Dust

An afternoon walk, transformed into an adventure. The children wade through tall grass, inspect termites scurrying in and out of a crevice, leap over ditches and climb “mountains,” race down concrete water drains. Bottle caps and orange berries become treasures tucked tight in tiny fists. Bare feet, painted toes digging into soft sand, kicking up clouds of pale tan. Caleb and Nathan lead the way as Adara and I follow, hand in hand. The dust clouds billow out from those in front and I feel the clouds settling on my face and hands. I slow down with my little girl, watching the “men” walk further on. I try to avoid the dust shower that is trailing behind them. I don’t want to get dirty. I don’t want to deal with the grit of a joyful walk. And I am reminded then of being covered with the dust of my Rabbi.

“One of the earliest stages of the Mishnah, Yose ben Yoezer, said to disciples, ‘Cover yourself with the dust of [your rabbi’s] feet.’

The idea of being covered in the dust of your rabbi came from something everybody had seen. A rabbi would come to town, and right behind him would be this group of students, doing their best to keep up with the rabbi as he went about teaching…from one place to another. By the end of a day of walking in the dirt directly behind their rabbi the students would have the dust from his feet all over them.

And that was a good thing.” (Rob Bell, Velvet Elvis p 130)

As the father-son duo moves beyond and I fall behind, avoiding the spray of dust in front of me, I wonder where I am walking behind Jesus. Like today’s “adventure,” I suspect I am lagging, not wanting to get dirty. Not wanting to feel the grit. I am comfortable staying clean. But there is a cost. I am not close to Him. I cannot hear the laughter that comes from a far-away smile. I cannot hear His words over the din of life as it presses in on me…

An acquaintance greets me, “Long time no see!” I find myself telling “white” lies to excuse why I didn’t respond to her SMS. Why did I say that? I grieve the Spirit within me. I grieve myself. I am farther behind Him then I thought.

Adara is in my arms now and I am hit with the tragic realization that when I am far behind Jesus, so are my children. They are only as close to Him as I am.

Caleb and Nathan wait for us in a shady patch of the field just ahead. I hurry to catch up. Knee high grasses tickle my legs as I rush through them. Babe in arms, I leap over a ditch, eager to be reunited with the ones waiting for us, the ones I love.

So it is with my Jesus. There is no reason to delay. No penance to serve. Simply a humble and contrite recognition that I have fallen away. I align my thoughts, my will, my heart, to His. I hurry to catch up. He is waiting for me, the One I love. And suddenly the dust is a welcome friend. Thank you for the reminder, Lord. Cover me.