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"From dust you've come. To dust you shall return. Repent and believe the gospel."
Some of you already know this: I've been working on a directed study this semester about campus ministry as a resource for life transitions. One of the books I've read for this project is by William Bridges. It's a bit more self-help-y than the things I usually like to read, but it has some solid insights, chief among them that transitions begin with an ending. Bridges suggests that one tool for navigating the inevitable transitions in our lives is to reflect on how we deal with endings.
"From dust you've come. To dust you shall return. Repent and believe the gospel."
Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the church season of Lent. It's an odd day -- people reflecting on their own mortality and walking around with smudges on their foreheads does not seem like the kind of thing people would still do in 2015.
Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the church season of Lent. It's an odd day -- people reflecting on their own mortality and walking around with smudges on their foreheads does not seem like the kind of thing people would still do in 2015.
If it's the kind of thing that you're into, you go to a service, and confess your sins, and then a priest or a pastor smears ash on your forehead and says:
"From dust you've come. To dust you shall return. Repent and believe the gospel."
"From dust you've come. To dust you shall return. Repent and believe the gospel."
You might think that means, "You're going to die, so admit your sins so that you don't go to hell."
But actually, it's more like: "You are human. You are mortal. You are prone to error. Believe the good news that you are loved, that you are forgiven, that your soft, vulnerable flesh is beautiful in its transience."
But actually, it's more like: "You are human. You are mortal. You are prone to error. Believe the good news that you are loved, that you are forgiven, that your soft, vulnerable flesh is beautiful in its transience."
"First there is an ending, then a beginning, and an important empty or fallow time in between."
"From dust you've come. To dust you shall return. Repent and believe the gospel."
Lent is 40 days, not including Sundays. People often "give something up" for Lent -- a few years ago, I blogged about things I wasn't going to give up on for Lent -- while others take on a spiritual practice.
I'm going to blog again, this Lent. This time, about transitions. About endings, and how we begin with endings.
"From dust you've come. To dust you shall return. Repent and believe the gospel."
Lent is 40 days, not including Sundays. People often "give something up" for Lent -- a few years ago, I blogged about things I wasn't going to give up on for Lent -- while others take on a spiritual practice.
I'm going to blog again, this Lent. This time, about transitions. About endings, and how we begin with endings.
About how I've dealt with endings in the past, and how I'd like to deal with them in the future.
About some of the big endings coming up in my life, the endings that will begin new and very exciting beginnings.
"From dust you've come. To dust you shall return."
We begin Lent today, with palms burnt down into ashes, smudged onto our foreheads to remind us that we are human.
About some of the big endings coming up in my life, the endings that will begin new and very exciting beginnings.
"From dust you've come. To dust you shall return."
We begin Lent today, with palms burnt down into ashes, smudged onto our foreheads to remind us that we are human.
Because we begin with endings.
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