As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust.

Sometimes I forget that I am dust.  I meander through my days, not paying much attention to the thousands of little decisions I make as I live my life: decisions that either draw me closer to God, or further away from Him.  And then suddenly I look at something I’ve done, and I see the utter depravity of my character, and I am appalled at myself.  And I wonder how I got there.  I’ve wandered along thinking that I was okay – better than okay.  Close to God.  Loving Him.  Pleasing Him.  And then it all comes tumbling down around my ears, and I see myself the way I really am: minus the pretty facades I’ve erected.  And I wince, knowing that even now, I’m only seeing a fraction of what God sees, and knowing that if I saw it all, I would be crushed under the weight of my sin. 

But I’m glad: it’s good to remember that I am dust.  And that God loves me and is pleased with me despite my dustiness.  The irony is me thinking that it is my actions that please God, when really it is not about anything I do or don’t do.  God sees me through the mantle of Christ’s sacrifice, through the curtain of Christ’s atonement.  But it is good for me to see a glimpse of myself, if only to forestall any self-congratulatory feelings I might be developing.   I find it interesting that I do not feel the self-loathing I would normally feel under these circumstances; nor do I hear the refrain “Stupid, stupid, stupid” that often echoes through my mind.  I can let go of that, and be resigned to my human frailties.

I remember that I am dust, and that God loves me.  I am so grateful.