ash wednesday reflections

Today is Ash Wednesday, which marks the beginning of Lent and marks us with little crosses of ash upon our foreheads.    We venture into our yearly sojourn in the wilderness, following Jesus day by day as he journeys ever nearer to his own sacrifice on the cross while we reflect upon the little sacrifices we make throughout this season.  For some, it might mean surrendering a habit or a particularly enjoyable cup of coffee; a “little death” which calls us again and again to turn to God while traveling in our darkness, for at the end comes the hope of Light and Life. 

For me, my sacrifice is my own pride.  More numerous than I can count have been the occasions over the past couple of weeks that the Lord has spoken to me the one simple word “reconciliation.”  And with that word I see my sister D. whom I have written about here.  We still have not spoken since that day when she ripped me a new one over the phone.  And God is nudging me incessantly, saying “makes things right.” 

My pride screams, “But I’m right, I’m the one who got hurt in this!  She wants nothing to do with me!”  God’s still small voice says, “That’s a load of crap and you know it.  She is just too proud to come to you first.”  Even if I never get an apology from her, I know that I need to go to her with my own apology and also with forgiveness.  And so the struggle has been; we both are experiencing our own forms of darkness and even despair over deeper issues that really have little to do with the recent blow-up.  I have to trust that whether the outcome is one that I would favor, that it isn’t about me, and that there will be Light and Life at the end of it.

It’s just the going through it part is so dismal and painful.

I’ve decided the best thing to do is write her a letter.  D. is a big on letters.  It’s not uncommon to get two or even three birthday or Christmas cards from her, and numerous cards in between, just because she liked the cards or because she was being thoughtful.  Letterwriting is where her heart is at and the best way I can probably reach her is through a letter, strip it down, lay it all bare for her, and hope she is receptive.

After all, I’m the one who claims on here that my faith is relevant to this life in this time.  How much more relevant can I get than doing the work of reconciliation?  I thought about this tonight at the Ash Wednesday service, where we heard a homily by a missionary pastor in some east African country working among the Maasai people (read from a transcript).  In this homily, the missionary pastor writes of one Maasai woman who became a Christian.  Following Jesus sparked within her a great hope and change, such a powerful transformation that she would walk miles to the closest worship gathering and miles back to wherever her nomadic tribe happened to be.  Kicker was, no one else in her tribe was a Christian.  But what she had burned within her and she longed to share that with the others in her tribe.  Over time, some 100 Maasai from her tribe received baptism. 

Now that is relevance!  To have a living faith so urgent that she was willing to walk several miles one way to worship and because of her faith, her love, her dedication, her whole tribe was able to come to Christ as well.  Sometimes getting myself up at 8:00 in the morning on Sunday to get ready for worship is such a chore!  I don’t write that to put myself down or make myself feel guilty.  I write it to remind myself that following Christ is relevant to my situation, that gathering for worship is a  joy because the One who creates, redeems, and sustains us is relevant, is “all that,” and can heal our divisions.