Confessions of Dust: Messy, Beautiful, Beloved
From the series Confessions of Dust part 3

I am an effusive, impulsive, reckless creature — much like my little Shih Tzu Louie V, prone to self-sabotage. I am basically a wrecking ball of skin and gray matter, wrapped in a beefy donut of fitness that occasionally smiles. I sit around and ponder eternity, writing it out for you, my friends, so we can share the view. I get tired of the little things; they wear on me like the endless drip of a leaky faucet. I want to do everything and nothing all at the same time.
I cannot stand my brain. If it’s cloudy, it tells me to mope. If it’s sunny, it tells me to hide. I grow weary of the endless cycle. When will it ever be good? When will life shift from demolition derby to genuine experience? I’ve been here for forty-five years and still the questions remain.
Sometimes I smoke to numb the ache, to spark creativity, to escape. But even here I know the deeper truth: He is enough for me. Always. Even when I fail, He has not left. The real challenge is not to quit by my own strength, but to approach Him with gratitude — gratitude that He loves me even when I stumble.
So often I set expectations for myself that I confuse with His will. I drive myself like a brutal taskmaster, and when I fail, I flog my soul and call it righteousness. In doing so, I mistake God for merciless judgment and malign Him with my lack of self-compassion.
And yet — He loves me anyway. He loves you the same. His forgiveness is total, not partial. His compassion is not rationed. Sometimes what we call sin is really only misunderstanding, our lack of clarity in how grace works.
I am convinced that as long as smoking does not master me, I can still walk in His grace. What matters is that in all things — even in weakness — I reflect Him, and hold my light high so that others may see His.
I shared this with you all so you could see the smudges on the windows of my Temple, the dust beneath the pews, and the clutter I’ve let cloud the nave. It is important to me, for you my friends, to know what a walk with God looks like and what it does not. It is messy, it is littered with failure, and it is beautiful. Think of a toddler, constantly getting into something they shouldn’t — we do not instantly expect them to know better. We are patient and kind. He is a thousand times more gentle and caring than we could ever comprehend. But never mistake His grace and kindness for weakness.