Let The Ashes Remind Us Of The Flame By Ken Woodley
Ash Wednesday.
Ashes to ashes.
But what of the dust to dust?
The answer is no.
Ashes, yes, and some day our own.
But, not ever dust.
Never dust to dust.
And so our Lenten journey begins this night.
Forty days across the spirit meadows.
And 40 nights over the soul mountains to the shoreline of the Sea of Galilee with its gentle waves reaching toward us even now in its widening embrace.
A high tide of God’s love and grace.
Let us all walk together for these few moments on this day and night of ashes through the bright eternal flame of the life of Jesus, reaching back to the prophecy-filled centuries before his birth up to this very evening, this hour, this minute, this very second among these familiar wooden pews where we gather, not alone.
Never alone.
For there is, as always, one among us whom we cannot see but surely feel.
As sure as you are sitting here, and I am standing here, the Holy Spirit, the grace-filled presence of Jesus is among us, too. As brothers and sisters in Christ we assemble more than ourselves tonight within the outstretched arms of a waiting, loving God.
We each bring a spark of Christ within us to candle-flame the darkness and send it retreating from the face of our own flickering that summons strength for this journey.
Come, our footsteps together begin.
A shoot will come up from the branch of Jesse;
From his roots a branch will bear fruit.
The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him—the
Spirit of wisdom and understanding…
The wolf will lie with the lamb,
The leopard will lie down with the goat,
The calf and lion and the yearling together,
And a little child will lead them.
So let the ashes remind us of the flame.
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil for the Lord is with me.
His rod and staff, they comfort me.
So let the ashes remind us of the flame.
“And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night.
An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.
But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy for all the people.”
So let the ashes remind us of the flame.
“Here is my servant who I uphold, my chosen one in whom I delight.
I will put my Spirit on him and he will bring justice to the nations.
He will not shout or cry out or raise his voice in the streets.
A bruised reed he will not break
And a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.”
So let the ashes remind us of the flame.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”
So let the ashes remind us of the flame.
“When he came down from the mountainside, large crowds followed him. A man with leprosy came and knelt before him and said, “Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean.”
Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man.
“I am willing,” he said. “Be clean”
Immediately the man was cured.
So let the ashes remind us of the flame.
“I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. Before long, the world will not see me anymore, but you will see me. Because I live, you also will live. On that day you will realize that I am in my father, and you are in me, and I am in you. “
So let the ashes remind us of the flame.
It was now about the sixth hour, and darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour, for the sun stopped shining.
And the curtain in the temple was torn in two.
Jesus called out in a loud voice, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.”
When he had said this, he breathed his last.
So let the ashes remind us of the flame.
Early in the morning, Jesus stood on the shore but they did not realize that it was Jesus.
He called out to them, ‘Friends, haven’t you any fish?”
“No,” they answered.
He said, “Throw your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some.”
When they did they were unable to haul the net in because of the large number of fish.
So let the ashes remind us of the flame.
“No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.
We know that we live in him and he in us, because he has given us of his Spirit…
God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God and God in him.
There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out all fear.”
So let the ashes remind us of the flame.
“But whoever did want him, who believed he was who he claimed and would do what he said, He made to be their true selves, their child-of-God selves.
These are the God-begotten.”
So let the ashes remind us of the flame.
Ash Wednesday.
Ashes to ashes.
But no dust to dust.
Never dust.
Not ever.
So let the ashes on our foreheads remind us of the flame of Christ inside.
The Jesus mark.
These ashes of the inextinguishable flame.
May our Lenten journey be guided by this inner light toward the resurrection cross of blooming flowers
and the blossoms of God’s love.
That hallelujah garden our shepherd and savior
shows us has been planted by God and is growing deep inside each of us,
far beyond the vagaries and calamities of earthly weather.
No bone-dry drought can wither it to dust.
No raging flood can wash it away.
So, yes, let the ashes—and that includes all of the world’s ashes that we brought with us tonight, not simply the thumbprint of ashes crossed upon our foreheads.
Let all of these ashes remind us of the flame
as we leave here, departing on our Lenten journey into the ash-black darkness, but departing filled with light.
