Growing up, I was never afraid of getting dirty. Even if I didn't always recognize it or even always like it, I was learning that all things are built and grown from dirt.
Whether it was corn growing out of the dirt of the fields surrounding my community, or a house I was helping construct upward from a basement dug out of the dirt, I was always discovering that dirt comes first. Somewhere along the way, I lost sight of that lesson. Or at least failed to apply it in ways that could have helped me discover that God was trying to build some things in me that I was refusing him the chance to build. Because somewhere along the way, I started running from the dirt in life. Specifically, the dirt in MY life. I started running from the traumas in my life. I started running from the hurtful and destructive decisions I was making in my life. I started running from the habits and hang-ups that were controlling my life. I started running from relationships and vulnerabilities and responsibilities. I started running from pain. Somewhere along the way, I lost the chance to understand that if miles and miles of fields of corn can sprout from the dirt, and entire neighborhoods can spring forth from the dirt, how much more could spring forth from the dirt in my life? I've spent the last six years digging in the dirt of my life. No more putting gloves on to make sure my hands stay clean, or, to make sure no one else ever sees the dirt on my hands or face or clothes or life. The last six years have been working toward: here I am, dirt and all. And in doing that, something remarkable has been happening. A new me is emerging from the dirt. I've grown more in the last six years than I did in all the decades preceding this period. Maybe God needed all those years to tend to the soil of my life to grow what he wanted to grow out of my life. Or, and I think this is more likely, God has waited patiently for me to realize the dirt I didn't run from in the fields of my childhood was supposed to help me trust that something can be grown from the dirt of my adulthood. Somewhere along the way, I started believing that corn simply appears like a rabbit out of a hat without having to break through dirt. Somewhere along the way I started demanding that God give me more corn and less dirt. But these last six years, God has been good to take me back to the dirt. He's made me less fearful of it. God has given me friends who've made me feel safe enough to say, this is me and my dirt. He's given me you all to write to and feel safe enough to say, this is me and my dirt. He's given me groups of people to talk to and to teach to and to say, we all have dirt, what can we grow from it? Steven Furtick says, "I read about a God who promised me a land with fruit in it, but I also have a God who put fruit inside of me." Sometimes we can get so committed to escaping to the promised land that we lose sight of the fruit buried somewhere in the dirt of our own hearts and minds and spirits. Digging in the dirt of our life isn't always easy. Dirt is, well, dirty. But nearly every good thing in this life springs forth from the dirt. God himself got down on his knees, in the dirt, totally unafraid of what people might think of this God with a little dirt on his knees, and he created the first human from that very dirt. Maybe it's time to stop running from the dirt in your life and start digging in it. Maybe it's time to consider God is done working the dirt of your life, he's now ready to grow the fruit from it that was supposed to grow from that dirt all along. No matter what your dirt is, my life has taught me it's never too dirty, it's never too late, it's never too impossible. It's never too impossible to experience the possibilities you've come to believe are buried beneath too much dirt to ever grow into reality. Maybe it will require a little extra time in the dirt, but the digging is worth it. You will be forever grateful for the fruit you grow from there.
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Robert "Keith" CartwrightI am a friend of God, a dad, a runner who never wins, but is always searching for beauty in the race. Archives
November 2024
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