On the surface, it is coarse and hot where the sun beats down upon it. Disturb it enough with your fingertips for refreshing coolness and a distinct odor that is familiar and satisfying. Touching it, for even a moment, will stain your skin with its minerals. When it is dry and dull, the smallest breeze can lift it into the air, and when wet, it melds together like a buttered, warm slice of bread.
If you’ve spent any time tending to a garden, gallivanting through the forest or moving dirt for any number of reasons, you already know I’m referring to the earth. It’s our home — for now — and has been in existence a lot longer than we have. We were created from its dust, and to its dust our flesh will return. Our temporary home gives us sustenance, healing and peace.
God is not thoughtless. He literally spoke all of creation into existence, except for man. Man he formed from the dust of the ground and breathed the breath of life into his nostrils. In the moments of quiet stillness, I ponder this change. Why did he not speak us into existence like everything else?
I believe this is because he wanted us to be absolutely perfect in His image.
I would like to parallel this thought with the idea that when we ask someone to do something for us, we are giving up the task to their idea of perfection or completion. However, when we choose to do a specific task ourselves, with our own hands, we take great pride in the outcome of that something. God took great care and great pride in creating each one of us. He gave us charge over the Garden of Eden to work it and watch over it; a desire to work and watch over the land and over creation. No wonder we love — no, we need — the outdoors.
No wonder there is solace in resting your head on the earth and gazing up at the stars in the quiet stillness of night. No wonder we find healing in being grounded and want to satiate our innate desire to nurture nature. It’s part of our design, part of our flesh.
It is this idea that has led my heart, body and mind to utterly desire intentionality toward my children and their knowledge of God’s creation.
1 Corinthians 3:6-7 (HCSB): “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth.”
This past spring I had my youngest kids — Baylee, 3, and Colin, 2 — help plant gladiolus bulbs around our home. I explained the need for nutrients from the dirt and sun and our responsibility to provide them with water. “But only God can make them grow.” I must have repeated myself at least five times with every bulb we planted.
Every single day, my kids call out to me from around the house, “Mama, Look how much they’ve grown.”
“Our plants are getting so tall,” and I match their excitement with great joy and pride in my heart.
Reminding them once again that, “God made them grow. Let’s tell Him thank you. Thank you, God, for making our plants grow. We love you and we love our plants.”
How much joy and pride must God have in watching us grow to be more like Him? Sanctification is hard; becoming pure and free of sin by denying the flesh takes intentionality. How proud our Creator must be when we do. From dust we were created and to dust we shall return. Make the tough choice to reject the flesh. Make God proud and tell him “thank you,” even when it is hard.
This column may include both fiction and nonfiction, and views expressed do not necessarily represent those of The SUN. Submissions can be sent to editor@pagosasun.com.
