of those children spruced them up a bit before bringing them to Jesus. But it wouldn't surprise me if some of those kids bounced merrily up to the Lord with uncombed hair, grass stains on their knees, and some dirt under their fingernails.

Come to think of it, isn't that how we all come to Jesus? If we try to clean ourselves up first, and wait till we have every detail in place, we may never come to him at all.

That was the Pharisees' problem. They were fussy about their handwashing ceremonies, and they washed their dishes the "right" way (Mark 7:1-4). But no ritual detergent was strong enough to cleanse their dirty hearts. Nor could the water in Pilate's basin when he washed his hands at Jesus' trial to avoid responsibility for crucifying an innocent man.

I'm all for clean hands. I want the surgeon to scrub before operating on me and the cook to wash before handling my food. But there's a deeper kind of cleansing that comes only from the blood of the Lamb. It's a free gift we receive, not an accomplishment we achieve.

How freely Jesus touched others! He washed his disciples' dirty feet, made mud with his own saliva and used it to heal a blind man's eyes, and grabbed Peter's faltering hand lest he drown in the Sea of Galilee. He touched a man with leprosy and cured him instantly. That's the love of Jesus.

Others said, "Keep your distance," but he came close and risked his own safety to meet a need.

Others touched Jesus, too. The apostle John described him as the Word of life "which we have looked at and our hands have touched" (1 John 1:1). Grateful hands touched him when a sinful woman washed his feet with her tears. Rough hands touched him when soldiers nailed him to the cross. Brave hands touched him when two distinguished leaders revealed their secret loyalty to Christ and laid his battered body in the tomb.

What about your hands and mine? "Who may ascend the hill of the Lord?" the psalmist asks. "Who may stand in his holy place? He who has clean hands and a pure heart" (Psalm 24:3, 4). But how can we clean up when we live in a sin-polluted world where even our righteous deeds are like filthy rags (Isaiah 64:6)?

The songwriter was right. "What can wash away my sin? Nothing but the blood of Jesus."