My family has recently begun attending the local Presbyterian "Mega Church" as I call it. (Seriously, it's the biggest Presbyterian church I've ever seen. It doesn't seat thousands but it does have three services). The church we had been attending decided to move twenty minutes away so we'd been churchless for a while. The Presbyterian church is where we've sent our kids to AWANA so we had a pretty good feel of the people or at least the place so social anxiety was minimal. I had some other qualifications I felt I needed in a church (I can't remember if I've written about that. I'll have to look. That was an...interesting...process...) and the Presby satisfied them all. We started attending the Saturday evening service which, let me tell you, is a great thing for a church to have.
Anyway, the point is that, as my wife states, Presby is kind of like Catholic light...all the ritual without the Latin, the guilt, and they let the leaders be married. I'm not sure that's an official description, but suffice to say they celebrate things like Ash Wednesday.
I'd never been to an Ash Wednesday service before given that I had the typical FEC sensibilities of "It ain't in the Bible, so we ain't doin' it". Maybe it's my age creeping up on me and sentimentality creeping in, but I felt like I really wanted to go and experience it. I'd done Lent before and was committed to doing it again this year by giving up sugar. Well, sugar in overt forms. I know bread has some sugar in it as do fruits but I'm not giving them up. The sugar in my coffee, cookies, candy, soda, etc. however are verboten. It's the indulgences I'm limiting. (Day two is going on right now for me and...the withdrawals are pretty bad right now. My body is less than happy with me.)
There was a soup and bread meal before the service that we also attended in order that we might get to know the congregation a little better. I say "might" because I'm a little strange when it comes to meeting people. My wife is the more daring one when it comes to conversation. I'm always busy thinking, double thinking, and triple thinking what I'm going to say, how it will be received, how they might respond, and by the time that process is over I start wondering if the length of time I've spent thinking it through has been too long so as to make it not just awkward but super awkward. It's a vicious cycle.
The time came and we all filed into the sizeable sanctuary which filled up very quickly. That was probably my first shock. At all the churches I've been a part of before it was hit or miss that even a quarter of the congregation showed up for an event that wasn't on Sunday morning.
My nine year old daughter nudged me a bit and asked me where the ashes were and if they actually were the burned palm branches from last palm Sunday. My little nerdling had researched it before we left the house. I replied that I didn't know and that wasn't necessarily a for sure thing. She then asked what it was all about. Apparently the things she retained from her research were more along the lines of interesting trivia.
I explained about ashes as a symbol of mourning and how we come to Lent as a recognition of our sins; that our sins have offended God, that we are from dust and to dust we will return.
She asked if she had to get that stuff on her forehead if she went up and I assured her that it's only for the will, completely voluntary. My daughter gave a confession of faith in Jesus last year and still hadn't even gone forward for her first communion so I didn't expect that she would even entertain the idea
One of the things people in FEC circles get hung up on connected to Ash Wednesday and, by extension, Lent is the focus on the "sin" component. I was struck by this when my sister had called me earlier in the day to relate her experience attending the event at a Catholic church. The priest apparently went on about our sin, how sinful we are, how it offends God, and so on until she had to leave. Naturally my Smart Ass (tm) reply was, "Did you check the denomination before you went through the door" and she said yes, of course but...what about Grace? Naturally my brain kicked into overdrive and started obsessing on the differences. I came to a few conclusions and notions.
It was best said by the pastor at the Presby service that night. He said that we cannot understand the full value of that grace until we understand the depths of our depravity and the offensiveness of our sin.
