Ash Wednesday is a paradoxical day. It is one a day in which we mark our own mortality on our forehead, written in ashes, and yet still one which calls us to life. A life lived out in service, humility, and love. This day holds some special weight for me as a pastor. It is not just about leading a service or sprinkling ashes on the foreheads of our community; it is about living into the Gospel's call to servant leadership.
With each year that goes by, when I make the sign of the cross on the forehead of the people who are coming forward, I am struck by the sanctity of this practice. The intimacy. How often do we do this? The loving touch? I remember that in the COVID era as were weren't practicing communion, our community was instead sharing an anointing of oil. At the time someone had gratefully commented on the practice, noticing that the fragrance was something that lasted for days after and was a hopeful reminder of our shared path as church together. Similarly, the ashes are a mixture of oil and palm fronds from the previous year. Gritty and black, they are a tangible reminder of our shared humanity: "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return." But as the service ends and the sanctuary starts to clear, I notice something else: the ashes on my fingers.
This is the hidden mark of Ash Wednesday. While everyone notices the ashes on my forehead, few catch sight of the dirt under my nails. It is a hushed reminder that ministry is not always glamorous or flashy. It is dirty and humble and not always noticed. It is the work of just being present, of kneeling low, of stretching out—no matter who sees.
This Lent, I am reminded that we are all called to carry the "dirt" under our nails. Not real ashes, perhaps, but the smudges of our service to one another. The phone call to a friend in need, the meal prepared for a grieving family, the listening time spent with someone who feels invisible—these are the things that leave their residue on us, that no one else might see. They remind us that love is not an emotion but a verb, and it will often involve getting our hands dirty.
Lent is a season of disruption. It breaks us from the regular rhythms of life and into a space of reflection, repentance, and renewal. It is a time to ask ourselves: Where am I being called to serve? Where am I being invited to bear the "dirt" of love and sacrifice for the sake of another?
As ministers together, as servants of Christ together, everyone is commissioned to live out this kind of servant leadership. We are all called to be ministers of grace, carriers of hope, and carriers of the holy dirt of loving our neighbors as ourselves. This is not a Lenten discipline; it is a call to life.
The ashes on our foreheads will wear off, but the grime under our nails—the marks of our service—will remain. They speak of how we have loved, how we have given, and how we have allowed God to work through us. They remind us that the greatest acts of faith are often the ones that go unnoticed in the world but are seen by the One who matters most.
This Ash Wednesday, as we are given ashes, let us also take the offer to carry the grime. Let us step into the chaos of love, the servitude of humility, and the glory of a life spilled on behalf of others. And let us not forget that even amidst the ashes, there is hope—for the God who created us from the dust is also the God who breathes new life into the dust of creation, again and again.
May this Lent be a season of deepening our servant love, visible and invisible. And may we all have the holy dirt under our fingernails as a sign of our shared humanity and our shared vocation to love one another as Christ has loved us.
Comments