Stained.

I read an email from a friend today, and I'm sure she won't mind me sharing, but in it was written one of the most beautiful sentences I think I've ever read;

...and [some] days I am so full of His love and presence, it overflows and stains everything I do and think with his grace and holiness...

I don't get many days like that.

But I desire that so much.

So much.

That the love and presence of God would fill me so full, I would be unable to contain it!! It would overflow and soak everything around me.

That His love and presence might stain all that I do and say and think.

Stain.

Not stain as in to tarnish or soil or dirty. No, a stain from God is different.

To be stained by God is to be marked with an indelible marker. This mark is a seal, an imprint.

Oh how I wish my God would stain me. Ruin me for anything or anyone else but Him.

Put His mark all over me to show that I am His, and He is mine.

And then I remember, He has already done this. I have already been purchased. The ransom has already been paid.

A cross.

Three nails.

The spotless lamb, crowned with thorns and mocked as He sacrificed himself.

The King.

Christ's blood stains me. It stains me, and marks me as His.

This stain cleanses me.

And now I can stand before the King, one of His.

A child.

A friend.

A servant.

I am stained.

I am pure.

I am free.