October 27, Evening
C. H. Spurgeon · Modern retelling
"We are all as an unclean thing." — Isaiah 64:6 · KJV
The believer is a new creature; he belongs to a holy generation and a peculiar people; the Spirit of God is in him, and in all respects he is far removed from the natural man. Yet for all that, the Christian is a sinner still. He is so from the imperfection of his nature, and will remain so to the end of his earthly life. The black fingers of sin leave smudges on our fairest robes. Sin mars our repentance before the great Potter has finished it on the wheel; selfishness defiles our tears, and unbelief tampers with our faith. The best thing we ever did, apart from the merit of Jesus, only swelled the number of our sins; for when we have been purest in our own sight, yet, like the heavens, we are not pure in God's sight; and as He charged His angels with folly, much more must He charge us with it, even in our most angelic frames of mind. The song that thrills toward heaven and seeks to rival the seraphs' strains has human discords in it. The prayer that moves the arm of God is still a bruised and battered prayer, and moves that arm only because the sinless One, the great Mediator, has stepped in to take away the sin of our supplication. The most golden faith, or the purest degree of sanctification a Christian ever reached on earth, has still so much alloy in it as to be worthy only of the flames, considered in itself. Every night we look in the glass, we see a sinner, and have need to confess, "We are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags." Oh, how precious the blood of Christ to hearts like ours! How priceless a gift is His perfect righteousness! And how bright the hope of perfect holiness hereafter! Even now, though sin dwells in us, its power is broken; it has no dominion; it is a broken-backed snake. We are in bitter conflict with it, but it is a vanquished foe we have to deal with. Yet a little while, and we shall enter victoriously into the city where nothing defiles.