46,080 Minutes: Dust

" Then the Lord God formed a man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being." Genesis 2:7

The ground jerked beneath me. I tightened my grip on the bar above me to keep my balance. The scents of trash, sewage, Indian street cuisine, and human body odor all rushed by me as we entered a cloud of dust.

Through the dust, I scanned the many faces around me. I covered my mouth and nose with my shirt and wondered what their lives were like. What pains did they experience? What joys did they remember? What did they strive for?

The bus' horn blared. I grimaced at the assaulting sound. I decided they use horns way too much in India and considered my present situation.

My fellow class mates and I had just finished a weekend of ministry in the heart of Chennai. Now we rode public transportation through the congested veins of this great Indian city. The college remained only an hour away... hopefully.  

Freddy, my friend from the North, stood a few inches in front me. The grind of the bus' gears greeted my ears as Freddy smiled at me. His eyes bore a weariness that we shared. I smiled back.

To my right a baby reached across his mother's shoulder for the stranger behind him. The man smiled and tickled the baby's little hand. The baby's eyes grew wide and an expression of wonder crossed its face.

To my left sat an elderly woman. Her eyes were closed and her nearly toothless mouth open. Her head bobbed loosely as the bus bumped violently along the road.

I could see the beauty of God's creation here in this place in the faces of these people, but in my soul I sighed. So many people surrounded me and I knew that very few understood the truth of their existence. I devoted myself to prayer. That's all I knew to do.

An hour and half later we arrived at the gate of the school. I immediately went to my room and took a shower. My body felt dirty. Chennai boasted streets covered in garbage, dirt, and refuse and I had been walking them throughout the day.

As I scrubbed, I noticed that my ears held a lot of dust and an unexpected thought occurred to me. The thought captivated my mind...

Dust. It seems so meaningless, but it holds a story. How often do we wonder about the complexity of the tale of simple dust?

The dust in my ear has been around since the creation of the world. Over the centuries this dust could have once been a person, a tree, or a dog with a story to tell. But now,  it is only dust.

Dust can have a complex history.

I paused in the shower.

Dust. I am made of dust. Maybe even parts of my physical makeup were once another person. Perhaps, written in the molecules of my atomic structure, are the stories of a thousand different people who have all gone from this world.

I turned the shower off and began drying myself with a towel.

Who are we? We are people made of dust. People who are born, die, yearn, enjoy pleasure, endure pain, suffer hunger, but, ultimately, we are made of dust. Just dust... or... maybe more.

I remembered the truth of Genesis 2.

But each one of us is uncommon. Dust comprises our bodies, but God specifically gathered that dust in His hands to sculpt us. He made us in His very image. God also breathed into us. He gave us souls.

Again, I remember those people on the bus. The baby, the old lady, the stranger, Freddy, and many others I saw today.

Each were composed of a similar substance to the dust that inhabited my ear, but they are worth so much more. Do they realize this?

*****

I'm flabbergasted at how great God is and how great He has created us. But I am saddened that many of God's creations will return to dust without knowing why they breathe.

I believe this thought is what troubled me on the bus today.

In India, in America, and in the entire world people are returning to dust without knowing. . .

Do you know? I hope so. If not, my prayers are for you. God in his great grace has shown me the truth. I hope you see it in my life because I want you to know too. Please, being just dust is meaningless. Don't you think there is something more?

If you do know the truth, do you live in it? It is easy to forget even when we say we never do. We are not just dust, though our story will one day be written in the history of dust.

What will your story be?

Will your story be about your zeal for football (American or Indian)? Will you story be about your desire for newer and fancier things? Will you story be about hopelessness and earthly gain?

Or will your story be written about your love for Christ and, better yet, His love for you?

You get to live your story, but be weary. One day you will leave this earth and return to dust. I hope you know and never forget why you breathe. 

43,200 Minutes: Seasons

God works when I write. I say that as humbly as I can, because He's mostly working in me. It's why my blog has become a type of journal for me.  It's why I choose to post these blogs. God is teaching me new things. These new things are wonderful and I want others to know about them too. So I write and I post. It's a new season for me.

