{# pb-24 reserves room so the sticky audio player, when docked to the bottom
of the viewport, never covers the last content (related sermons, tags…).
Only needed when there's an audio player to dock. #}
{# justify-center, not justify-around: around gives each item a half-size
space at the row ends, which reads as an even spread with three items
but leaves two items sitting off-centre. Centring the group keeps the
row balanced whatever combination of preacher, date, time and series
a sermon has. The lg:px-8 on each item supplies the gap between. #}
{# The compact player docks to the bottom of the viewport once you scroll past
it; the waveform above and the download/share row below stay in normal flow.
The `stickyPlayer` component lives in assets/public/public.js. #}
{# The description and the sermon's metadata share one grid: the
description takes two thirds, the metadata rail takes the last
third. Explicit column starts keep the rail on the right even
when the description is absent. On small screens the grid
collapses to one column and the rail follows the description.
The transcription sits outside this grid, below it, so it keeps
the full page width - its two-column timestamp/paragraph rows
and tall scroll pane need the room. #}
{# Top margin here rather than on the caller: the transcription is no longer a
grid item, so nothing else supplies the gap above it. #}
{# The component is `transcript` in assets/public/transcript-component.mjs;
it runs auto-scroll and the in-page search. Search is entirely client-side:
queries are never sent or recorded. #}
Transcription
{# Both routes redirect to the archived page for a delinquent church, so
offering them is a dead button. The transcript itself still reads,
and so does searching it. #}
PDFtxt
Auto-generated - may contain small errors. Always verify with the audio version.
{# Hidden until the magnifying glass (or "/") opens it. On phones the
buttons get their own row so the query isn't squeezed. #}
{# mousedown.prevent keeps focus in the input, so tapping these on a
phone doesn't dismiss the on-screen keyboard. #}
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
You are listening to a message from Southwood Presbyterian Church in Huntsville, Alabama. Our passion is to experience and express grace. Join us.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
We've been singing tonight about our weakness, our need, crying out to our God from a place of humility and dependence upon Him.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
This is what I call realizing our dustness. When we come face to face with our creatureliness, with our limitations, with our own inadequacy, it happens in a lot of ways.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
It's happened to me several times just in the last few days. Yesterday morning, I was on the treadmill, and I've always believed that you can always just go a little bit faster, right?
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
And just push yourself a little bit harder. And so every day on the treadmill, I think I'm going to go a little faster and a little farther than I did the day before. And yesterday morning, my lungs and my legs staged a protest.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
They argued with that point that I believe in so strongly. They said, stop! You can't go any further. And I felt my limitations.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
This weekend, I was leading a meeting, and I needed to redirect a conversation that had taken a turn I wasn't anticipating and hadn't planned for, and it was my job to lead the meeting, and I didn't know how to help.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
And I felt my inadequacy. Sunday, I got a call that the father of my childhood best friend was dying. He's one of those guys who was a professional athlete, someone you remember as a kid, admiring and looking up to and thinking he's strong and capable, you know?
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
And you're a kid, those adults who can do whatever they want, and you really think they'll always be there. And Friday, I'll speak at his funeral.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
And I was feeling my own frailty. When have you come face to face with your dustness recently?
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Perhaps receiving a diagnosis that you have no control over? Perhaps getting older, feeling aches and pains where you didn't know you could feel aches and pains?
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Perhaps experiencing your weakness in fighting against sin? Perhaps getting older, feeling like a child, you didn't want to, but you clicked on it again. You said those hurtful words again.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
You looked and envied again. And you felt powerless to do what you knew was right and wanted so much to do.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Regardless of our strengths and our plans and our attempts to control everything in our lives, we all face our dustness time and again, don't we?
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
In this life, it's always before us. The Bible has a lot to say about this. I want to start by reading from Psalm 103 as we reflect just a few minutes tonight on the gospel according to dust.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Psalm 103 at verse 13. As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
For he knows our frame. He remembers that we are dust. As for man, his days are like grass. He flourishes like a flower of the field, for the wind passes over it and it is gone, and its place knows it no more.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
But the steadfast love of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him and his righteousness to children's children. We'll come back in a couple minutes to Psalm 103.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
But for now, just notice that it says God knows our frame. You may be used to hearing that in a different version. He knows how we were formed.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
He remembers that we are dust. So it's pointing us back. We need to go back to the beginning of the story. God knows how we were formed, of course, because he is the mighty creator who formed us.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
God knows how we were born. Who formed us out of the dust of the ground. Genesis chapter 2. It's humble beginnings, right? Formed out of the dust of the ground.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Just a part of the creation from the dirt. Not apparently special or inherently worthy at this point.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
But then God breathes his life. Physical, spiritual, relational.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
He breathes into Adam. And we're in his image. Mankind made in God's image. Man and woman set apart from the rest of creation to reflect his authority and his goodness and his dignity.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
The reconfigured dust was to be glorious, right? That's the beginning of the story on dust, isn't it? It's what God had in mind. But you know how the story goes, don't you?
