Out of Dirt

Many today ask for a blessing or the favor of God. It is true that God can pour out blessing. I can say, that only because of you, God, could our land yield a bountiful harvest. Only because of you could our politicians bring honor to your name. Only because of you will righteousness be evidenced among the people of our land or of our time. Where you go God, righteousness goes before you. Oh that you would let submission to you God be among the things said of Albertans, and Canadians. That is an almost laughable plea in the face of the current reality. Can this group of untamed, wretched, self-indulgent people humble themselves before you my God? I fear only with tragedy and great defeat. They look at you with disgust and mockery. Even those who claim to love you live adulterously! Loving so many gods that it can no longer be said that they truly love your great name. Sitting in the lap of luxury has allowed this people to become like a spoiled and bratty child. Focused only on their own desire, their own craving. They are always scratching every itch, and feeding every hunger. For what? For pleasure? Have we lost our mind? Have we all forgotten that the desire of our existence - the pleasure we long for, is only found in God? 

We're so foolish, so easily duped by the simplest of lies. "If you eat this, then you will be happy, then you will get what you want." Except we have always had what we really want. Our greatest longing has always been relationship with the one who formed us. Still we chase after the dirt He used as the object of our affection; the source of our delight. As though it held the power to make anything at all. I'm guilty my God, for chasing after dirt. I'm no better than the rest of the batch, in fact, my tendency to judge makes me worse than all of them. My true flawed response birthed in my own accepted thought. Fool! So I submit myself again to the one who works the dirt into beauty, into form, and into purpose.  I simply cannot do it without you, no more than the plant can lift itself up from the dirt, dig a new hole, and grow in a new place. I submit myself to the you God, the gardener. I need you God to rework me, to reform me, again, into the image you intend for me.