Dust to Dust

Right before I moved to Nocona, First Baptist Church bought a little 3-bedroom, 1-bath house adjacent to the church building for possible future expansion. In the subsequent years, we've purchased every other lot/home on the block with the exception of one. The only problem was that 2 houses, a garage, and an apartment building occupied these lots. Our goal was never to use these buildings for anything, so the understanding seemed to be that, at some point, we would tear these buildings down or give them to whoever was willing to move them (no one wanted to do that, BTW). And while we have no immediate plans to build or expand, instead of continuing to put it off (and risk being taxed on the property), the church voted in June to go ahead and send in the wrecking ball.

This past weekend the garage was torn down, and Monday they started on the quaint little yellow brick house. I watched as the excavator leveled it, scooped up the remains, loaded them up, and hauled them off. While I was ready for these buildings to be gone, I got a little sentimental about a house I had very little history with. Someone had to build it and be the first to move in. Surely kids were raised there. I could imagine marks on the door jambs indicating how tall they were getting. Meals were eaten there. Arguments took place. Tender moments were shared. Someone may have even taken their last breath in that house. And now it's gone.

It got me to thinking about the transient nature of our existence. Truth be known, all our endeavors to preserve and restore and protect are all ultimately going to be in vain. Every house will come crashing down. Schools and church buildings and stadiums will fall. Shopping malls and Wal-Marts will crumble. And one day each of us will draw our last breath, be put in the ground, and turn to dust. None of this is going to last.

And so our hope is not in tangible things, but in the renewal and redemption that we will experience as children of God. Romans 8 speaks of how the whole of creation groans to be set free from its corruption and futility. And likewise, we who have been justified groan for the redemption of our bodies. One day this earth will be set right...like it was created to be before the Fall. And one day we will be remade with holy, sinless bodies. Our hope is not found in the frail, passing things of this world. Our hope is in Christ who makes all things new.

All these thoughts inspired me to write:

Dust to Dust

The year was 1926; they built a home on Texas soil
They made it strong with wood and brick, and hope and sweat and pain and toil
It held their hopes, it kept their dreams; it grew their love as years went by
They lived and loved within those walls; there they grew old, and there they died

It’s only time till it’s all gone
None of it was meant to last
Ash to ash, and dust to dust
The frail and broken things will pass away

Was on a Wednesday I was born; they welcomed me with love and fear
Three decades now have come and gone, and Providence has brought me here
I know I’ve got a ways to go until I lay this body down
But I’m closer now that yesterday, and one day they’ll put me in the ground

It was made and then it fell
Broken flesh and broken ground
Its broken voice began to groan, even now
Redemption’s just around the bend
How we long to have a home
Our bodies and creation, too…even now…even now

I watched them as they tore it down – machines and trucks and shattered glass
The little house was turned to dust; those dreams replaced by wind and grass