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Our sin disrupts the story. Even just in the next chapter. And in the midst of the curse that God pronounces as a result of man's rebellion.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Our dustness is connected to our sin. The very ground is cursed. Genesis 3.17 Death enters.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Physical and spiritual death now. God pronounces man will return to dust. To the now cursed ground that he came from.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
From dust you are. And to dust you shall return. Lowly. Hopeless. Dust. I played a lot of baseball growing up.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
And if you spend long summer days all day on a Saturday on a dusty little league field, you know for sure that the ground is cursed.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Fields that are so dry and dusty that your lips begin to stick together. You can't even talk. It gets so dried out.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
They're parched. A little bit of wind makes you turn your eyes from the stinging dust that's blowing. When someone slides at your feet, the cloud of dust that flies up.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
No one can see anything for several seconds. The dust just sticks everywhere on every part of you. The whole field gets dry and torn up.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
And you feel like you need a bath between every inning. It's not a pretty sight. That's what dust begins to picture through the rest of the Old Testament.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Almost every time it's referenced referring to the lowly. The downtrodden. The powerless. The unworthy. So when Job talks about his dustness, he writes this in chapter 30.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Now my soul is poured out within me. Days of affliction have taken hold of me. The night racks my bones and the pain that gnaws me takes no rest.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
With great force my garment is disfigured. It binds me about like the collar of my tunic. God has cast me into the mire. And I have become like dust and ashes.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
What's it like? What does he say it's like? The most horrible things that he can imagine. The most painful. The agony that he's experiencing. All that suffering.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
He says it's like dust and ashes. It's always been part of our creatureliness. Our finitude.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
But now it's actually much worse through this part of the story. Dust is also highlighting our failure. Our inadequacy. Our disgrace. Isaiah connects dust with the results of our sinful rebellion.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Chapter 5 verse 24. Therefore as the tongue of fire devours the stubble. And as dry grass sinks down in the flame. So their root will be as rottenness.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
And their blossom go up like dust. Why? For they have rejected the law of the Lord of hosts. And have despised the word of the Holy One of Israel.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Because of our sin. We're like dust disappearing. We're pictured as this miserable little league field. Worthless.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Because we've rejected our true purpose. Refused to follow God's glorious design for us. And ended up being just blown away by a light wind.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
There's nothing to us anymore. You and I have felt that. Haven't we? Yes. Weak. Limited.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
And finite. And frail. And also failing. Yet again. Inadequate for God's calling.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Unworthy of His glory. And when you get that low. That face to face with your inadequacies. You often give up hope of ever being anything more.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Don't you? Have you felt that? That predicament is what we must contemplate. Particularly on a day like Ash Wednesday.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
But it's something we must consider regularly. Because the big question at this point in the story is. How will God respond? How will God respond? This is where we're stuck with these feelings.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
How's God going to respond? What's His heart toward disgusting dust? Everything about us calls for Him to reject us.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Suggests He should be repulsed. That pushes Him to feel disdain for such weak, pathetic wretches. You've got to feel the weight of that at this point in the story.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Especially for those of you who know the end of the story already. Don't read ahead. I know you know how He feels. But feel the weight of how we deserve for Him to feel.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
You've felt the emotions before. When He felt distant. When you didn't feel His love. When you felt at the end of yourself.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
And worthless and without hope. How does the mighty Creator God feel about pathetic dust?
