Ashes

My first experience of Ash Wednesday came when I was in middle school, and we had just moved to Rhode Island from Florida.  One day, folks came to school with a funny-looking smudge on their foreheads. I was embarrassed for them until my Social Studies teacher took me aside and said, "It's Ash Wednesday."  Oh, good, well that makes sense. My theory of Completely Unbelievable Coincidence involving #2 Pencils and Charcoal was a lot harder to believe.

As we prepare to gather again to contemplate repentance and bear the cross on our forheads, I'm grateful for this ancient practice, which reminds me that I am mortal, and that I am in need of a savior, and that salvation was wrought on the cross, and unleashed on Easter morning.

I wear many hats in life, and at times, many "masks" too.  It's good to be able to shed those masks in favor of a mark of who I really am, and who we really are.  We are children of the King, marked in baptism as Christ's own, forever.  From newborn babies to elderly saints of the church, let us all put on ashes, and remember that we are dust (beloved and breath-animated dust). Let us repent and believe the gospel, that Jesus tells us who we are and what we inhabit these dust bunny bodies for:  "To bring good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives, and recovery of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed and to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."