I've been breathing for twenty years now and last night a new thought enter my head. My twentieth year of life has been filled with many seasons. I don't mean seasons like Fall or Spring or garlic. I mean like life seasons.

Eight days after my twentieth birthday, I made the decision to ask Molly Erikson to enter into a relationship with me. All the way from the land of Madagascar, she said yes. So began the first romantic relationship of my life and the first season of my twentieth year.

We made God the center of our whole relationship. He blessed us. He changed us weekly. He blew our minds. I will always remember that season as blessed, but it was also trial filled. We were thousands of miles apart from each other for seven months, but we only grew closer through the trial of distance. In this time God gave me a season of growing love.

At the same time, I began a twenty credit hour semester at Nebraska Christian College. In the midst of my heavy school load, I also did my best to lead the 5th and 6th grade programming at my church, Thanksgiving Lutheran in Bellevue, Nebraska. God gave me success, but I made many mistakes in this season. Time constrained me. I wanted to be perfect, but I couldn't reach that goal. I fell. I stumbled. I stressed. But God showed me that the world did not depend on me. God gave me a season of learning to fail and trust Him.

Then a week before finals I decided to ride a new mountain biking trial and I found a fifteen foot drop-off/jump. I had to try to land it and I did... on my shoulder. I broke my collar bone and I could not move without intense pain for six weeks. So began a season of learning God's love did not depend on my works.

Caution? Psh. Caution is for boys. I'm a man. I'm riding off that cliff! 

A couple months later, thank God I could move my arm again! My beautiful Molly had finally come back to the US. I remember seeing her tear stained, exhausted face as she walked toward me in the airport. Her face glowed with beauty I had never seen before and I got to hug her for the first time. So began one of the best and shortest seasons of my life.

In five short days we found the joy of God in holding hands, experiencing life, and, my personal favorite, praying together. On day one, we went on our first official date. On day two, I asked her to marry me and she said yes. On days three, four, and five we found that we knew so much about each other. On day six, I left for India... So began a season of new engagement, God given love and longing, and a new world.  

I'm still in that season. I would be lying to you if I said that this season is without trial. None of the seasons I have described were without trial. All of them stretched my faith, soul, and heart in some way.

In the present I long to see my fiancé's face again. I crave to eat the food I'm used to. I would love to understand everything that is going on around me. But this is a season.

Though tears fall from my eyes, though my heart hurts, and though I may at times be uncomfortable, I know God will change me. I recognize that, like the seasons before it, I will never regret this season.

My thoughts and emotions feel convoluted right now and it may have bled into my blog, but I'm not worried about it. This blog is always for God, then for me, and then for you in that order. I hope you enjoy, but, if not, that's ok. :)

I don't have a great conclusion for this blog either because this season is not over. But I know one thing: whether I fail or succeed, fall or stand, die or live, God will be glorified in this season. 

Amen. 

38,880 Minutes: In Awe of God

"All else is creation. He alone creates. All else begins. He alone always was. All else depends. He alone is self-sufficient " -John Piper

Water fused with sweat poured down my face and body. A flash of light shot across the evening sky above me. I breathed in. Contrary to the normal dusty, humid smell, the air now owned no particular scent. Maybe it smelled like renewal.

Water exploded in front of me. Twenty Indians splashed through the miniature lake in the middle of the field. They raced to get to a white, sodden ball floating in the middle. One tried to kick the ball but missed, sending him into a slide through the water.

I stood, enjoying every moment. How could I not? The scene echoed of the glory of God. Only God could make my first football game this memorable.

My friend Jesse

Americans call the game soccer, but I don't care what it is called. God has been teaching me about His glory these past few weeks in India. Here, in the steady rain of Asia I can see it while we play football.

The ball plops in a puddle next to me. Rex, one of the teachers, soaking wet, rockets for the ball. I laugh joyously, shaking a congregation of water droplets from my hair.

