The ground the Lord has claimed for Zehandi is purely sand. Outside of that, too - every path we walk on, everywhere we go, from the well, to Senga Bay, down in the dried out gorge to the lip of the lake – everything that we lay our feet on is sand. Sand, one of my least favorite substances in the world. Sand, which gets in everything and never ever comes out again. My tent (if you can imagine my bedroom and my corner of the cabin at camp, you’ll have a marvelous idea of how my tent looks on the inside – an absolute disaster) has enough sand inside of it to build a sandcastle, I promise you. I wake up every morning covered in sand, and I don’t even know how it all gets inside. It’s one of the many conundrums of my life.

All the same – the Lord has brought life to a land where things should never grow. Corn, grass, plants, trees of all kinds- the restoring Hand of a mighty God has come down to bless the grounds of Zehandi, and that’s the only explanation for the life that is rooted here.

I was sitting here, trying to think of a blog, desperately. Here was the thought process of this. 1. Panic because I don’t know what to write. 2. Panic even more because my laptop is dying 3. Ask everyone if they have any words of wisdom or inspiration. 4. That fails, message Yungcah that I have no ideas and I can’t write a blog better than my last one. 5. Question the entire future of my life as a journalist because I can’t think of a 500 word blog. 6. Yungcah says “write what God’s put on your heart.” 7. Feel relieved, Yungcah is always right, it will be ok. 8. Get an idea.

Like the sand that I tread upon every day, I, as a human being incapable of perfection, am dust. The father of all people, Adam, was formed by the Lord from the dirt of the ground, as was I. I hold no value, no worth, I’m no good for anything to take root or grow in, no good for anything but to be trampled on by men. I wake up every morning and forget to praise the God of my youth, I try so hard to offer an unending song to the Lord and I choke on my tongue, I pray for Him to take my voice and my words and then I go and dishonor Him with the gifts that He’s given me. I believe that I’m entitled to many things that I’m not, especially as an American teenager. I constantly fall, constantly fail, and constantly sin – it’s a vicious cycle of devastation and heartbreak.

But here’s the thing. That’s not what I am. It’s what I look like, sure – a pathetic, dirty human being who comes on her knees before the Maker of Heaven with nothing but a broken song in her hands, a broken song that was made from what the Lord had given her in the first place. But, in the Name of Jesus Christ, that’s not what I am. Like the sandy ground of the place I call home now, never meant to bear fruit, and yet it does – I’ve been redeemed by the Lord. Bought for a price. Washed by innocent blood that allows something inside my heart to support life. I may look like I’m a useless piece of dust, but, deep inside me, underneath what I look like – the Lord has put something there. He’s given me life, His authority, His love, His compassion, His discipline, His truth. He’s made me beautiful, and made me new.

When Johan walked onto the land all those years ago – it was barren, deserted, desert. There was no trace of life, and the land was given to him for cheap because no one desired to have it. But Johan smiled to himself, and knew something the people didn’t know – and that was Jesus. And now, because of his love, not only do native plants grow there, but his crops and children, too.

When the Lord first found me, I was a barren ground, incapable of growing anything, incapable of beauty, incapable of saving myself, let alone helping others. But when the Lord found me, He stood there, and I’m sure He smiled to Himself, because He knew something I didn’t know yet – His son Jesus, who died to water my death-filled ground and bring it life. And now, because of His love – well, yall know the rest ;)

He makes beautiful things out of dust.