Ash Wednesday
I walked slowly to the front of the church. The walk down the aisle seemed especially long. People were hushed as we slowly ebbed forward. It was my turn to stand in front of pastor. He dipped his hand into the bowl of ashes, darkening his fingers with the soot. He reached out, I bowed my head. The fingers were cool as they traced the sign of the cross. The words were somber and sobering, “Your sins are forgiven.”
Over forty years ago I walked forward to receive ashes on my forehead in celebration of Ash Wednesday. I vividly remember the day. The ashes remained on my head – reminding me – “Your sins are forgiven.” The soot contrasted the white robe of righteousness which Christ gave to me on the cross and sealed with the empty tomb. The ashes reminded me of how black my sins are – were. The ashes reminded me of how important this earth and its possessions are – they are nothing – they are ashes. The ashes remind me that nothing I have – my money, my furniture, my house, my car, my food, my technology, even my body – will last forever – they will turn to ashes.
The ashes draw me into remembering the awesome work of Christ – how He grants to me eternal life, Eternal, never-ending, life – no more tears, no more suffering, no more worry, no more troubles, no more hurts, no more sickness. The thought of living with Him in heaven is awesome. This hope sustains me in the daily fight. Each day I awake – refreshed, ready for the day – hopeful, happy, joyous. Each night I confess, “Lord, I messed up again, please forgive me.” I lie down to sleep, exhausted, troubled, and concerned about the day. The hope Jesus gives to me refreshes, renews, excites.
This hope is not just for heaven. He grants me hope for the day. He gives me strength. He gives me comfort. He gives me words. I rejoice.
Ash Wednesday reminds me of the journey we take on this earth – similar to the journey that Christ took to the cross. We live for a time, suffering, rejoicing. We die – we live – eternally.
Prayer: “May our Lenten journey be blessed. Thank You, Lord.” Amen.
Over forty years ago I walked forward to receive ashes on my forehead in celebration of Ash Wednesday. I vividly remember the day. The ashes remained on my head – reminding me – “Your sins are forgiven.” The soot contrasted the white robe of righteousness which Christ gave to me on the cross and sealed with the empty tomb. The ashes reminded me of how black my sins are – were. The ashes reminded me of how important this earth and its possessions are – they are nothing – they are ashes. The ashes remind me that nothing I have – my money, my furniture, my house, my car, my food, my technology, even my body – will last forever – they will turn to ashes.
The ashes draw me into remembering the awesome work of Christ – how He grants to me eternal life, Eternal, never-ending, life – no more tears, no more suffering, no more worry, no more troubles, no more hurts, no more sickness. The thought of living with Him in heaven is awesome. This hope sustains me in the daily fight. Each day I awake – refreshed, ready for the day – hopeful, happy, joyous. Each night I confess, “Lord, I messed up again, please forgive me.” I lie down to sleep, exhausted, troubled, and concerned about the day. The hope Jesus gives to me refreshes, renews, excites.
This hope is not just for heaven. He grants me hope for the day. He gives me strength. He gives me comfort. He gives me words. I rejoice.
Ash Wednesday reminds me of the journey we take on this earth – similar to the journey that Christ took to the cross. We live for a time, suffering, rejoicing. We die – we live – eternally.
Prayer: “May our Lenten journey be blessed. Thank You, Lord.” Amen.