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
And we make it back to Psalm 103. Let me read it one more time. As a father shows compassion to his children.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
So the Lord shows compassion to those who fear Him. Why? Where does the compassion come from? For He knows how our frame.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
He remembers that we are dust. As for man, his days are like grass. He flourishes like a flower of the field. For the wind passes over it. And it's gone.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
And its place knows it no more. Except who does? No one remembers you. But the steadfast love of the Lord. Is from everlasting to everlasting.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
On those who fear Him. And His righteousness to children's children. Far beyond when we're gone. And forgotten.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Is His love. Do you see what this passage is saying? It's His compassion. And His love. And what's in between? Our dustness.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Our weakness. The fact that we disappear quickly. And yet His compassion. And His love. Are driven towards us.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
By that. His compassion and love come. Not in spite of. But even because of. Our dustness. That's the verdict.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
God loves dust. That's good news. Look at the heart of your God towards you. When you're face down. At the end of your rope.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
With no hope left. Blown off the stage. And forgotten by everyone else. The place you live. Doesn't even remember you anymore. But His heart is tender compassion.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Steadfast love. From everlasting to everlasting. Never running out. John Calvin says it this way. Speaking of these verses.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
He says. David here. Annihilates. All the worth. Which men would arrogate to themselves. And asserts that it is the consideration of our misery. And that alone.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Which moves God to exercise patience. Towards us. This again. We ought carefully to mark. Not only for the purpose of subduing the pride of our flesh.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
But also that a sense of our unworthiness. May not prevent us from trusting in God.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
The more wretched and despicable our condition is. The more inclined is God to show mercy. For remembrance that we are clay and dust.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Is enough to incite Him to do us good. Amen. Remembrance that we are clay and dust. Is enough to incite God.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
To drive His heart of compassion. To do us good. I'd call that the gospel according to dust. Yes. From dust we are.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
And to dust we shall return. But God says we are beloved dust. He loves us so much. That He sends His Son to rescue us.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
To die the death we know so well we deserve to die. And we feel the weight of it. To live the glorious life we were created to live. But we've never really gotten a glimpse of what it could look like.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
He never stops loving us from everlasting to everlasting. And His righteousness He gives one generation to another after you're gone.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Making us right one generation after another. Amazing. See this may be the most astonishing part of the whole story. The story of the gospel according to dust.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
You remember that glorious intent that God had. When He formed us out of the dust of the earth. What He created us for. That's still His plan for us.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
He's making us right again. After many long, hot, dry Saturdays on those dusty little league fields.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
I finally made it to the state tournament. At a minor league baseball stadium. And I remember walking up the dugout steps of this amazing stadium.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
And just marveling at the beautiful field. The grounds crew had just finished up polishing it up. And it looked magnificent.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
They took that same dust. And with the right care. And the proper amount of water. It worked just right. For my money, if you love baseball or landscaping.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
You can't do much better than the beauty of perfectly manicured green grass. Surrounding perfectly watered brown dirt.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
It's tough to beat. It's a beautiful thing. That's dust looking and functioning the way it is supposed to be. Right? This is where God is going with the story.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Y'all. This is what He's been up to since creation. And what He's still doing. Paul writes in a couple of places about the first man. Adam. Who failed and brought disgrace and sin to all of us connected to Him.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
And then he speaks of the next man. Jesus. The second Adam. Who succeeded and brought honor and life to all of us connected to Him.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
In 1 Corinthians 15 he explains it this way. The first man, Adam. Was from the earth. A man of dust. The second man, Jesus.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Is from heaven. As was the man of dust. So also are those who are of the dust. And as is the man of heaven. So also are those who are of heaven.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
So listen. Just as we have borne the image of the man of dust. We shall also bear the image of the man of heaven.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Listen. We are limited. And we have failed. We have borne the image of the man of dust quite well. Haven't we? We have walked in Adam's footsteps.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
We have felt his pain. And we are wanting to take a good long look at that tonight. And through this season. And see that reality about ourselves. But the hope in Christ.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Is that we shall also bear the image of the man of heaven. The glorious image we were designed to reflect. We will be restored to. As a beautiful part of God's glorious creation.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
That He makes back the way He always intended. So Christian. You can admit. Your sin. And all its horrible effects.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
As you begin this Easter season. You can stare your weakness. Your failings. Your grief. Even death itself.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
In the face. Tonight. You can smear dust and the ashes of death. On your body tonight. And yet rejoice.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
Because it's not the end of your story. It's not all that's true about you. You can rejoice because God the Father loves dust.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
You can rejoice because Jesus the Son stared death in the face for you. So that you would be remade.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
In His glorious. Perfect. Image. And that's good news. Let's pray. Father we thank you.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
That though we are weak yet you are strong. That from the time you created us. You have also designed to recreate us.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
In your image. To bear your likeness. To reflect your glory. And so Father as we begin now.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
To see our frailty. To acknowledge our sin. Would it be your grace that allows us to look at it straight on. Would it be the hope of life everlasting.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
That allows us. Even to stare at death tonight. And tell it it holds nothing over us. Because of our Savior.
{# Without a player to seek there is nothing to click, so the
timestamp drops to plain text rather than a button that
silently does nothing. #}
It's in His name that we pray. Amen. For more information visit us online at southwood.org