It was a milestone day for little Micah Nathan, two and a half weeks old. His belly button cord fell off. This is good news, since diapering will be simplified, and he can now be submerged at bath time.
I remember clearly when our first baby’s cord fell off. Thirty seven years ago, hospitals tied them with white string. Each time I changed Nelson’s diaper, that cord stub was a wonder to me. He and I had been linked together in God’s detailed design, sharing food and oxygen. But the birthing process had separated us, also God’s plan.
In the blush of new motherhood, I remember the day I unsnapped newborn Nelson’s sleeper and found his cord stub, dried and useless, separated form his tummy. To medical personnel it would have been trash, but to me it was precious. I knew I needed to do something special with it, but what?
I set this bit of dried skin on the bathroom window sill to think about later. It was protected from view by a curtain, so I knew no one would throw it away. Working with the needs of our colicky new baby, I promptly forgot about it until two years later.
We were moving, and when I took the curtains down, there it was, along with a quick Bible lesson. Just as God says in Scripture, we truly are made of dust. There on the window sill was a tiny pile of what looked like dust encircled by a bit of once-white string.
Had Nelson’s cord actually morphed into real dust? I cupped my hands around it and blew. Sure enough, it flew away. I thought about Adam and Eve being molded from the ground. God actually says, “Out of the ground you were taken, for dust you are, and to dust you shall return.” (Genesis 3:19) Coming upon our baby’s cord-dust was a glimpse into our human past, but also a power-packed statement about the reliability of the Bible.
There’s another scriptural reference to dust, this one with a positive spin on it. God lets us know he thoroughly understands our weaknesses, so gives us extra grace based on our “dusty-ness” rather than extra punishment based on our inability to measure up. I guess God knew not to expect too much from a pile of dust.
I’m thankful for my biblical lesson from Nelson’s cord and the reminder of it when Micah’s cord came off today. God’s teachings are all around us, particularly in nature, and I can’t think of anything more natural than our origin being from dust. But there’s an epilogue to the lesson of the cord. God is planning to override the natural finality of our dusty-ness by providing brand new bodies not made from dust.
He labels them “glorified”, and we’ll be housed in these new versions of our old selves throughout eternity. We can be sure they won’t decompose into dust at the other end of life in heaven, because there will be no other end!
Just one question remains. Will our new bodies have belly buttons?
“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.” (Psalm 103:13-14)
Hi Margaret,
There’s a book entitled “Did Adam Have A Belly Button?” I think your last question is the sequel title!
Those eyes on Micah are amazing- they already look like they contain years of wisdom! How much do those little guys already know, but just can’t get it out? What a contrast this brand new life is to the march toward dust.
Your blog today reminded me of a song by Casting Crowns, “Who Am I”, as like your words, it captures my frailty and His enduring love. “I am a flower quickly fading, here today and gone tomorrow, a wave tossed in the ocean, a vapor in the wind. Still You hear me when I’m calling, Lord You catch when when I’m falling, and You’ve told me who I am. I am Yours.”
Just as there is a cord at the beginning of our lives that sheds when it has outrun its purpose, so there seems to be another cord at the end of our lives. Ecclesiastes 12:6 calls it a silver cord, and like the umbilical cord coursing life to the developing baby, it, too, is our thread of life. All of Ecclesiastes 12 provides poetic imagery to describe the very unpoetic breaking down of the human body both physically and emotionally as it makes it way to dust. Normally we can look forward to sunshine after rain, but for the aging person the writer tells us, its more clouds. The hands tremble, strong legs bow, teeth fall out, the eyes grow dim, the ears can’t hear, the body can’t sleep, new fears emerge, and desires decrease, until finally that silver cord is snapped, the spirit goes back to God and the body goes to dust. No wonder the preacher laments “vanity, all is vanity!”
What’s it all about exactly? His whole book ticks off one thing after another that we go after in this life, persuading the reader that the sum of all of it is vain. When he comes to the end, after beating a theme that life under the sun is vanity, he concludes that the whole of it is about our relationship to God. So he warns, “remember Him before the silver cord is broken,” and “fear God… He is going to bring every one of us to judgment.”
How grateful I am that Jesus Christ has absorbed the penalty of my sin, and I will not come into judgment because I am trusting Him fully for right standing before God. I can sing with Fanny Crosby, “Some day the silver cord will break and I no more as now shall sing. But oh the joy when I shall wake within the palace of the King.”
I don’t know what our new bodies will be made of, but that it’s not dust is a new thought for me- must be something suited for another world.
Much love,
Terry
Well – I’m glad to find someone else who doesn’t always get around to dusting the window sills. : )