Like most children, Timmy was an adventurous six-year-old. Some would say he
continuously expressed himself in somewhat of an artistic fashion. Translation:
Timmy constantly drew on the walls with anything he could get his hands on.
Crayons were his choice of expression; owning the biggest box that Crayola made
helped arm him with a seemingly endless supply of colors that more than
adequately covered each wall up to four feet from the floor. In a diversity of
colors like Magenta, Outrageous Orange, and Robin’s Egg Blue, he created people,
animals, choo-choo trains, space-ships, and a thousand other things his
imagination would bring to life.
Not knowing what to do, Timmy’s father bought him a charcoal sketch kit complete
with a sketch pad and various shades of charcoal sketching briquettes. Now if
you are anything like me, you’re thinking maybe this was not a very good idea,
but after several long talks about not drawing on the walls, Timmy’s father
convinced him to instead use the sketch pads. And it worked. Timmy began using
the sketch pads and charcoal briquettes to create wonderful works of art. He
began drawing portraits of family members and neighbors, and everyone was amazed
at the accurate likenesses he had produced.
His now happy parents hired a crew of men to come in and repaint all the walls.
It took them nearly a week, but the end result was beautiful. His parents were
elated. As a matter of fact, Timmy’s mother had, after all, been wishing for the
walls to be freshly painted long before the crayons had ever touched them.
The proud parents then began hanging their son’s works of art all over the
house. The refrigerator doors were covered with sketch-pad drawings held by
fruit-shaped magnets. In the living room, many of his finer works were framed
and hung on the same walls he had once desecrated. One whole wall in the den was
completely covered from top to bottom with sketch-pad pages, and if I am not
mistaken, the opposite wall in the same room had a few as well.
Timmy enjoyed the sketch pad and charcoal briquettes, but he did miss drawing on
the walls. He knew he was not allowed to do it, but he couldn’t quite contain
himself. With a few darker colored Crayons, Timmy began drawing on the
dining-room walls. The dark shades formed fish, firemen, army tanks and several
other items stretching upward as far as his arms would reach.
As he looked at his drawings, he became overwhelmed with guilt. He decided to
try to wash the evidence from the walls so his parents would not be able to see
them, but the only towel he could find was the one he used when sketching with
the charcoal briquettes. He used this towel to wipe his hands clean from the
messy charcoal, so the rag was filthy, and when used on the walls only made them
worse. Now the walls were covered with Crayon drawings and dark charcoal smears.
So often I find myself in the same situation. I try to cleanse the filthy walls
of my sins by my own supposedly righteous efforts, but only make them filthier.
And no wonder, since Isaiah 64:6 reminds us that “…all our righteousnesses are
as filthy rags.” When will I learn that only God can do the job? For He alone
can cleanse the filthy walls of our sins, even those made filthier by our
self-righteous efforts to cleanse them without His aid. Better still, He can
cleanse the filthy rags of our self-righteousness as well, transforming them
into gleaming spotless cloths of holiness.
Mike Collins can be contacted by email at
mike@mikecollins.biz you may also visit
www.mikecollins.biz to read previous articles from this column.
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