Ash Wednesday – Salvaged Faith

Ashes and Prayers

Posted on February 14, 2018Leave a comment

A colleague, Elizabeth Dilley, shared the story of imposing ashes on the foreheads of children. As she made the sign of the cross on one little boy’s forehead, “From dust you came and to dust you shall return,” his mom bent over and whispered in his ear, “But not for a really long time, okay buddy?”

We have a hard time accepting our mortality. We run from it. We do everything we can to prevent it. We seek to guard and protect our children and ourselves from every danger.

We want to whisper into every ear of every child, “not for a really long time, okay buddy?”

And yet, this world is full of sin and grief and we have allowed anger and violence to be common place.

At a school this afternoon in Florida, seventeen people died when a young man opened fire upon students.

I was overcome with grief at the image of a mother, weeping, the sign of the cross on her forehead, clutching in her arms her teenage daughter.

“Not for a really long time, okay buddy?”

We are nothing but dust.

We are human.

We are sinful.

We cannot solve these problems on our own.

And yet the hope, the promise, the reason we gather on a night like this is to remember that out of the dust of the earth, God made beautiful things.

Where our human limitations and sin threaten to destroy us, God promises to be present and redeem and restore.

When we simply cannot find the way out of the muck and the mire of life, God shines a light.

When the dust of death and the grave loom so large over us, God shows the way through even the valley of the shadow of death to the hope of eternal life.

And God begs us to repent, to believe the gospel, and to allow the power of God to fill our hearts so that we can confront the impossible evils of this world.

We cannot do it alone.

But with God’s help, swords can be beaten into plowshares.

With God’s help, thoughts and prayers can be transformed into deeds and actions.

May it be so.

Practicing Our Religion in Public

Posted on February 11, 2016Leave a comment

By some accounts, yesterday morning I did exactly the opposite of what Jesus tells us in Matthew.

Some of us gathered at a local coffee shop, a public place, to pray and impose ashes and remember we are merely human.

We were out there, practicing our religion in public.

I always find this passage from the gospel of Matthew such a very strange text to be assigned for Ash Wednesday, but there it is. Every year, on this day, these are the words that are proclaimed.

When you pray, shut the door and pray in secret.

When you give, don’t look for praise.

When you fast, don’t let it show.

All of these seem to speak against exactly the kind of public activity of gathering in a coffee shop to impose ashes.

Or the rather public display of walking outside of the church after worship with a big black cross on your forehead.

We are starting a series in worship here at church called, Renegade Gospel, and are reminded that Jesus didn’t come to start a religion. Jesus didn’t come to hand out new rituals for us to follow.

But you know what, Jesus did come to start a revolution.

Jesus did come to re-instigate a relationship.

Jesus came because of the simple fact we remember today. We are nothing but dust and to dust we shall return.

When we look deeper and contextually at our gospel reading in Matthew today, we come to understand that Jesus isn’t warning against being religious people in public.

No, he is asking us to stop pretending to be religious just because we are in public.

Jesus is calling us back into relationship… with God, with ourselves, with one another.

He is calling us back to the reality of our sin, our failures, our outward trappings of religion that demonstrate little or no faith on the inside.

As the Message translation sums up this passage: When you come before God, don’t turn that into a theatrical production… Do you think God sits in a box seat? Here’s what I want you to do: Find a quiet, secluded place so you won’t be tempted to role-play before God. Just be there as simply and honestly as you can manage. The focus will shift from you to God, and you will begin to sense his grace. (Matthew 6:5-6)

That sentiment is echoed in the words of Paul in 2 Corinthians 5:20-6:13. He is reaching out to them and asking that they listen, that they heed his words, because of what they have seen and heard about his faith.

He hasn’t hidden it. He has lived it. Fully. And living his faith has gotten him into lots of trouble.

The kindness and holiness of spirit, the genuine love and truthful speech… all of it has brought dishonor, ill repute, punishment… and yet he and the other disciples persist. They are not afraid to live out their faith publically for all to see and directly in the face of the religion of the day.

We might think of religion as the rituals and rules, the culture and conditions of faith. It is the box we put our faith in.

But Jesus comes to break the box apart and pull us out into the world.

Jesus comes to help us understand that our relationship with him is about far more than prayerful words and pious actions.

The gospel is yearning for us to be so caught up in its mercy, love and goodness that we can’t help but live into its revolutionary reality.

We are called to stop pretending to be religious and start living faithfully.

Whether this morning, gathered in a public space, or right here, tonight, in this community of worship, we are proclaiming the revolutionary message of the gospel.

We are dust.

We are nothing.

We are sinful.

We need help.

And those words are anathema to our culture. In a world where we try to show how strong and powerful and successful they are – they are tantamount to treason.

But we stand on the street corner and say them anyways… because they are true.

And because Jesus has come.

The one who created us out of dust will re-create us from the dust of death.

There is mercy and forgiveness in this place.

There is life, even in the midst of death.

And that, we should proclaim from every place we find ourselves.

We should invite every friend and stranger alike into that revolutionary truth.

