Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow (Psalm 51:7).
Lady Macbeth knew.
Most of us can recall little of our high school Shakespeare, but we remember the murdering queen who walked and talked in her sleep. Night after night she got out of bed, still asleep, and tried to scrub the blood of her crimes from her hands. There was nothing visible on her skin, but she knew the blood—the sin—was there.
“Out, out, damn spot!” she cried, but she could not make herself clean. When the doctor saw her somnambulistic scrubbing, he commented that she did not need a doctor—she needed the Divine. This doctor knew his stuff—most in that time period would have gone with leeches.
Bad news—no one can cleanse your heart except God himself. Few would be willing, and none would be able.
Good news—God is more than willing, and he is more than able. Whiter than snow, Baby. Whiter than snow.
Put down the Boraxo, Beloved. Lift your heart to Him.