Remember You Are Dust. But You Won't Stay That Way!

I had the privilege of giving the homily at our church's Ash Wednesday service last night, it kind of came about last minute, but I was so honored to be asked. If you know me, you know this is one of my two very favorite days in the church year (the other being Good Friday), so I was ecstatic to get to preach on a topic/day that I am so passionate about. I love the depth, the history, the tradition, the tangible aspect of touching ashes, seeing a visible sign upon our heads of our humanness. I love how much brighter Easter is once you walk through the shadows of the Lenten season. Yes, I love Ash Wednesday. For anyone who is interested, or who missed getting to be at their own Ash Wednesday service yesterday, here's my 7 minute message:



My basis for this message was Psalm 51, so you may want to read verses 1-10 of this first!

Repentance. Confession. Sin. Transgressions. Iniquity. Death. Lenten words. If we are honest, most of us start to get a little uncomfortable when we hear these words mentioned in church. Wouldn’t we rather spend our time talking about joy, forgiveness, jubilation, and life? We like these words don’t we? These “Easter words” that bring to mind brightness, color, energy, and exuberance. The Lenten words don’t bring about quite the same feeling do they? Our tendency is to fly through the next six weeks without pausing, to race ahead to the glorious day of resurrection that makes us want to jump and shout and clap for joy. And we could do this. We could pretend Ash Wednesday doesn’t really mean anything. We can ignore the season of Lent and act as if we don’t need to prepare for Easter. But if we do, aren’t we only short-changing ourselves? We miss something. How do we know just how bright resurrection morning is if we have not paused to experience the shadows of the Lenten season? When we sing and clap and dance for joy because our sins have been forgiven with the rising of our Lord, do we really even know what it is that we are in need of forgiveness for?

King David, the author of the Psalm Elizabeth just read certainly understood sin. He had just committed adultery with Bathsheba, had Bathsheba’s husband killed so he would never find out the child she is carrying is not his own, and been confronted by Nathan the prophet, who knows of David’s sin. David understands what guilt feels like. He understands what it is like to feel as low as the dust from which he was formed. Remember you are dust. And to dust, you shall one day return. David doesn’t seem to need the reminder of Ash Wednesday as he cries out: “Cleanse me, God! Against you I have sinned. Wash me! Let me be whiter than snow again. Give me a pure heart God, for I know my sins, I have been sinful from the time I was born. Renew me o Lord, only you can restore me.”

Like David, we too know the reality of our sin. We know where we’ve messed up. We know when we have done things that were disrespectful, made hurtful comments to people we love, or have dwelt on thoughts that we shouldn’t have allowed to linger in our minds. But often, we don’t take time to pause to really think about these things, or ask God for forgiveness.

So tonight, we pause to remember we are sinners. We acknowledge we are dust, we are human, we are frail, we are finite. We are marked with ashes—black, dusty, dirty smudges on our skin in the shape of a cross. And that is where we find the beauty of Ash Wednesday. In the cross. Jesus knew how human we were when he came to die on that cross. He knows, tonight, how human we all are. He knows the shame we carry, the guilt that plagues us. But he hasn’t left us alone to wander in the shadows and darkness. He invites us to let go. He whispers to each of us tonight, “let me cleanse you. Let me carry that burden for you. Let me wash you. Let me give you a clean heart, a renewed spirit, a fresh start for I love you.”

I was reminded this past weekend that Ash Wednesday isn’t the only time in our lives we are marked upon our foreheads with the sign of a cross. My 4 month old niece was baptized in Rhode Island on Sunday, and I was struck with the reminder that for those of us who have been baptized, we’re marked with the sign of a cross upon our foreheads on that day. Only we’re not marked with dirty smudges of ash at that time, we’re marked with clean, refreshing water. This water is a symbol of God’s promise to us that we are a part of his family, his promise that he has removed our sins from us. He remembers them no more. As we leave here tonight we leave with a visible reminder upon our heads that we are human. We are dust. And we are sinners. And when we return home and we turn on the clean, refreshing water to wash the ashes from our foreheads, may we allow ourselves to remember that we have been cleansed. We are forgiven. And we await with great anticipation the celebration that is coming—the celebration of Jesus triumphing over all our sin, all darkness, over death itself, so that we might one day live with him for all eternity.