A Lenten Message

Image courtesy of West Vancouver United Church

“Lord, have mercy!”

My goodness, do I ever feel that prayer on this Ash Wednesday. These are dizzying times, to say the least. Like you I’m sure, I feel sidelined and rather powerless as I refresh (unhealthily perhaps) the ever-changing headlines. 

But what worries me most these days is the local, lived impact of this seemingly endless drama. What happens when people don’t have a place to put their anxiety, their anger, and their feelings of hopelessness? What happens when people try to reclaim agency in their own way, emboldened by the bluster and hubris of myopic leadership.

Just last week, I saw a man aggressively lunge with his car, over and over, hand on horn, at the vehicle in front of him. Just when I thought things were calming down, a nearby pedestrian ran up to the disgruntled motorist and smashed his fist into the driver’s window - all of this to the disconcerting applause (!!) of onlookers. 

“Lord, have mercy!” indeed.

In all of this, I’ve found myself going to the Psalms for hope. I find in the great prayer book of our faith a reminder that we have, at the heart of who we are, the language from which to shape practices of resistance, of goodness, of solidarity.

I also find hope in you - in us - the Church, enlivened and empowered by the Spirit of God. This world needs you, and what you stand for. This world needs your whole-bodied, counter-cultural proclamation that the way of Jesus is good news to a weary world. Don’t lose sight of that. We are not alone.

If you’re looking for a word of hope for today, I wrote a short Ash Wednesday retreat for my community of faith that I’d like to share with you. Please make use of it as is helpful: Ash Wednesday online retreat. 

As with every Lent, let lament, held in the light of who God is, be your teacher.

When you’re ready, let it shape in you the kind of illuminated posture that helps others find a redemptive place to place their own grief.

You are dust. We are dust. All of this unfurling around us is dust.

And to dust we will one day return.