Essay by Caleb Clardy, Trinity Grace Church, February 26, 2020
In the 103rd Psalm we hear a refrain that echoed through Israel and shaped and reflected how she came to know Yahweh: “The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love.”
God’s people said these words back and forth to each other for centuries, repeated this refrain, this chorus of God. What could you say if you knew that to be true? The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love. How honest could you be? How far could you go in asking for help?
If we knew the foundation of God’s character could we be real enough to say we have been quick to anger, we have been cheap in giving love, we have been self-protecting instead of gracious, we have lulled in apathy or distraction instead of compassion.
And what then? If we took the risk to be so honest? What of it? Why bother? Surely just saying how bad it might have been doesn’t make us better. Maybe not. But it does begin an honest conversation. It does open the possibility for exchange. The Psalmist repeats some of Israel’s most famous words about God and then draws out their meaning...
“The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love. He will not always accuse, nor will he harbor his anger forever; he does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us. As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust. The life of mortals is like grass, they flourish like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more. But from everlasting to everlasting the Lord’s love is with those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children’s children — with those who keep his covenant and remember to obey his precepts. The Lord has established his throne in heaven, and his kingdom rules over all.” —Psalm 103
Think of it:
A God who is willing to hear our worst mistakes, to know our most devastating failures, the exact contours of our sins, and yet to offer us mercy. To love us to a degree we can barely fathom, and to remove our sins from us.
A God who is under no illusions about us, who knows our frame. A God we have no secrets from, and as intimating as that might be, it is also freeing. For this God who knows our frame and remembers that we are dust still loves us dearly. Do you believe this morning this God is not surprised at how you have been made?
A God who is eternal and can give us His very life. We are dust. God is life forever.
Psalm 103 moves us towards God It moves us towards the heart of Ash Wednesday as well... Ash Wednesday is a day to ask for Mercy. Ash Wednesday is a day to remember our days are numbered. Ash Wednesday day is a day to call out to our God whose days are not numbered, who hold eternity in his hand.
Ash Wednesday is the first day of Lent. By the fourth century the Western church had determined that the Lenten period of fasting and renewal should correspond to Christ’s forty- day fast (Matthew 4:2), and, by counting forty days back from Easter (excluding Sundays, which remain “feast” days), arrived at the Wednesday seven weeks before Easter.
At one time Lent was primarily viewed as a period during which converts prepared for baptism on Easter Sunday, but later the season became a general time of penitence and renewal for all Christians. Thus Ash Wednesday became the day that marked the beginning of the Lenten renewal.
On Ash Wednesday, we meditate on our mortality, we commit to the way of repentance, and we hold both out to Christ who conquers sin and death. We take a day to mourn, to be honest about the world true condition about the brokenness we find in ourselves. We admit our limits and say with honesty that we cannot fix all that is wrong with the world our ourselves. We cannot even guarantee ourselves tomorrow.
We name our sins and we turn from them to Christ. Mortality. Repentance. and Union with Jesus. These are the cries of Ash Wednesday. These guide us to begin to our journey through Lent, to the Cross, and on to Easter.
We now prepare to receive the imposition of ashes... in Scripture ashes or dust symbolize: frailty or death (Genesis 18:27), sadness or mourning (Esther 4:3), judgment (Lamentations 3:16), and repentance (John 3:6). Ash Wednesday is a stark day. It is not absent of hope, but it is determined to look death in the face. It requires unflinching words like those of James 4:
“Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. Grieve, mourn and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up.” —James 4
These may not be what we want to hear, but if we will let them do their work, we can have their hope. We can wake up from our illusions. We can turn from our sin. We can admit there are precious few wise voices that can offer us real life, and only Christ can give us life to the full.
So we begin our journey to Easter with the sign of ashes. This ancient sign speaks of the frailty and uncertainty of human life, calls us to heartfelt repentance, mourns the agony caused from our separation from God, and urges us to place our hope in Christ alone.
Almighty God, you have created us out of the dust of the earth. May these ashes remind us of our mortality and penitence and teach us again that only by your gracious gift are we given everlasting life through Jesus Christ, our Savior.
“Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”