The Pleasant Taste Of Dust

The Bible tells us that God uses all things for the good of those who believe in him, I believe that with all my heart. Most of the time I find myself holding on to that notion like Linus clings to his blanket in the Peanuts cartoons. I've come to realize that the good that is mentioned in that passage is the conforming of our sinful identity into the image of Christ. All of these trials we face are meant to transform us in the spirit into that very transcendent person who bought our redemption so long ago. And in the midst of these troubling experiences is a choice; a core decision with eternal implications. All that being said, it doesn't really make any of these experiences easier to go through. I don't really think Job spent his time looking for a silver lining to his boils or his destroyed home and family. So here is where we all sit. Here in the midst of this burning earth and the broken pottery shards while the best of human reasoning blows around us like a storm of dust clouding our eyes. We know the questions we ask "What is God saying?", "Did I do something wrong?", "Has he forgotten?". I can't answer any of those, nor can anybody else for that matter. They aren't bad question either, and don't let anybody tell you any different. These are the thoughts of those who relate to God, those who know him face to face. The truth is that we are pilgrims passing through the veil of this world, living in two places at once. For us, peace and suffering hold hands while they walk down the street. Each spurring the other forward to new depths and testing the new richness of each experience.

"Two paths diverged in a wood; I took the one less traveled, and it made all the difference."

"For the gate is narrow, and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few."

"There will be an answer. Let it be."

Morning Thoughts

My bag of tricks is small and dusty, worn thin and stretched by use. But it's all I've got, so I keep reaching in trying to stir some glorious thing out of the dust, and occasionally it works. So I keep reaching in and getting my fingers dirty hoping for something interesting to appear in my hands. Sometimes I pull out nothing but dirt, and the wind scatters it from my hands.

More chaff gone out into the wind.

But gone isn't gone, my bag still holds dust, and my fingers are still dirty. But life is funny like that I guess. Outside of the eternal perspective it's hard to see that eternity lies behind a thin veil. A thin dusty veil that is.