Mennonite Weekly Review

As we are marked with ashes, we remember the palm fronds we waved as we danced around the sanctuary last year on Palm Sunday to commemorate Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem.

As the dark lines form a cross, we remember that no ministry to further the kingdom of God is without a price.

As we hear the pastor’s words, we remember we are dust, and to dust we shall return.

For churches that have the ritual, an Ash Wednesday service provides a solemn beginning to the season of Lent. During these 40 days we face our mortality, yet hope to draw closer to the God who gives us life and never leaves us.

We rely on God to meet our needs. Yet we easily forget that fact when we have many of the things we want, and even some we don’t, such that we pack up boxes and bags to take to the thrift store every few months.

Jesus was tempted in the desert by power and property. We are tempted by a shifting illusion of what is enough. We strive to have more money in our bank accounts, a nicer house and more possessions, thinking that the good life is just within reach. So we get a little more, and then the goal moves a bit further away again.

In the midst of our struggle, we hear voices from Haiti after the Jan. 12 earthquake, voices of gratitude simply to be alive. We hear people who have lost their homes, livelihoods and loved ones give testimony of God’s great mercy.

Disasters teach us that ultimately we can’t count on having houses or possessions. They could all be taken away in a moment. We could lose our lives and our loved ones; we know one day we will. Yet the faithful will not be separated from God’s love. We could lose all we possess, and what we would have left is God and the communities of God’s people who seek to care for each other and those in need.

We fast and strip away excesses during Lent in our worship and our spiritual lives to see what is really there. The austerity of Lent reveals to us our own brokenness, but also God’s great love for us in spite of our failures. We find that God does not love us for our education, our houses, our cars, our wardrobe or any of our accomplishments.

Lent teaches us that we are beloved because we are God’s children. We can always return to God. Like the prodigal son, we will be received with open arms after all our mistakes and self-indulgences.

Life is short, and our failures are all the more poignant in light of that truth. Yet while Lent shows us our fragility, it also holds the promise of Easter.

We will die, this we know. Yet we also share in Christ’s resurrection, which is greater than death, greater than all the powers and principalities of this world. Christ’s triumph is greater than our failures.