I can’t stop thinking about that one thing I said. It came out sharp—sharper than I meant it—and I saw it land. I apologized, of course. But even days later, I’m still carrying it. Still replaying it. Still frustrated with myself for not being more patient, more gentle, and more together.
Have you ever been there?
That strange ache of knowing better but still falling short. The tightness in your chest when you realize you’ve crossed a line again. You’ve ignored the Spirit’s nudge. You’ve gone silent on someone who needed your voice. You’ve given away your heart, or your body, to someone who didn’t earn it. You’ve chosen control over trust, or resentment over love, or self-preservation over surrender.
And even though you’ve asked for forgiveness, the guilt lingers. The shame sits heavy.
We don’t usually talk about this part of Advent.
We light the candles. We sing “O Holy Night.” We celebrate peace and joy and hope. But Isaiah opens the door to something else—something less sparkly but just as sacred: honest repentance.
“Come, let’s consider your options, says the Lord.
‘Though your sins have stained you like the color red
You can become white like snow…’”
(Isaiah 1:18)
This verse comes in the middle of God calling out Israel’s rebellion. They were deeply entrenched in sin. But instead of turning away, God leans in. He names their crimson stains, not to shame them—but to invite them into transformation. He shows them that no matter how deeply the stain has set, He has the power to wash it white.
Scarlet is not a light mistake. It’s bold. It’s seen. And God sees it. All of it. Not just the action but the motives. The patterns. The self-justifications we wrap around our sin like cozy sweaters. He sees, and still He comes close.
This is the uncomfortable, beautiful truth of Advent. Before we celebrate a Savior born into the world, we must remember why we need saving in the first place. Jesus didn’t come to decorate our lives. He came to deal with what we couldn’t cleanse ourselves. The Word became flesh not just to walk beside us but to wash us.
Whether you’re married and carrying guilt over how you’ve treated your spouse or single and weighed down by choices that haunt you or words you can’t unsay, this invitation is for you. Whether your shame is loud or silent, whether your regret is recent or buried under years, He sees it. And still, He says, “Come now.”
This is the gospel at Christmas. God saw the stain, and He still sent His Son. He doesn’t meet us with condemnation but with an invitation. He calls scarlet scarlet, and He still says that it’s still possible to be made white as snow.
Come now. Not when you feel better. Not when you’ve done better. Now.
Bring your sin, your shame, your silence, and your secrets. There’s room for it all in His mercy.
Even this can be washed clean.
