From Ashes to Life

Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, a season of reflection and prayer as we walk with Jesus towards the cross and eventual resurrection.  During this season of Lent, I will endeavor to post each Wednesday a reflection on a psalm.

Psalm 51 is attributed to David, when the prophet Nathan confronted him after he had laid with Bathsheba.  It is a story we know well, reminding us that even the mighty King David, a man after God’s own heart, was not infallible, not above temptation, and not above sin.  Click here to read all of Psalm 51.

As this is Ash Wednesday, we are reminded of our own mortality, our own sinfulness, our own need for mercy.  From dust we came, to dust we will return, for this body is an empty shell, a mere vessel which carries a piece of the divine.  And it is the body—our earthly desires, that often get us into so much trouble, distracting us from what is right and good, knocking us off the path of righteousness.

           Have mercy on me, O God,
               according to your steadfast love;

           According to your abundant mercy
               blot out my transgressions. 

         Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,

              and cleanse me from my sin.

         For I know my transgressions,

              and my sin is ever before me.

           Against you, you alone, have I sinned,
              and done what is evil in your sight,

                                 Psalm 51:1-4 (NRSV)

Alex Gondola, in Come as You Are, tells of the funeral of Charlemagne, one of the greatest Christian rulers during the early Middle Ages.  After his death a mighty funeral procession left his castle for the cathedral at Aix.  When the royal casket arrived, with a lot of pomp and circumstance, it was met by the local bishop, who barred the cathedral door.

“Who comes?” the Bishop asked, as was the custom.

“Charlemagne, Lord and King of the Holy Roman Empire,” proclaimed the Emperor’s proud herald.

“Him I know not,” the Bishop replied. “Who comes?”

The herald, a bit shaken, replied, “Charles the Great, a good and honest man of the earth.”

“Him I know not,” the Bishop said again. “Who comes?”

The herald, now completely crushed, responded, “Charles, a lowly sinner, who begs the gift of Christ.”

To which the Bishop, Christ’s representative, responded, “Enter! Receive Christ’s gift of life!”

The point, of course, is that in God’s eyes, we’re all equally in need.  Charlemagne, Mother Teresa, you and me.  None of us will ever be “good enough” to force entrance into the presence of God.

As the psalmist tells us, we know that our sin is ever before us.  We have all done what is evil in the sight of God.  Indeed, we are sinful beings, and all stand in need of the gift of grace.  And what a gift grace is—to receive forgiveness, to be redeemed and find mercy, to be restored and find new life—it is nothing short of a miracle.

There is a line in the Psalm when the writer says to God, “Against you, you alone, have I sinned.”  It’s not that we don’t sin against each other.  David certainly sinned against Uriah, Bathsheba’s husband, first by committing adultery and then by arranging his death.  Sin causes pain and grief and suffering; relationships are wounded and torn apart, trust is lost.  Sin can cause a kind of darkness to fall upon us, and sin can destroy lives.  Certainly, we sin against each other.  But what the psalmist is trying to say is that all sin—all sin is an affront to God.  Every time someone sins, it pains God; it hurts him.  Another way to look at it is that sin puts up a barrier between us mortals and the divine.  When we sin, we are disconnected from God; it severs the relationship, making us alone.  It is not God who does this, but ourselves, for sin always has consequences.

But God doesn’t want us to be alone.  Certainly, God does not want us to sin, but at the same time God is so willing to take us back, to restore the relationship, to forgive us and grant us mercy, to restore our lives and make in us a new creation.  It is the passion and resurrection of Christ played out in us over and over again, as we die to sin and are raised to new life through the glorious redemption offered through Jesus Christ.

Now, it is true that sometimes grace can come into our lives when we least expect it, when we certainly don’t deserve it, when we might not even be looking for it.  God is God after all.  But most of the time, pretty much all of the time, we first have to get ready to receive the gift of grace.  What I’m talking about is repentance.

We must repent of our sins.  It’s more than just saying you’re sorry. You have to mean it, and more than that, you have to do something about it. To repent is turn around, to make a 180 degree U turn, acknowledge your sin, make amends, and then start on a new path in the light.

I’m not going to lie to you.  Repentance is hard.  Sometimes our pride get in the way—know one likes to admit mistakes, that they’ve screwed up, that they have done something or not done something that has really hurt someone.  And then, sometimes acknowledging the sin isn’t what’s hard—we’ve all said we were sorry and didn’t really mean it.  We must make good on our promise to change.

The psalmist knows what God is after—a clean heart, a truthful spirit, a life oriented towards God.  Thus, we must purge the nastiness in our hearts.  We have to confess it, acknowledge it and get it out there.  We have to deal with the consequences of our actions, make reparations if needed, and be willing to open ourselves up to God—to be made new.

¹⁰Create in me a clean heart, O God,

and put a new and right spirit within me.

¹¹Do not cast me away from your presence,

and do not take your holy spirit from me.

¹²Restore to me the joy of your salvation,

and sustain in me a willing spirit.

But it doesn’t end there. Not only does the psalmist plead for forgiveness and ask for a clean heart—to be restored to new life, but also the psalmist pledges to live a changed life.  He will teach others the same; he will worship and praise and serve.  He will devote his life to the service of God, giving over his heart with a willingness to follow the Lord wherever that will take him.  The sacrifice that is acceptable to God is a broken spirit, a broken and contrite heart.  This is not a broken heart like when your girlfriend dumps you, but a heart that is yielding, a heart that is malleable, like clay in the potter’s hands, an open and humble vessel, ready to be filled.

           You see, my friends, to be forgiven is to be changed, to be transformed, to be redeemed.  In other words, when God comes into your life, your life will never again be the same.

Ron Trimmer is pastor of Hope United, a new church in Georgetown, Texas.  Click here to visit Hope United’s website.