I hadn’t seen my neighbor Libby for three months due to Covid-19. She and I were catching up, and she gushed over her single biggest victory since isolating: cleaning her basement. “You know what a mess it was,” she confided, vividly describing how each day she descended into the catacombs to toss and sort. I hung onto every word, contrite. My basement’s worse. “That isn’t even the best part,” Libby added, recounting how she’d found 1-800-GOT-JUNK to come and haul her stuff away. “It’s a miracle,” she said. And I believed.
Another miracle is described in John 3. Only this time, Jesus arrives to tackle cluttered, concealed, basement-level messes in our hearts. God descends into our sullied, stained lives to clean us up and restore us. Each day he actively goes to work. We just have to invite him in. Do we deserve this? No. But he power-washes anyway. A cleansing miracle of love.
Lord, you came down so that we could be cleansed and lifted up. There is no greater miracle. AMEN.