“Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.” Isaiah 1:8

Snow has always fascinated me. Probably because I have lived in Georgia for the greater part of my life, and interaction with that magical phenomenon was excluded to trips to Colorado, or the accidental flurries that the sky above my town deigned to release. When I realized our squad would be in Romania for the winter, my mind instantly flew to fantasies of icicles hanging from ledges, piles of white froth on the sidewalks, houses that look like they’ve been iced with sugar, and heavy flakes that fell supernaturally from the sky. I was disappointed, because while the weather was chilly and the sky was grey, the snow had been stubbornly absent from Craiova. That is, until yesterday night, when the sky finally broke it’s frown and flurries fell from heaven. When we woke up the next morning, there was only a thin, unimpressive layer, but I was ecstatic all the same. Snow. 

Snow reminds me of salvation, how Jesus covers our insufficiencies and weaknesses, and problematic sinfulness with His grace. It falls so gently upon the waiting world, it discriminates not on which it will cover. Over our crimson stains of deceit and adultery, gluttony and pride, cruelty and selfishness, falls the fantastic miracle of mercy, brilliant, clean, and white. 

My time in Romania closes along with the year of 2021, and I look back over the mistakes I’ve made with a twinge pity for my old self. Did I fully realize that those regrets would be covered in layer after layer of gentle grace? Why didn’t I give grace to myself, when it was so freely given to me? What I’ve learned in Romania is incredibly simple, something I’ve known all along but have never pictured as a part of my life. Love covers a multitude of sins (1 Peter 4:7). The grey slush that is shoved to the edges of our brain- covered. The arrogance that we fight so hard to retain- covered. The complacency that lies limply like dead leaves- covered. All the dirt, all the muck, all the graffiti-splattered concrete- covered irretrievably by grace that does not melt or fade over time. 

The pitiful snowfall of Craiova is long gone now, seeped into the damp earth of the parks, or shoved to the side of the highway in grey sludge. I’m not disappointed, because even more fantastic is the miracle I get to experience daily, that I actually get to tell others about. Thank you, Lord, for being so faithful.