Entering the Temple of the LORD, I walk to the basin. Glancing at my hand I notice they are covered in black oil, I begin to scrub and scrub, but it doesn't take long to realize that I can't get the oil off. I want to enter the Holy of Holies, dwell with God, but I will never be able to with these hands.
It is then that I notice a young boy walking through the curtains out of the Holy of Holies. He was wearing simple rags, nothing to make him stand out, but I instantly notice his shiny clean hands. I approach him and ask him how he got his hands so clean.
"I was an orphan, now I am a son of God." he replied and walked away.
My mind begins to reel. That was helpful, Not! What is he trying to imply? I'm not an orphan either! I am a son of God too!
Then it hit me. If I truly believed that I am a son of God, then why do I believe I cannot enter His presence with dirty hands. Doesn't the Father accept me into His presence no matter how dirty I have become? Although I knew I was a son, I was reacting as though I was an orphan. As though I was left to myself.
So I slowly enter the Holy of Holies still fearful of my Father would say/do once He saw my dirty hands. I enter looking at my toes.
"I have been waiting for you." the Father says.
It is then that I look up into His eyes and hold my hands out to show Him. I see the hurt flash across His eyes soon followed by loving sympathy.
"Well that will not do, you can't continue to look like an orphan when you are now my son."
"I can't get it off." I say feeling the hopelessness of the situation.
"I sent Jesus so you don't have to."
Jesus walks in like that was His cue. He carried a porcelain pitcher and pours it into a small basin. Then He looks up at me and says "Come."
I walk over to Him and He takes my hands in His. His touch is electrifying and indescribable feelings of warmth pulse through my entire being.
Jesus gently cleans my hands in the basin and to my amazement my hands are easily cleansed.
I was once an orphan. Now I am a son of God.
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