Dust To Dust

A good friend said something so simple the other morning, yet it struck me in such a deep way. 

"We are DUST." 

All of us. 

Piles of dirt. 

We could easily be washed away, blow away, kicked to the wind. 

Our time here is so limited before we sink back into the Earth. 

What are you doing with it?

Girls who spend their entire time here seeking recognition from man: you are DUST. 

Those who spend their entire time here concerned with the life of another pile of dirt: you are DUST. 

Those who cling to their security blanket of fear: you are DUST. 

Those who let the small, earthly things ruin their relationships with fellow believers: you are DUST. 

I know I'm guilty as charged here. 

Until God grabbed a hold of my face and showed me all the things I was completely wasting my time here on, I was headed in a horrible direction. 

I was chasing wind. 

I was overly concerned with my looks. 

I was overly concerned with what other people thought. 

I was forgetting that I was just dust. 

I was forgetting that God could blow me off this planet at any given moment, and what would I have to show for my life? 

 

When I think about Caracas and the orphanage there, I see a lot of dust. 

Literally. 

My last time there I was covered in it. 

I walked in it. 

I played in it. 

I worshipped in it. 

All the children's hands were covered in it. 

No matter where I went, dust followed. 

When I was there at age 17 I got a small glimpse of dust and how beautiful it was to get dirty in it. 

I discovered for a moment what it was to realize how small you really are. 

Here were these kids who didn't know so many of the simplicities that I had taken advantage of since I was a child. 

Here were these volunteers who sacrificed their time as DUST to put hope into a small child's eyes. 

What was I doing? 

At the age of 17 you rarely know who you are much less if you'll ever find your way. 

Here I am, 6 years later asking myself the same question. 

What am I DOING? 

I am dust. 

Am I loving as much as I can? 

Am I working as hard as I can? 

Am I taking the dust God has given me and sprinkling it everywhere I can? 

I encourage you to try to wrap your mind around the fact that you are DUST. 

Are you making beautiful things out of the dust? 

Or are you just dust? 

Hanging around until you're blown off the side of the Earth? 

Don't sweat the small stuff. 

Take the leap. 

Let go of fear. 

Step up to the plate. 

Maybe you have a grudge you haven't let go of. 

Maybe you harbor unforgiveness  and have a lost relationship God keeps prodding you to fix. 

Maybe you spend your time obsessing over the opinions/life choices of others. 

Maybe God has called you to a mission field but you just can't let go of home. 

Maybe you just exist. 

Remember: 

We are DUST. 

Don't get to the end of your life and still be holding all the things God has given you clenched in your fist. 

Spread it. 

Jesus can make beautiful things from the dust when it's willing to become clay. 

18 Days of Solitude

Last night on my run God took me back to when He called me to missions.
I think to remind me that His calling still remains, even in the midst of the flood.

My feet were dangling above the rust-colored snagged carpet in my childhood children's church.
A beautiful woman with curly hair and stories of love and hope began to fill the room with words of excitement.
That woman was happy.
No, not happy.
Something more.
As a child I couldn't quite put my finger on what exactly she had, but I wanted it.
God wanted me to have it too.
As other kids giggled and let their minds be filled with thoughts of the soon approaching buffet at Western Sizzlin, God reached down from the heavens and wrapped his hand around small Britney's heart.

As a child the call to missions doesn't seem so serious.
Or real.
It's just like being told you're going to wear blue jeans tomorrow.
No big deal.

But I could see it was a big deal in my mothers eyes when I informed her I was going to be a missionary one day & maybe give my life for this man named Jesus in a way no mother would ever want for her child.

It was a mixed ocean of emotions in her eyes that day as I buckled my seat in the car next to her.
A gleam of pride in her baby girl and a teaspoon of fear.

The first time I went to Venezuela I was scared to DEATH.
If you know me well, you know I worry.
From the plane crashing to not measuring up once we arrived, my worries were at an all-time high.
The experience from 6 years ago  is vivid.

I met my best friend Courtney there in a twin sized bunk bed with no air conditioning or hot water.
I saw things I didn't understand.
I saw girls with no mother to brush their face at night or to tell them they're beautiful.

I saw a thirteen year old girl scream my name when she broke her arm because I was that connection for her that week.
Someone was yelling MY name.
That was a moment.
At age 17, that was a moment I didn't yet understand.
Many of my dearest friends were prophesied over that week, including my beautiful Courtney.
I have never met a heart more innocent or open to receiving.
Courtney has yet to stay in one place, just as the man told her.

I was passed over that night for good reason.
I was in no place ready spiritually or emotionally to have someone say, "You're going to be a missionary. Got that?"
Uh...hold up.
No.
I'm just here because the other option was governor school and people told me I'd vote democrat or something if I went there.


My heart was not mature in the summer of 2007.
I was not in love with Jesus nor did I truly know Him.

I knew felt-board, prosperity, pulpit, "Jesus."
I knew the Jesus everyone else had told me about, but not the Jesus I know and love today.



Today I know Him.
On the last day many will claim to know Him, but He will say, "depart from Me I never knew you!"
The  usage of "knew/know" that we see here is the same one used when Mary KNEW Joseph as man and wife.
Wow.
This changes everything.

A lot of people know ABOUT Jesus.
A lot of people can recite facts about Jesus.
But a lot of people do not KNOW Him or His heart.

I know Jesus intimately.
I know Jesus in a very raw way that sometimes is a little uncomfortable.
But being in love with Jesus will never give you a comfortable life.

I am a big mess.
When God opens doors for me to share His love I am still confused.

Of all people, I'm the last person I would give the job to.
But Jesus is cool like that.
He takes yesterday's left overs that nobody wants and makes a gourmet meal.
He's Jesus.
He can do that.
I have to trust that He has chosen me carefully, even if all I see is a broken and useless piece of clay.

July 1. 2013 I will board another plane to Caracas.
Again, why God opened the door and how He convinced so many people to support me to go is mind-boggling.

I'm not going with a group.
When I board that plane there won't be a familiar face in the seat next to me convincing me the plane won't burst into flames or that it's going to all be okay.

I think that was sort of Gods point.
"Britney, I am more than enough."

God asked me to lay down a lot of every day normalcies for me last night.
I have 18 days until I board that plane.
God wants all of me and my heart cleared of all the mess cluttered up.
The rap music (grimace).
The anxiety (me, anxious?).
The distorted self image.
The quick temper.
The impatience.
The sharp tongue.
The fingers so quick to point at everyone else.
The broken heart.
Will I be perfect when I step into that airport?

Of course not.
But Jesus wants my heart open and my mind focused for the mission.


The next 18 days I will be clearing out Britney's wants and making room for Jesus' wants.
My heart needs to be healed to be re-broken for Jesus.

July first, I'll be seeing you.