I always get this dread when it comes to Ash Wednesday. I love the service, love what it stands for, but I have this weird OCD thing about dirt that comes into play with getting ashes on my forehead. I really don't like to be dirty. I was the kid who sat on the sidelines while everyone else rolled in mud. Growing up, I made sure that I would never be called "the dirty kid." Dirt is just not my thing. So it wigs me out when Ash Wednesday rolls around and people deliberately put dirt on their foreheads. My skin crawls just thinking about it, about how after Ash Wednesday services, you walk around with dirt on your forehead and everyone looks at you like your the dirty kid.
Last night during the service, I kept thinking about that, about how we as humans have a hard time admitting there's dirt in our lives. We want people to see us as clean and perfect, but beneath that shell, 9 times out of 10 it's a different story. We don't want to be judged by others, we don't want to be ostracized, we don't want to be whispered about, so we hide our "dirt" and blend in with the crowd. Last night, we admitted to being dirty. We admitted that our lives are ugly without Jesus, and we were marked. We were transparent. It was humbling. I wonder how different things would be if we lived our lives that way- transparent and honest about all the dirt. I wonder if the world would really be forgiving. We're a world that likes to act like we have it all together, but do we really? no.
During Lent, my goal is to try to remember that we are all marked people, no matter how well we hide it, and not only are we marked by the dirt of sin, we're also marked by the blood of Christ. He loves us, in spite of our dirt. It doesn't get any better than that.
0 comments:
Post a Comment