Marked for God’s New Beginning

 

On May 18, 1980 Mt. St. Helens erupted, blowing the top off of the 1,314 foot tall mountain. The avalanche of rocks filled the Toutle (Toot-el) River Valley, creating a 23-square-mile zone of barren land. Another blast flattened the surrounding forest, and a cloud of ash reached to 80,000 feet in 15 minutes, circling the globe in 15 days. The volcano destroyed everything in its path, killing 230 square miles of forests, lakes, meadows and streams. 57 people and countless animals and plants were killed. The Oregonian newspaper reported, “Death is everywhere. The living are not welcome.” But if you travel there today, you will find more than 150 species of wildflowers, shrubs and trees. There are even Western hemlock and Pacific silver fir trees that aren’t even supposed to be there yet. They usually require the kind of soil amended by generations of other plant growth. The newspaper would now have to report that “Life is everywhere. The living are thriving.” Virginia Dale, one of the first ecologists to land at Mt. St. Helens after it erupted, is quoted as saying, “It seems life can take hold even in the most desolate landscape, and in ways no scientist could have foreseen.”

On this holy day which marks the first day of Lent, we prepare to be marked with ashes—the dust of death. To some this ashen mark seems to have nothing to do with faith and hope, and more to do with grief and desolation. For some all this talk of self-examination, confession, repentance, and absolution may seem like a morbid, somber exercise. After all, why focus on the dust of death while life is all around us?  There is  life all around us. But right alongside that life exists the very real, life-smothering forces of injustice, oppression, violence, greed, poverty, and hunger. Alongside the joys of our lives comes the little desolations of anger, broken relationships, bitterness, resentment, and selfishness that can threaten smother our connection to God and one another.

When Jesus teaches his disciples to pray the Lord’s prayer, he knows that the ashes of this life can cover some serious ground. He knows that this world is not an easy place, and that sometimes, for so many in our world, it can seem as though death is everywhere, as though hope is not welcome. So when Jesus teaches them how to pray, He gives his disciples, and us, the tools to be gardeners for hope. He calls us to go beyond the ashes, and to till of the kind of spiritual soil in which life can take hold, survive, and thrive. For Jesus knew something about ashes that we often forget: they are not the end. Like the Western hemlock and Pacific silver fir trees that refused to wait for generations to take root, we are meant to defy hopelessness and root ourselves in God’s merciful love. In receiving we make way for God’s Kingdom of love to blossom here and now.

But we can’t do this alone. The kind of forgiveness and reconciliation required for God’s Kingdom to thrive in this world is not easy. It is not easy for us to be honest about our weaknesses and pain. It is hard to find our way out of the desolation of bitterness and anger that can consume us when we are hurt by others. Giving up our own comfort so that others may have what they need does not always come naturally to us. Speaking out against all kinds of injustice can be uncomfortable and risky. And yet this is what Christ calls us to do as gardeners for hope. When we get down on our knees and offer up our brokenness, we are transformed by the One who knows something about ashes and desolation that we often forget. They are not the end. When we come to the altar to ask for forgiveness, we are invited to leave behind everything that stands in the way of God’s healing love. We are invited to leave behind our bitterness, anger, selfishness, greed, and resentment, and go out into the world as bearers of hope. We are invited to open ourselves to God and to the needs of others, so that we can go out planting the seeds of God’s healing in our communities. When we come to the altar we find our identity. We know we are God’s beloved. When we come, we find our purpose—to bring God’s healing love into this broken world. When we come we find our security, knowing that we don’t need to acquire things or status to thrive, because we have one another. When we come we find community. We belong to one another because we are all God’s children, bound together by one bread and one cup. When we come to the altar we find freedom and peace, knowing that the temptation and suffering in this life is not the end.

So as we come to be marked by ashes on this holy day, may we know that they are a sign, not of the end, but of God’s new beginning. We are marked by our identity as gardeners for hope because we know something about ashes that some may not realize—God can bring life even into the most desolate places. Ashes mark us with the earthly dust that springs forth from what Bruce Epperly calls "God’s multi-billion year holy adventure".  Where the world reports, “Death is everywhere. The living are not welcome,” we may proclaim “Love is everywhere. All are welcome”. So remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return. You are marked for God’s new beginning. Amen.