You are dust and to dust you shall return.
It seems a bizarre and far-off prospect, that day when this body I know so well will be like the dust on which I now walk. And yet I believe those words above go beyond the physical—and when they are interpreted as spiritual, they become an in-the-moment reality.
We are called to return to dust today, for unless a grain of wheat falls to ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit.
It is death of self. It may mean simply wiping clean a sticky spot on the floor, or coming when the six-year-old calls. It may be more difficult, like shutting down the computer before you’re pulled into a sinful habit, or placing a hundred dollars into the collection basket. Every moment we choose to die is a moment when a new fruit comes into existence and is fixed into history—not only your personal history, but the universal history too. Souls pulled from darkness by the love discovered in your eyes, your hands, your words. Beautiful things can come from dust. It must be why, way back in Eden, God looked at the dust beneath his feet and thought, Ah, now from this I shall bring into being my greatest creation. And man was born.
Every moment you choose to die—and in doing so bear fruit—you are sharing in God’s creative power. And how great it is indeed.
