This world is full of men who go to bed tired.  Civilizations are carried by exhausted men who tirelessly work to gain momentum.  Guys are holding communities together with sheer grit and determination.  Buddies are propping each other up when their knees give out under the load.  The weight of responsibility is overwhelming and can crush a man regardless of might, strength, will, or determination.

Do you feel it?  Do you see it?  Are you doing it?

My world is held together with dirty nails.  Everywhere I turn, I see blood shot eyes, weary sighs of disgust, and hands that tell a story that belong only to the man that carries them.  Calloused, stained, scarred, tough, firm hands grip each day and hang on for another.

My world is held together with dirty nails.  The kind of dirt that buries so deep under the nail that a knife blade can’t reach it without pain.  The kind of dirt that comes from turning the soil.  God told us it would be this way when mankind fell in the beginning (Genesis 3:17).  By the sweat of our brow, we turn the dirt.

My world is held together with dirty nails.  Stained with oil soaked mud that is evidence of exhaustion.  The man that stands with chest out full and chin forward trying to make living a little better for the ones he cares for.  He doesn’t know how to say “I care for you” but he sure as hell can show you.  His dirty nails tell the family how much he cares for them.

My world is held together with dirty nails.  The ash of the rescuer who risks everything so you and I can live another day.  The banged up hands decorated wth soot covered nails fresh from a reclaimed life.  His dirty nails tell his culture how much he values them.

My world is held together with dirty nails.  The hands of God are are soiled and dirty from dragging men like you and me out of desperation, holding on tightly so evil can’t have it’s way with us.  The hands of God are calloused from picking us up and setting us straight again, and again. His dirty nails are evidence of hope.

My world is held together by dirty nails.  The nails that tore through the hands of Christ as he hung on cross.  Dirty nails that gives us hope and showed us how the work of God isn’t always safe or pretty.  Christ’s dirty nails show us how much he loves us.

Dirty nails are the mark of something done…a sacrifice.  A placeholder of something exchanged for our attempt at turning the soil in this life.  We may never feel the pain that Christ felt when our sin drove the dirty nails into his hands.  How empty your days will be when you look down and see your smooth hands and clean clipped nails.  May we all stand strong, dig in our heels, and hang on to our brothers for dear life and find it joy to get our hands dirty.

Dirty nails tell the story of the daily struggle.

Dirt lives under the nails of the man clawing his way out of his own private hell.  He quietly struggles to pull himself up without a moan of complaint or controversy.

Dirt lives under the nails of the man who is falling into a hole so fast that his only hope is to reach out and stop the fall by sheer will power.  Sometimes he succeeds and sometimes he falls to his death.

I am grateful for those who have gone before me with dirty nails.  I am forever thankful for my Christ that hung on dirty nails so I could have hope.

At the end of my days, I only hope that my brothers say a prayer of gratitude for me… to be a man that died with dirty nails.  What about you?

Dig in to faith and LIVE BOLD.
Download Article