Thoughts on Lent

One cold February day about fifteen years ago, I was preparing for my first Ash Wednesday as a pastor.  I had scrounged up some palms from last year's Palm Sunday, and I looked for a place to burn them.  The garage would do.  It was a dilapidated garage attached to the 1920s parsonage with slanted roof and exposed lathe boards.  Out of the chill.  Open door to prevent smoke inhalation.  In the middle of the concrete floor, I stood over a ceramic bowl large enough to catch the ashes that would fall.  The match struck with the acrid smell of sulfur.  Flame to dry palms.  Dry palms ignited.  Quickly burned.  So quick I risked a burn to my hand.  Ashes fell into the bowl, but not before a gust of wind ripped the side door open even further and the spring was taut enough to threaten breakage.  The wind was so strong it toppled a rake that was precariously leaning against the wall.  The rake fell on the bowl.  The bowl overturned and the ashes were gone -- silt on the floor, chafe in the wind.  I gleaned enough for the worship service, but many ashes were lost.

I am preparing for another Ash Wednesday.  In the short time I have been the pastor of Green Valley UM Church, I have seen some doors blown wide open.  Oncology reports.  Long distance calls from places of remote pain.  The ashes fly.  Some days I can hardly collect the pieces of my own life let alone the fragments of a flock.  But next Wednesday we will gather.  On Ash Wednesday we will gather because we believe that the wind which disrupts is also the wind of the Spirit of Life.  We need the ashes on our forehead -- a visible reminder to ourselves that the only bit of security we have is the God of Jesus Christ who collects and gathers our scattered lives.