From Ashes To Ashes

Today marks the beginning of Lent, a forty-day trek through the wilderness of the soul that begins with a simple, earthy gesture that is as ancient as it is elemental: the marking of ashes.


While the world often views Ash Wednesday as a somber or even morbid reminder of death, we are invited to see it through a different lens—one of hope, belonging, and beautiful interconnectedness. 


Historically, ashes were a sign of humility and a desire for reconciliation. By the Middle Ages, the practice of marking the forehead became a universal sign of the Lenten fast. 

But the reasoning goes deeper than mere tradition. When we receive the ashes, we are participating in a visible "leveling." Whether we are rich or poor, young or old, we all come from the same stardust and the same Divine breath.

As we are reminded of our connectedness with God and Creation, these ashes are a holy reminder that we are finite. On Ash Wednesday, we often hear the refrain from Genesis: "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return." 
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Ashes have played a major role through scripture as a sign of mourning and repentance. In the book of Joel, the prophet cries out, 

Yet even now, says the Lord,
    return to me with all your heart,
with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning;
    rend your hearts and not your clothing.
Return to the Lord your God,
    for he is gracious and merciful,
slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love,
    and relenting from punishment.
                                           Joel 2:12-13

This is an invitation inward, to make room in our hearts for God, who “is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.”

These ashes not only remind of us of where we come from, but to whom we belong.

This is why Ash Wednesday doesn’t stand alone. It opens the door to Lent—marking the 40 days Jesus spent in the wilderness after his baptism, to empty himself of his ego, that part of his humanity that often gets in the way of really embracing one’s divinity.  

This is why we are called to also fast, to spend time giving up something that keeps us from being closer to God. It’s about loosening our grip on the things that numb us, distract us, or convince us we are self-sufficient.

Barbara Brown Taylor believes the practice of fasting is a spiritual discipline that helps us see what we are actually hungry for. When we quiet the ego craves, we often find a deeper hunger for justice, peace, and connection.

But Lent is never only about fasting. It is always paired with feasting. It’s not yet the full feast of Easter. It’s more like small bites. Daily tastes of joy, clarity, and connection that remind us why we’re doing this in the first place. Like the psalmist wrote, “Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart” (Psalm 37:4) 

Lent teaches us both restraint and delight, training us to recognize that the spiritual life isn't about denial for denial's sake—it is about finding what your heart truly desires. To be close to the One who created you from stardust.  

But here’s the hard truth about all this that I discovered. Internal changes don’t just automatically happen overnight. Those things always takes time, patience. They require an open heart and open eyes to really see and understand.

Like Advent before Christmas, Lent is also a time of waiting. And how we wait matters. 

We can use our time passively waiting, believing that Easter is just around the corner. Or we can wait actively, knowing that Easter has already come. Even as we struggle to keep our Lenten fast, remember resurrection is here. And it happens every day through our acts of love, justice, and forgiveness.

Jesus showed us the way, to move from the old into a new way of being. Which is why we call it Lent.  And why it happens in springtime. The word Itself actually comes from the Old English word for "lengthening days" that moves us from darkness to light.

It’s considered to be the "springtime" of the spiritual life. It is a season of light, of growth, of promise. A season where the "dust" of our lives becomes the fertile soil for something new to bloom.

You are part of a grand, cosmic story. You are made of the same elements as the stars and the soil. Shaped by a Creator who calls you beloved and names you good. And animates you with a Love that refuses to let you go. 

From dust you are made. And unto dust you shall return.
As you feel the earth against your skin, remember that you are a beloved  child of God. Made of the same stuff as the hills, the trees, and the stars—and God looked at it all and called it 'good.'