Seventy-Third Step - Being Dirt

Realize I'm not God. I'm dust. But, wait, God became dust. I have been thinking about how God's Word was "written in dust" at Christmas, and how He was here on earth for a time, and then was gone (for a time). Like writing in the dirt--He didn't come with fanfare, didn't keep scrolls on his miracles, just came into a body and that was the writing. Yes, if that sounds like Miss Voskamp's inspiration, you are right. This post has been on my mind.

Jesus wrote in the dirt

Words not on stone

But back to dust

While others wanted blood

He inscribed words for a moment

Until winds blew the breath out of them

His hand lingered over the ground

While stone-cold weapons were found

Were they names? Did he call them out?

Would they ever seek Him once they saw

A portrait of their sin?

His words became dirt

As He had become dirt

In a belly, in a stall

The Word scratched in the dust

The Word etched on every face

Turned down in hatred

Then upturned in surprise

And ultimately, shame in their eyes