From Ashes to Glory

It is no coincidence, I am sure, that my thoughts are what they are lately and that today is Ash Wednesday. Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of Lent, and the first day of intentionally preparing as a church for Easter. Tonight at the service we were marked with a cross on our foreheads with ashes. Ashes are used to signify how fragile life is, how we are from dust and will return to dust, and the reality as well as the necessity of death.

It wasn't supposed to be this way, this fragility and death. God made it all good. Since sin came into the world, though, everything changed. Death and decay, pride and sorrow, rebellion and selfishness all overshadow the goodness that once was. But not to the point of overcoming it!

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. John 1:5

Darkness can never conquer light. 

As I read the beginning words on the bulletin from the service, I was struck by the theme that has been running circles in my head; now it was running a straight line on the paper right before me! The very first paragraph reads:

The Lenten journey from the ashes of death to resurrected life begins on the first day of Lent, Ash Wednesday, which signifies a time to turn around, to change directions, to repent. This first day of Lent reminds us that unless we are willing to die to our old selves, we cannot be raised to new life with Christ. (emphasis mine)

What has been weighing on me? My need to turn around. What was I reminded of yesterday? My re-realization that in order to live I must die. What do I encounter tonight? One more reminder of those very things. 

Those present were encouraged to "observe a Holy Lent by self-examination and penitence, By prayer and fasting, by works of love, And by reading and meditating on the Word of God." The words self-examination struck me like a board. That is something that I very desperately need to do. And not in a woe-is-me-I'm-such-a-terrible-person way, but in a genuine, reflective, and (as it says above) penitent way. 

I have a confession. I wanted to give up soda for Lent. I woke up today with the thought,"I'm going to do it!" I ignored the box of Pepsi in front of our pantry all day. I pushed away the desire to have one each time I thought,"My head hurts," or,"I'm tired," or,"These little people are driving me crazy!" Until suddenly I decided to have one. 

I have no idea what got into me, except I just didn't care more than I did care. And no one knew that I was waffling, making pseudo-plans, feeling good and then caving. Only I knew. And God. I gave myself a good trouncing in my mind. Later, as I took the girls to church so that Michaela and I could attend the service, we were discussing Lent and what it meant. Michaela said to me,"You should give up soda," in an encouraging way, not in a snarky way. I looked at her in the rear-view mirror and said with a wry smile on my face,"Except I just had one." She looked me straight in the eye, smiled, and said,"You can start tomorrow."

And just like that, she showed me the way of grace. I messed up on the first day, but tomorrow is a new day. 

The writer of Lamentations, from a place of depair, clings to this hope:

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
    for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
    therefore I will wait for him.”

3:22-24

The Lord's great love for us, his compassion, his faithfulness, we can depend on. Part of the prayer tonight led me, and all of us corporately, to confess "pride, hypocrisy, and impatience in our lives..." I felt that one, heavy. But part of the prayer is confession, and part is a plea: "Accept our repentance, O God...Favorably hear us, O God, for Your mercy is great."

Mercy greater than the highest towering mountain, greater than the depth of the unfathomable bottom of the ocean, greater than the widest chasm dividing is God's gift to us, this death that leads to life and this life instead of death.

Comments

[Missy]

"except that I didn't care more than I did." OH. MY. WORD! That was my exact thought as I attempted to give up Diet Vanilla Coke last week. I finally broke and had the same stinkin' thought. But... I love that you remind me that darkness can NEVER conquer light. Amen, sister. Amen!