A razzle-dazzle day!
Still clinging tight there, come morning, still powdered over ground,
and twinkling on rooftops.
And light glinting bright off branches hung with frozen droplets.
This being sheep-story day, my mind drifts, snowlike, to memories of sheep and snow…
They are standing in the pasture. So pristine, they look, so lovely white against the green-brown grass. Snow begins to flutter down mist, then flakes, then gathered clumps, lacy mini-sheep afloat. The fluff builds up on rocks and fields, and voila! the sheep change color, right before my eyes—seemingly! But not. Suddenly, I’m seeing them for what they really are.
Goodness! They aren’t white at all! Just a creamy sort of color, tinged with yellow patches and dull gray shadows, and horrors! brown around their lower portions. And blotches and blots of charcoal-black.
They looked white twenty minutes back. What happened? Nothing—except an altered standard of comparison.
Or is it the pure holiness of God?
There’s a white purity I can never achieve! Not I. But He says He can. Though my sins be scarlet dark, He says He can make them white as snow. Not just so they look snow white when no snow falls into juxtaposition—but that they really are just as clean, deep through.
Thanking God for the truths of Isaiah 1:18 and 1 John 1:9.
And praying, Lord God, let me not grow white-smug at any time. Always be near, and give me a mirror, so I can see your purity and my sinful dinginess, side by side in humbling comparison. Give me contriteness, and keep me drawing near You, that You might cleanse every tiny blot and blemish and ugly little stain before they grow and spread and shame your name. Make me purer than I can be, good Shepherd-Caretaker of my soul.
[Thanks to God, also, for this sheep-and-snow picture that shepherd-Husband long ago noticed and pondered in shared words.]