Just in time, I kick the ball away from our goal and back into the lake that once was the middle of our football field. More explosions of water proceed. The ball flies by me, past our goalie, and a eruption of cheers are raised from the offense.

Having a waterproof phone case comes in handy

Jesse, my friend and goalie, smiles at me and shrugs. Another flash of lightning screams across the sky. Yes, this is a part of God's glory. I say a silent prayer thanking God for the beauty of all He has created. I thank him for the laughing, Indians friends around me. I thank him for the rain. I thank Him for the soaking wet clothes on my back. I thank Him for football. I thank Him for His glory.

I've come to know that God's glory is exceptional. Yeah, perhaps most Christian say they know what God's glory is, but could most be wrong? It that possible? I believe I was wrong. To me, the word "glory" had become just that, a word.

Here's what I learned: no combination of words could be strong enough to describe God's glory. It is too abstract, too immense, and too mystifying for words. Million of authors—Christian and secular alike— attempt to describe the experiences of God's glory in creation, yet none can totally encapsulate it's full beauty.

I could talk about God's glory for hours. I hope you could too. It is for God's glory that we are able to breathe. Your heart, whether you care or not, beats for God's glory. Within every soul on earth is a longing to give glory to God. Why? Written in the glory of God is a promise of salvation and joy that is unknown to man without it.

Jesus came to die for us. He came to bring salvation to all who would believe in him, but he came for an even greater purpose as well. In John 12 Jesus is troubled in his soul. He knows the suffering he will soon endure. In verses 27-28a he says this,

"Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name!...”

Jesus knew the reason he had really come. He had come to show unconditional love to the nations that God may be glorified. That's the epitome of majestic! God answered him in 28b,

"Then a voice came from heaven: 'I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.'”

I want to glorify God like that.

Words aren't enough. I'll live for the glory God. I pray that you see it in my life. I know suffering will come my way, but I know God will glorify Himself in me if I let Him. So whether I'm playing football in India while it pours rain or I'm being carried to my death, I will glorify my God.

All glory be to God forever and forever. Amen. 

30,240 Minutes: Road Crazy

There it sat. A big, green toaster of a van. I thought to myself, "There is no way I'm riding in that thing. I'll probs die..."

I've ridden through the streets of Chennai several times now and it has stressed me out every time. The closeness of the other traffic, the random animals walking here and there, and the speed makes it hard for a foreigner, like me, to enjoy.

The other times I have traveled these roads, I rode with a teacher who I trusted. Additionally we drove a SUV that glided like a dove across the pavement (at least compared to the toaster van pictured above).

I had no choice. After weekend ministry, I had to ride in the toaster van with twelve other students. Needless to say, I didn't enjoy jumping into the back of that oversized toaster. Nevertheless, God chose to show up despite my anxiety. 

I remember a motorcyclist darting by our van as we bumped along a road full of massive pot holes (I'll never complain about Omaha roads again). The smell of sewage and occasional random Indian food swam into our van through the open windows. My nerves itched for me to freak out. But then Freddy, my new Northeastern Indian friend started to sing and I joined in.

We didn't sing well, but we  had a ton of fun, laughing and singing notes that Justin Bieber wouldn't attempt. Soon the whole van joined us in our songs. Even my friend Kevin, who doesn't like to sing, began to sing along.

We sang for an hour as we passed cows, thousands of people, terrible roads, agonizing smells, a few amusement parks, and tons of other cars. The trip could have been terrible, but we chose to sing instead of thinking about the scary noises the van made.

What did we sing? Worship songs to our God. Some in English, some in Tamil, some in Hindi, but all worships songs.

Maybe I'll learn to love those terrible vans. I don't think I'll learn to love the noises they make or the loud drone of their diesel engines or the way they look like they might fall apart. But I might learn to love what happens inside of them, when a bunch of students from different cultures all trust God and worship His name together.

And, Mom.... They're not that dangerous. No need to worry! ;)