Give Us Clean Hands

I stand at the ready holding gown and gloves, packaged just so, and to be held just a certain way to be taken from me, and I watch as the surgeon's skilled hands scrub, and scrub, and scrub...There are brushes, and soaps, and a nail cleaner, and sponges impregnated with bacteria killing suds and bubbles.  I begin to hum... 

 "Give us clean hands, 

and give us pure hearts, 

Let us not raise our souls to another

Oh, Give us clean hands, 

and give us pure hearts 

let us not raise our souls to another

Oh, God let us be a generation that seeks

Who seeks Your face, Oh God of Jacob."

He looks up from his washing and smiles my direction, we have done this together so many times before.  He begins to sing along as he finishes with the final rinsing and waits for me to pull the tabs back on the package exposing the sterile towels inside.  As he preps we talk I share how I am struck with the song and the scrubbing, how we must first be cleansed before God can greatly use us, we must be washed in the blood, white, pure, without spot or blemish or germs.  Then we can be used for Him in the service He has called us to- just as in a few short moments those scrubbed hands, clean and pure will begin to dance about as in a ballet with an opening and closing curtain to mend the tiny body beneath the folds of blue drape.  Skilled hands, cleansed for service, scrubbed clean, ready, and willing to be used.