Jesus' sacrifice has little value to those who don't think they did much of anything wrong in the first place. Amazing Grace is only such a sweet song when we realize we are a wretch. I look reflect and find that I can easily live my life thinking that my sins are minor things because I'm keeping the Big Ten with little to no problem. I'm really not bowing down at idols, disrespecting my parents in word or deed, haven't come close to murdering, and I can't even remember the last time I coveted my neighbor's donkey. But God says my heart is corrupt and full of deceit. I sin. I sin all the time. Not a day goes by that I do not sin. It's a modern numbing that tells me "Oh, well, ya know He's going to forgive you so shrug it off and don't give it a second thought." Just because I know that the Judge with find me innocent doesn't mean that I should feel nothing when finding that I've committed a crime. Should I feel condemned? No. However, should I feel nothing? Sin is a cancer and there's not a cancer patient in this world that hears the diagnosis and goes, "Oh, sure. Ok, Doc. Thanks," with a casual air like I can tend to do with my sins.
After an invocation prayer they had someone play and sing Phil Wickham's song Mercy and I nearly wept in my pew. We forget that we need mercy. It's so easy to fall prey to Behavioral Christianity that believes Grace covers everything so don't think on it or let it prick your conscience. We become quite happily numb to our wretchedness. I'm not at all saying that we should consider, as I was told as a child, that every sin we commit is another thorn in the brow or a twist of the nail in Jesus' hand. But it does us well to remember on occasion lest we become like the Ungrateful Servant.
Ash Wednesday is a reminder that our sins have offended God. Lent is all about giving up our little idols, our comforts, and mourning that we tend to lavish them with more adoration and attention than we do the Jesus who saved us. In the end we are our own idols, as it turns out. The things we give up seem to make room for us to hold on to more of the LORD.
I had prepped for the occasion. I wasn't about to be caught off guard again by the Non-FEC style communion where they actually say things to you. "This is the body of Christ broken for you." "Uh....thank you?" (Direct quote from our first visit). I wondered if they would go with the oh so Catholic, "Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return." or the slightly more modernly palatable, "Repent and believe the gospel."
The pastor looked into my eyes and said, "Dust you are and to dust you shall return. Repent, believe the gospel and follow after Jesus."
For the second time that evening I nearly lost it.
I don't believe that there is a power inherent in the rituals themselves. It would be easy to confuse the issue there. I had always seen the rituals as empty expressions without power and meaning. I was likely half right. They are without power. However I do believe that when we use them to draw nigh unto the LORD he is faithful to show up and draw night unto us. Just going through the motions without a fully engage heart is not enough. Believe that the ritual has any power in and of itself is not enough. It's such a fine hair's breadth line that it can be difficult to put into language.
God showed up for me there, that is for sure, just like He has faithfully shown up in my "ritual" of praying three times a day, and reading my Bible first thing in the morning.
Something snagged my attention out of the corner of my eye. The pastor was rising from a bent position and I wondered why since I believed that it was my wife right behind me and she's short but not that short. A familiar bashful and half afraid face appeared belonging to my daughter as the pastor moved out of the way to put an ash cross on my wife's forehead. I could not help but beam at my daughter. I had wondered if she would ever take the next step in her faith walk by taking communion, and here she was participating in Ash Wednesday. She followed me through the communion elements accidentally grabbing the crust of the loaf she was presented with and had an adorable little tug of war with the deacon who held it. Dipping it in the cup of wine she walked faster to catch up with me and ask in a loud whisper, "Do I eat it now or do I wait 'til we're in our seats?". I smiled and told her either was OK, but I eat it right away because it can drip on your hands.
We walked back to our seats, sang a hymn, received the Benediction, and were asked to exit in silence.
Exiting in silence was one of the strangest experiences of my life. It was unsettling, and that was the point. Ash Wednesday is not about rejoicing. The rejoicing comes at the end, on Easter Sunday. We were to feel unsettled, as if something was wrong, because something is wrong. Sin broke the world. Again, I like to think of it as a minor inconvenience, but sin is a terrible, horrible thing that has shattered lives, destroyed man's relationship with God and I wonder how many times I look at my sinning brother and I shrug in the same way I do with it in my life. I couldn't help but think of my previous pastor and the Solemn Assembly he holds every year in October as an "Ash Wednesday" for another season of fasting. I think we could stand to take sin seriously more than once a year.
Pax,
W
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