Stormwater and Grace

My sister said something simple the other day and it stayed with me. Then at about one in the morning, while I was lying in bed turning it over in my mind, it came back with even more force.

She said that as sinners we are like people drowning under a torrent of dirty stormwater, always rushing over us. But when we are saved, we are covered instead in the sweet pure water of God's grace.

That is not bad at all. In fact, it says something true about the human condition and something even truer about the mercy of God.

Sin is not a little smudge on the sleeve. It is not merely a few poor choices here and there. Sin is filth. It runs through the world and through us. It stains what is good, twists what is straight and leaves people choking on their own rebellion. Left to ourselves we do not stand on the bank making thoughtful observations about sin. We are in it. Swept up in it. Soaked by it. Carried along by it.

That is one of the great lies of human pride, that we are not really that bad. That we are basically decent people who need a bit of guidance and a touch of polishing. Scripture is not nearly so flattering. It says we are sinners by nature and by choice. Not paddling in shallow water, but in real danger. Not splashed by evil, but overcome by it.

Stormwater is a good picture because it is not clean and controlled. It is ugly. It is forceful. It carries rubbish and muck and things you would never willingly step into. It rushes through places it should not go. That is what sin does to a life. It leaves a mess behind and calls it freedom while it does it.

But grace is different.

Grace is not God standing at a distance and shouting advice to people already going under. Grace is not a self-improvement plan for the morally damp. Grace is rescue. Grace is cleansing. Grace is the kindness of God toward those who cannot clean themselves.

And it is pure.

That may be the loveliest part of the image. Not just water, but sweet pure water. Not the filthy rush of the world and the flesh and the devil, but something altogether clean. Something from above. Something that does not stain but washes. Something that does not drag a soul down but brings it to life.

That is what Christ does.

The blood of Jesus Christ does not merely make sinners look tidier from a distance. It truly cleanses. He does not save us by teaching us to splash about more politely in the same foul torrent. He brings us out. He washes us. He covers us. He gives what we could never find in ourselves, pardon, cleansing and peace with God.

What a mercy that is.

And yet even as Christians we know the struggle. We have been saved, yes, but we still live in a fallen world. The old mud still clings. The old temptations still call. The old torrent still roars nearby. There are days when the filth of sin in the world feels relentless and the weakness in our own hearts feels humiliating. But grace remains purer than sin is filthy. Christ remains stronger than the flood.

That is the hope.

Not that we were once dirty and now manage to keep ourselves sparkling by our own effort. No. Our hope is that the grace of God in Christ is deeper, cleaner and more powerful than all the muck that once covered us. We are not held together by our own goodness. We are held by mercy.

So perhaps that is the thing to remember when sin seems loud and grace seems quiet. The stormwater may rush and rage, but it is not the final water. There is a better covering. There is a cleaner flood. There is grace in Jesus Christ, pure and undeserved and strong enough to wash the vilest sinner clean.

Thank God for that.