Dust and Spirit

DUST

There is nothing about decibels, sound frequencies,
or even the unique combining of vowels and consonants
that accounts for the response within me to worship music.

I can admire the well turned phrase of a secular writer.
I can enjoy and be moved
by the intricacies of a classical orchestra.

But it does not draw from me
the same involuntary response
that results from participating in a worship service.

What is it within me that causes that inexplicable reaction?

__________________________

And the Lord God formed man
of the dust of the ground
and breathed into his nostrils
the breath of life; and man became a living being...

Dust.

Spirit.

Dust and spirit.
After simplifying things substantially,
that's basically all that I am.

So if I allow the Spirit to be the spirit
all that is left for me to deal with is the dust.

I have noticed from time to time
what can happen if dust is allowed
to think too highly of itself.

Two things can happen:
One is that the dust begins to take on a form of its own.
It no longer only shadows the form of the original object
but it can begin to lay a little thicker here
and be blown away a bit more there
so that the attributes of the original object
are no longer clear.
In an advanced state
the dust could completely obscure the primary object.

The other possibility is that the dust
can become so thick
that the personality of the object cannot shine through.

I have no problem being the dust.
Of the two choices - dust and spirit -
there's no doubt that I'm more suited to being the dust,
especially considering who is up for the part of the spirit.
But I know what this part calls for -
only the finest covering of dust.
Just enough to allow the Spirit to be visible
to those who can not yet perceive him
in his pure spirit form
but never enough to obscure or taint
any of the qualities of the Spirit.

And so, I have the hands to raise or clap,
the legs to stand, the voice to sing - that's the dust.

But that deep response that calls out
in worship to the Father with an intensity that I can't comprehend,
and a familiarity that I would never presume to have -
that's the Spirit.

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