My earliest memory of Ash Wednesday was walking myself through the shelter belt that sat between our home and that of my grandparents. I wanted to go to the Ash Wednesday service, but my family had something else going on and wouldn't be attending... so I phoned my grandma and went with her instead. It was before I really even understood the meaning of the ashes, but from what the priest had mentioned on Sunday, it sounded like fun.
I remember being confused that we were going "to the altar" twice that night... once, in a solemn procession for ashes to be imposed and once for the Eucharist. And, while I wish I could say that I came home and read up about the ancient tradition of black marks on the forehead, it took me years to come to understand the true beauty and humility of the evening service.
Perhaps it was the evening worship that kept drawing me back... something different from the regular Sunday morning at 9am; perhaps it was the "busyness" of getting to leave the pew more than once during the hour, or perhaps it was that feeling of "something more" that continued to pull me back, year after year.
I recall attending a retreat as a young adult in which the organizational structure of the weekend was a compressed journey through Lent/Easter. If I recall correctly, we walked through a live (people version) stations of the cross before returning to the common area for a service of ashes. It was one of the most moving services to date. Like in the hymn we sang every year at this service, "We offer You our failures, we offer You attempts; the gifts not fully given, the dreams not fully dreamt. Give our stumblings direction, give our visions wider view, an offering of ashes... an offering to You", it was the first time I really felt God's gentle voice, calling me to follow. I came away from that weekend knowing that I needed to leave the comfort of my childhood church to expand my horizons.
While I don't regret this move in the slightest, I cannot help but feel that I am stumbling. I am happy to trade shifts with coworkers so that they can have Sunday off with their family rather than ensuring I, myself, can attend church. When asked a challenging question in bible study or an interactive sermon, I would rather reflect inward than process outwardly within that community.
So, in returning to that hymn that has taken such a wonderful place in my journey, this Lenten season will be a season of offerings; a time in which I can offer attempts of prayer in the hope that over the coming 40 days, God will help my hindrances, ease my "awkwardnesses", and turn my failures into an eventual return to comfort and love through prayer/time with God.
May these 40 days be a time of renewal and new life from the ashes.
Yours in prayer,
Young Seeker
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