Ash Wednesday reflection

Today is Ash Wednesday. The cross on my forehead has already been wiped away, but the ashes still linger in my pores.

I don’t pretend to be an expert on Ash Wednesday or Lent. I’m grateful for the people who guide me in these seasons (my husband, the wise spiritual directors in my life, and the leadership at my church). But what I do know is that we cannot possibly understand the fullness of Joy without remembering the depths of our Sorrow.

Lent invites us to hold both. To face our mortality, our grief, and our need for God, and somehow, at the same time, to live in the enjoyment of Him. Not a loud or easy joy, but the quiet kind that comes from knowing we are held even here. The kind of joy that doesn’t erase grief, but refuses to let grief be the final word.

That feels impossible. And yet the kingdom of God has always been a place where impossibilities meet grace. Again and again, we are invited into paradox: death and life, repentance and joy, ashes and hope.

So maybe that is the invitation of Lent: not to perform sorrow, but to let it open us to mercy. Not to have everything figured out, but to stand honestly before God and remember that we belong to Him.

The cross on my forehead is already wiped away, but the ashes remain. And in that I remember that He carries the cross, and I carry the need. Thanks be to God.