By Ken Woodley
Ash Wednesday.
Ashes to ashes.
But what of the dust to dust?
The answer is no.
Ashes, yes, and some day our own.
But, not ever dust.
Never dust to dust.
And so our Lenten journey begins this night.
Forty days across the spirit meadows.
And 40 nights over the soul mountains to the shoreline of the Sea of Galilee with its gentle waves reaching toward us even now in its widening embrace.
A high tide of God’s love and grace.
Let us all walk together for these few moments on this day and night of ashes through the bright eternal flame of the life of Jesus, reaching back to the prophecy-filled centuries before his birth up to this very evening, this hour, this minute, this very second among these familiar wooden pews where we gather, not alone.
Never alone.
For there is, as always, one among us whom we cannot see but surely feel.
As sure as you are sitting here, and I am standing here, the Holy Spirit, the grace-filled presence of Jesus is among us, too. As brothers and sisters in Christ we assemble more than ourselves tonight within the outstretched arms of a waiting, loving God.
We each bring a spark of Christ within us to candle-flame the darkness and send it retreating from the face of our own flickering that summons strength for this journey.
Come, our footsteps together begin.
A shoot will come up from the branch of Jesse;
From his roots a branch will bear fruit.
The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him—the Spirit of wisdom and understanding…
The wolf will lie with the lamb,
The leopard will lie down with the goat,
The calf and lion and the yearling together,
And a little child will lead them.
So let the ashes remind us of the flame.
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil for the Lord is with me.
His rod and staff, they comfort me.
So let the ashes remind us of the flame.
“And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night.
An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.
But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy for all the people.”
So let the ashes remind us of the flame.
“Here is my servant who I uphold, my chosen one in whom I delight.
I will put my Spirit on him and he will bring justice to the nations.
He will not shout or cry out or raise his voice in the streets.
A bruised reed he will not break
And a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.”
So let the ashes remind us of the flame.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”
So let the ashes remind us of the flame.
“When he came down from the mountainside, large crowds followed him. A man with leprosy came and knelt before him and said, “Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean.”
Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man.
“I am willing,” he said. “Be clean”
Immediately the man was cured.
So let the ashes remind us of the flame.
“I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. Before long, the world will not see me anymore, but you will see me. Because I live, you also will live. On that day you will realize that I am in my father, and you are in me, and I am in you. “
So let the ashes remind us of the flame.
It was now about the sixth hour, and darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour, for the sun stopped shining.
And the curtain in the temple was torn in two.
Jesus called out in a loud voice, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.”
When he had said this, he breathed his last.
So let the ashes remind us of the flame.
Early in the morning, Jesus stood on the shore but they did not realize that it was Jesus.
He called out to them, ‘Friends, haven’t you any fish?”
“No,” they answered.
He said, “Throw your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some.”
When they did they were unable to haul the net in because of the large number of fish.
So let the ashes remind us of the flame.
“No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.
We know that we live in him and he in us, because he has given us of his Spirit…
God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God and God in him.
There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out all fear.”
So let the ashes remind us of the flame.
“But whoever did want him, who believed he was who he claimed and would do what he said, He made to be their true selves, their child-of-God selves.
These are the God-begotten.”
So let the ashes remind us of the flame.
Ash Wednesday.
Ashes to ashes.
But no dust to dust.
Never dust.
Not ever.
So let the ashes on our foreheads remind us of the flame of Christ inside.
The Jesus mark.
These ashes of the inextinguishable flame.
May our Lenten journey be guided by this inner light toward the resurrection cross of blooming flowers and the blossoms of God’s love.
That hallelujah garden our shepherd and savior
shows us has been planted by God and is growing deep inside each of us,
far beyond the vagaries and calamities of earthly weather.
No bone-dry drought can wither it to dust.
No raging flood can wash it away.
So, yes, let the ashes—and that includes all of the world’s ashes that we brought with us tonight, not simply the thumbprint of ashes crossed upon our foreheads.
Let all of these ashes remind us of the flame as we leave this moment, departing on our Lenten journey into the ash-black darkness, but departing filled with light.
Ken Woodley 