It’s not what I expected. I would have thought robes washed in blood would have come out stained red. So, why then is the result of the washing so different from the process? The answer is because the process that makes me clean can’t leave a trace of itself. You see, if the blood that washed out my stain remained it would be itself a stain.
It is hard for me to fathom, but on one level there can be no cross in my completed life. It is not just enough to have my sin crucified – I must have my crucifixion crucified. The red must be washed white. Sure, in its dawn there is a shadow, but it dissipates in its day. Faith struggles. Hope struggles. But Love doesn’t.
You see, some cures leave a scar even after the disease is gone. There is a red mark that points to its pain. So, not all blood washes without leaving a stain. But the cross of Jesus doesn’t even leave the prints of the nails on me. It soothes its own scars. It blots its own blood. It wipes its own tears. It doesn’t just redeem, it restores my soul – without any unwanted side effects. There is no lingering limp or the sight of men walking around like trees. There is no lethargy, no pain, no soreness – nothing. Because the cross of yesterday has become the crown of tomorrow. Winter’s thorn has become Spring’s bloom. The heart’s bleeding is stopped when law and love are one.
Christ shed His blood and provided me with perfectly pure peace. He washed me in His blood that makes me whiter than snow. Calvary’s crimson clothes were transformed into brilliant white on the Mt. of Transfiguration. That’s why when I began my walk my garments were stained with blood, but one day I will walk in robes of brilliant, radiant white.