what am i?

we are not even worthy to be crushed beneath His feet but He walked the earth and left us as a footprint, an image of Himself. this was the genesis of our race, from dust but for a glorious purpose.

what am i to deny Him the glory He deserves? yet i turn again and again away from the King that gave me life. what am i to hope for anything beyond punishment for my fallen state?

what am i that God would create a glorious paradox for me? that on the cross, justice would meet mercy? what am i that when You rose from the grave it was my name on Your lips? You said those 30+ years were worth it if just i believe. You said it was worth it for me.

what am i to be "hidden in Christ" as though sin were nothing more than the villain in a giant game of hide and seek and i already safe in a heavenly peace that conceals me from view?

what am i that i am set apart to be raised up in the twinkling of an eye at the last trumpet sound? my flesh will finally die and i will be raised up to what is imperishable.

paradise was lost but it will be regained when even the lost bow a knee before our returning king. what am i to get to look forward to witnessing that? what am i that the God who created the rock that would travel the world and end up at a factory which makes it into plastic that becomes the pen i write with, what am i that that God would notice me? the God that created the stars and commanded them seven years ago to send out light to illuminate the sky on a wonderfilled night in Kansas so that a girl would look up and see His love for her, what am i that that God would choose me, love me, save me?

what am i to question God? yet even David, the man after God's own heart, wrote out laments, wrote out prayers, wrote out his desperate questions in the dark. we are allowed to express our doubt to Him, loudly we can question where He is and why He won't take away the pain. what are we to be allowed to do that without getting struck down immediately? but He still gives grace and leans down in the middle of a storm to whisper replies to our shouts.

holiness strikes fear so deep we would never run to our Maker but He ran His race for us, throwing aside the sin that entangles us He nailed our separation from God to the cross and across the world His last words, "It is finished" have brought hope to creatures such as i.

Created. Fallen. Forgiven. Saved. Hopeful.

this is what i am. loved with a crazy love i can't understand. i am but dust, a frail weak frame known fully from birth. i am but a sinner, loved and called. a footprint of a perfect God, i was created from dust for a glorious purpose.