Nearly one year ago, God gave me a vision. It was a vision of a young Asian girl kneeling down, digging her hands deep into the dry ground, to retrieve two hand fulls of dust. With all her might she clenched that dirt within her two frail fists. Clinging to it, she grasped it tightly, desperately working with all the strength she could mutter up to give it life, to give it value. Then I felt God speak to me so clearly, “Dust returns to dust, but My Love endures forever.” And in that moment, her weary broken hands let go. Let go of the dust she held to close. Let go of the pain of not being good enough. Let go of the shame of inadequacy. Let go.
I know now that it is not just my Asian friends who must face the choice of clutching their lives in their hands or choosing to let go. Recently I was brought again to a vision not so different than that of the girl and the dust. God came to me in a dream, speaking sweet words of truth and destiny that, because of my brokenness, I refused to believe. Still, He was not ready to give up. Just as I claimed that I was too broken to have beauty, He held out to me the very broken pieces of my life that I spoke of. Every last one. I was too ashamed to even look.

But God, He had a plan. A plan I did not know of until the very moment when He began to reveal it to me. A beautiful, wonderful, yet painful and terrifying plan. He would take each piece, and upon the rock which He placed as a table, He would pound each piece until each were fine as dust. So, though not without request, as a gentleman does, He began His work. Still, it was not easy. Every strike, every hit, pierced to my heart and brought back pain I had hoped to forget. But when He was finished, everything was calm, silent. And He held out to me in the very palm of His hands…dust. As He placed that dust back into my hands, He asked me just one simple question, “Child, can you trust?.” He gave me the choice, as He gives us all. Do I clutch that dust in my fists? Do I try with all I have to make it into something more than just a pile of dust? Or do I give it to the author and perfecter of my faith? Not knowing what He will do, not knowing what will become of my little two handfuls of dust, yet still, do I give it back?

(The answer is yes ;)) For who could have known that as I gave that dust, my very life, right back to Him, He could turn it into something beautiful. Yes even my mess! See, He poured on my dry and parched life, His life giving water. And with the clay of my life, He made me into something beautiful.

Everyday, I face this choice. Do I hold onto the dreams and desires that make up my life, though sometimes righteous and good, or do I see them for what they really are when compared to all that He is. Dust. Dirt. Rubbish. Though dust returns to dust, His love endures forever. Alone, my life is just a pile of dust, but with Him, because of His great love, it can be something beautiful. Something as beautiful as being a part of more than 30 people joining the family of God. Or, revealing to friends that grace is at the center of our fathers heart and seeing their perspective of God altered in a moment. Or, standing in a room full of family members witnessing more than seven brothers and sisters get dunked and calling down the HS to fill their hearts. That is something beautiful. That is what God can make out of our dust, out of our lives.