God in the Dust

I have always struggled with the certainty others profess. I often hear it come through the loudest in times of prosperity or happiness but then also in the clinging during desperation; the symbol of hope. Both make sense on a psychological level; the “blessed” and the “broken.” Faith finds a solid footing there.

But I look for the prevailing winds of faith in my daily life. I ask almost everyday, “Who are You? From where do I come? Why me?” The questions deep in places not made of bone or marrow. The stillness brings a constant flow of the blending of this existential tug of war. I have often felt guilty for this struggle due to growing up in a pastor’s home. It was our job, culture and faith. I was literally in it ALL the time. So why does my soul still search? Am I broken? Do I have a fatal flaw that separates me from the true believers? Am I defined by my doubt or is what I feel actually faith in practice? Is this god they speak of, one that has raged, destroyed, punished, loved, forgiven and created see me as Beloved?

I struggle with it. All of it.

The disappearing sand of life.

The ache of our existence.

The pull of meaning.

The draw of belonging.

The faltering shadow, labeled “love”, that fails us time and time again when delivered by human hands.

So the greater Being we are called to trust in remains a mystery.

My soul, on a never ending journey of finding who my Father is, calling out in the woods and fields, asking for Them to show themselves more.

But as the human voices rise, giving direction where to find spiritual safety, as scripture verses that I’ve seen my whole life pop up, they remain words that may comfort but still fall short in bringing what my soul searches for. Too many strings are attached and context given to fit agenda.

They lack the untouched essence; the wellspring.

— — — — — — —

In the dark hours of night, I often think of my children. I explore my love for them and where I may fall short. Last night, I wrote them a letter and placed in their bedroom to find when they woke. I tried to tell them how deeply I love them, who they are to me and how my love covers any failure or perceived wrong they commit. I write as I desire my Father, the great Mystery, to write to me.

I felt a small hand touch me this am. Selah slid in to bed and buried her face into my chest. “Good morning little love.” She was quiet and then begin to softly cry. I asked her what was wrong and she said she didn’t know, that she couldn’t explain. In that moment, I knew because I feel that often. Her desire is like mine. She read my words that said, “You are enough! All of you! Whether it be success or failure, my love is without end.” At 10, she probably can’t understand but her heart did because that is all of our core desire . . . to be loved without condition or exception. We can’t hear it enough! So I lay there and let her cry hoping my soul was speaking to hers. You are enough-

— — — — — — —

As they left for school this morning, I went to work fixing my ceiling in the basement. I was covered in dust and sweat. My mind was back again on who the Creator is and this journey I find myself. Tears mixed with drywall dust as I FELT the same words I wrote to my daughter . . . you are enough!

So I share that today if you find yourself frustrated/sad/anxious with the questions that surround. I’m with you. I don’t profess to know all the answers. I struggle. I’ve heard the whispers of my supposed loss of faith. They can be deafening. But it has never been lost. I continue to seek, trying to find the footsteps of the Being called Love that is above this confusing contradiction called life. Don’t grow numb to the mystery and seeking.

To be fully loved just as we are. I felt that this morning. I hope you feel that too.



I create space and experience…. and write a bit.

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