Look. See. Live. #growrule

Posted on February 10, 2016Leave a comment

As part of my Lenten disciplines, I’m using a tool from The Society of Saint John the Evangelist called “Growing a Rule of Life.”

As Marjorie Thompson writes:

Certain kinds of plants need support in order to grow properly. Tomatoes need stakes, and beans must attach themselves to suspended strings… human beings are much like these plants… we need structure in order to have enough space, air, and light to flourish. Structure gives us the freedom to grow as we are meant to.

And a rule of life is just that kind of structure and support. There have been times in my life when I have practiced this kind of rule of life: a college covenant discipleship group comes to mind. But it has been a while since I have formed one and I’m looking forward to this season of structured discernment.

Today’s question from SSJE asks: How might the rhythms you observe in nature inform the way you live?

I was struck today by the snow falling outside of my window. During this time of year, it seems like we find ourselves in an endless cycle of snow, melting/slush/dirty heaps of snow, and then it snows once again.

This morning, we gathered for Community Ashes at a local coffee shop. We gathered to remember our common humanity and sinfulness. We gathered in solidarity with those across this world who are suffering and mourning. And when I pulled up to the coffee shop at 6:20 am… there was that gross, dirty snow all along the sides of the road. I pulled out the supplies and we began to impose the dark, sooty, ashes – signs of our mortality and repentance – upon one another’s foreheads.

Then a snow flake fell.

And another.

And before long, the whole world outside the window was blanketed in silent, fluffy, pristine snow.

On the very day we echo the words of Psalm 51, pure white snow fell from the sky.

Have mercy on me, God, according to your faithful love!

Purify me with hyssop and I will be clean;

wash me and I will be whiter than snow.

I am a human being, like any other human being. Though I strive for perfection and seek to become more and more like Christ, I have a long way to go.

Just like nature spoke aloud today that fresh snow or bright sunlight will take away the grime, so my life needs God’s mercy and the joy of salvation to cover my mistakes, to melt away my imperfections, to renew my spirit. Over and over again.

Ashes and Lattes

Posted on February 18, 2015Leave a comment

In the middle of a public place, a busy coffee shop, surrounded by strangers… people got real.

We hosted our first ashes to go in the community and while we didn’t have a large turnout, the conversations were deep and holy. I got to know my parishioners better. I heard what brings they joy and where they are struggling. I witnessed the joy and excitement of a family rushing through on their way to school.

People you only have time for quick conversation with in the greeting line after church hung around for a while and visited. It was fascinating to have so much more intimate encounters in a public setting.

In fact, I think the average length of stay at our table was probably 20-30 minutes.

Although, that’s what people do at coffee shops. They talk. They go deep. They open up and become friends.

I’m declaring our first time a qualitative success 🙂 I wonder about the conversations that will come as a result of our few hours of ashes and prayers.

Feasting, not fasting…

Posted on February 23, 2012Leave a comment

Mark’s gospel is known for its haste. Jesus is here and then there and everything is so urgent and busy. We spent four weeks in Epiphany just in chapter one because everything happens in such a short span of time. Life is all crammed in and there is no time for details.

That could also describe my entry into the Lenten season. In a whirlwind of activity and meetings and work and hospital visits and writing, there wasn’t time to breathe! I think on Ash Wednesday I actually might have had two pots of coffee just to get me through. Go, go, go. Rush, rush, rush.

But then, we got to worship. Everything was finally set and we were sharing in familiar liturgy, age old hymns, quiet moments of reflection and confession and challenge.

We had 27 people in worship that evening… And while that might not sound like a lot, it was double what we had any other year I’ve been around. As people began to trickle in, as they came forward and I placed those ashes on each of their foreheads, as we broke the bread and shared the cup, it felt like home. A family gathered to remember we are human. A family gathered to say that we were sorry. A family gathered to start putting our lives back together… Together.

We always have a meal after Wednesday worship and before youth group starts, so we told folks to bring a dish to share. We feasted together on Ash Wednesday, and it never felt more right. Marked with the ashes, we knew we were mortal. We knew we had fallen short. But we also couldn’t stay there because the good news of God was also our story that night.

I sat with a couple who ocasionally attend our church – when they aren’t off being caregivers for aging parents. We shared stories. We talked about our hopes for the young people all around us. And they shared with me that even in these last few months, something is happening in our church. God is moving and the excitement and eagerness is building.

I learned two things last night.

1) all that rushing and moving was worth it. There is urgency in what we are doing because it is important and there is not a moment to waste

2) but we also have to stop and remember why. We have to slow our hearts and really listen.

Ash Wednesday has always had such a somber and holy and serious personality in my practice and theology. It was a day of darkness and despair, wailing and pleading.

But last night, when I stopped to look at all of us gathered around those tables in fellowship, I realized just how joyous Lent can be.

We trust in a God who brings light out of darkness, life out of death, strengh from weakness. I know, liturgically we have a few weeks to sit in our repentance… But God is good… All the time.

So pass the pie, and the baked beans, and the pistacio salad… Happy Lent!

fasting in secret, doing justice in the daylight

Posted on March 9, 2011Leave a comment

Last night in Disciple Bible Study, we very timely read the Sermon on the Mount from Matthew.

