Dirty Clothes Off, Clean Robe On

Let me show you something Zechariah saw, though not with his everyday eyes. God opened a window inside him, and through that window he saw a room you and I cannot walk into. A holy room. The throne room of heaven.

And standing there was a man named Joshua. He was a priest, and do you remember the small new temple, the little house God promised to fill with glory? Joshua stood in front of God for the very people building it. That was his whole job: to stand before God for the people, to carry their sorries, to bring their hopes close to God's heart.

But oh. Look at him.

His clothes were filthy. Stained and crusted and dark, the kind of dirty that does not wash out. Mud and worse. He stood there small and ashamed, and he could not lift his eyes.

Have you ever felt too dirty to stand up front? Too messy to be the one chosen? That was Joshua. He knew it. And he was sure everyone could see it.

Someone else was there too. An accuser. The Bible calls him Satan, and his work is pointing fingers. He stood right at Joshua's side, and you can almost hear the hiss of him.

Look how dirty he is. Send him away. He does not belong here.

And the terrible part was that every word was true. Joshua really was that dirty.

God did not argue with him. God turned to the accuser and spoke, low and strong. The Lord rebuke you, he said. Hush now. This one is mine. I reached into the fire and pulled him out, and I will not let him burn.

And the accuser had nothing to say. Not one word.

Then God looked at the shining ones standing near. And his voice went warm, the way a father's voice goes when he has decided something good.

Take the dirty clothes off him.

And they did. All of it. The stains, the mud, the shame, lifted right off his shoulders and carried far away. See, God said. I have taken your sin off of you. Gone.

Then they brought new clothes, clean and bright, a robe so white it seemed to glow with its own light. They wrapped Joshua up in it and set a fresh clean turban on his head. The man who could not lift his eyes one moment ago now stood dressed like the most welcome guest in all of heaven.

And God made him a promise. I am sending my servant, he said. The Branch. He is coming, and in a single day he will take all of this dirtiness away.

Joshua did not know that servant's name yet.

But you do.

Because there came another day, and another One stood in front of God for all of us. Only this time he gathered up our filthy clothes onto his own shoulders and carried them down into the dark. And he turned and held out his own robe, clean and shining, and pulled it over us to wear forever.

The accuser still hisses sometimes. He still points. But you do not have to answer him. The Branch already came, walking toward us with arms open and a clean robe over them. And folded inside it, where your heart goes, he had written your name.