“As a father has compassion on his children, so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him, for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust” (Ps. 103:13-14).

father with child, freedigitalphotos
What a blessing it is to have a compassionate Father overseeing our lives. Constantly, he observes us, knowing what we’ll say before the thought even forms or the words flow over our lips. We are filled with reverent awe of this mighty God who shaped the universe and yet who is cognizant of every intricacy of our inner selves, even filling us with his very presence.

He formed us in the womb. He numbers our hairs, counts our tears, and considers us individually more than there are grains of sand upon the earth, a number beyond reckoning.

Yet, to me the most comforting aspect of God’s view is that he remembers that I am dust. He is completely aware of all my failings and weaknesses. I’m a self-reliant, stubborn firstborn. I’ve got this. I forget I’m dust all the time.

message in mud, large, freedigitalimages

And so, I get buried. I forget to lift my eyes up to the one who provides the help. I fail to rely on the Lord. My load grows heavier and heavier. I stoop. I topple.

But God never forgets I’m human.

“The life of mortals is like grass, they flourish like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more” (Ps. 103:15-16).

withered plant2

The writing world is undergoing fast-paced change. Keeping up makes my head spin. As I prepare for the writing conference I’m attending next week, I’m caught in a swirl of tumultuous industry change, career-shaping decisions, passion for the written word, and attempts at literary immortality.

Because we’re mortal, mere creatures of dust, in addition to getting our words to those we hope to encourage, we writers hope to leave a legacy. It’s a human attempt to remain, even after we blow away and are forgotten. Within fifty years of our deaths, no one will be alive who even knew us.

Yet, our words might stick. So, we’re battered about as we try to discern how to publish.

This is vanity and chasing after the wind. If God wants our words to remain, he’ll bring it about, whether we choose self-publishing, traditional publishing, or indie publishing. The vehicle we choose for publishing is immaterial.

And so, the fact that the Lover of my soul knows I’m dust comforts me. Not only does he know how frail and self-reliant I am as I struggle to make these decisions, but he knows I want immortality. Through his Son, he provided the only type of immortality that matters, giving me a living hope and the promise of an unfading, eternal inheritance. He knows me more intimately than I know myself, so he knows my truest needs better than I do. This is true of all of us.

We are seen and known. We will not be forgotten.

jesus closeup on cross

Jesus engraved us on the palms of his hands, bearing his crucifixion scars for all eternity as a living memorial of his sacrifice for us. Our names are written in his book, and his Spirit inspired the writing of his eternal Word. These are the important writings.

How does it comfort you that God will never forget you?

 

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