As a class, we wrestled with the implications of such contradictory phrases: being salt and light, letting the whole world see the witness of our life – vs – praying and fasting and even almsgiving in secret.

How can we be witnesses for the Kingdom of God if everything we do is secret?

I’ve often loved the familiar quote by St. Francis of Assisi – Preach the gospel, use words if necessary.

We are supposed to be salt, flavoring this world for the Kingdom… but do it in secret?

It has always seemed strange to me that as we put ashes on our foreheads on this holy day and walk back into the world, we read the gospel:

And go out into the world to feed the hungry and to weep with those who mourn; to share your bread and to rejoice with others. And do it not for any heavenly reward… but do it because the Lord loves them. And do it because YOU love them too.

Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them (Matthew 6:1)

Yet as we wrestled, clairty started to find us.

We created a distinction between our personal piety: our prayer life, our fasting, our giving and realized that those aspects of our piety have nothing to do with other people. It is not done for others, it is done for God. No one else needs to know what we have given up, what we sacrifice, what time we have spent with the Lord. It is not for them… it is for God.

On the other hand, this same God reminds us that the fast he chooses is a life lived out in public:

Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? ⁷Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin? (Isaiah 58:6-7)

These actions have to be done in the world. You can not do them from the quiet of your closet.

God is calling us to both personal and social holiness, public and private repentance, transformation of heart and mind and soul and body.

As a Wesleyan, these two make perfect sense together. Love God, love your neighbor.

Fast and study and pray and worship, not for any reward but just to spend time with your Lord.

where two or more are gathered

Posted on February 18, 20101 Comment

Even though our congregation is small, I try to have two different services for Ash Wednesday. We have an older congregation and it is still wintery outside, so if we only had an evening service – many of our faithful wouldn’t venture out in the dark. But we also have a number of people who work and so if we only had a noon service, they would be missing out as well.

We had a pretty good turnout for our noon service. There were some technical difficulties as we tried to worship and sing without our usual pianst – but as someone said – that’s what makes it special!

I had all of the kinks worked out by the time our 6pm service rolled around. I had the candles lit and the words of repentance and transformation and discipline scrolling across the screen and music for contemplation playing in the background. I was waiting for the people to come.

And only one came.

I stood awkwardly near the back doors and let the opening sequence cycle through again. Maybe others are just late?… should we just go home?… ugh, singing with just the two of us isn’t going to work very well… alright, here we go!

“Well, J, it’s just you and me brother”

We read responsively the lyrics to the opening hymn and we heard the scripture proclaimed. We talked about what the ashes signify and spent time together, though silently in our prayer of confession. We marked one another with the sign of the cross. We dustied our foreheads to remind ourselves that we are mortal, we are brittle as year old palm branches, and we need God. We sat together going back and forth with joys and concerns and held hands as we prayed. We talked about the peace that we had found and the peace that we are taking with us into the world for others.

That worship wasn’t at all what I had expected it to be. But it reminded me that worship is an acting out of relationship. Our relationship to God, our relationship to one another, our relationship to the world. In our intimate encounters with one another, we can worship our maker. We can praise our Lord. We can repent of our sins. We can recieve forgiveness. We can offer back a part of ourselves. We can hear the words of grace and gospel. We can honor God. We can send one another forth.

Wherever two or more are gathered in my name… says the Lord. My prayer for Lent is that I make room for more of those holy and intimite experiences of relationship.

That experience last night has caused me to think much differently about my practices for this entire season, and so one of the things I’m giving up is the hours I spend in front of the television set, alone, wasting time. I’m allowing myself to watch when I exercise – b/c it’s what keeps me motivated, and if my husband wants to watch one of our favorite shows with me – because it is something the draws us close and we can have conversation about. But no more mindless hours in front of the t.v. set. I’m seeking out relationships with people and relationships with ideas and my relationship with God through conversation and game nights with others, and through dedicating myself to read some of those “God” books that have been sitting on my shelf for a while now and spending time in prayer and reflection around them.

life breathed into dust

Posted on February 25, 2009Leave a comment

today as we come forward to have the ashes placed upon our foreheads, as we remember what it means to be made of the dust of the earth, we tell the truth about our mortality and our sin.

we are nothing but dust – and to dust we shall return.

yet there is something profoundly missing in that story. because even in the beginning, as God formed us from the dust of the earth, from the clay of the ground, as God got down on hands and knees and got dirty… molding us and forming us… we were touched with the maker’s hands. and then the God of the universe breathed into Adam the breath of life.

as dust – we cannot escape from our mortality or our sin. as dust – there is no end possible but to return to the ground.

but we are not merely dust. God desires not the death of a sinner but a broken and contrite heart. God wants to bring life into our midst.

this time of lenten discipline is a time to open ourselves up to God’s grace. That may come through spiritual disciplines like fasting and prayer. it may come from denial of temptations (coffee and soda, anyone?). it may come from an attentive awareness to God’s movement in everyday things. But none of these practices in and of themselves earn God’s love – will bring us salvation… we do them simply to spend time with God, we do them for the sake of God, practicing these disciplines focus our lives on God and that in and of itself brings its own reward.