With a chinook roaring across the prairie — snow retreating, thermometres rising, soil drying — I’m reconsidering what it means to be dust in a universe made by Love, for Love.
Beautiful piece. “Dust is not introduced as shame. It is introduced as origin” really shifts the frame. We turned ash into humiliation, but Genesis presents soil as intimacy. The fracture is relational, not material. That’s a much healthier theology than curse-thinking. The chinook image works too. Exposure without drama. Soil waiting. That feels like Lent.
Beautiful piece. “Dust is not introduced as shame. It is introduced as origin” really shifts the frame. We turned ash into humiliation, but Genesis presents soil as intimacy. The fracture is relational, not material. That’s a much healthier theology than curse-thinking. The chinook image works too. Exposure without drama. Soil waiting. That feels like Lent.
Beautiful! Paradise not yet found.
I remember those prairie chinooks from childhood. They felt like such a revolution.
Dirt is amazing according to what science tells us. Packed full of living beings of all kinds.
Your forthcoming book looks very intriguing. When will it be published?
March 🤞