Joel 2:1-2, 12-17/II Corinthians 5:20b-6:10
February 18, 2026
In this month’s issue of The
Christian Century, editor and publisher, Peter W. Marty, briefly tells the
story of Bette Nesmith Graham. You may not have heard her name before, but you
have probably seen her invention – Liquid Paper. If you are old enough to
remember working on a typewriter rathe than a computer, you have probably used
Liquid Paper to correct mistakes or typos.
Graham was a single mother and
painter in Texas. To support her child and herself, she worked as a secretary
at a bank in the 1950’s. She was an artist not a typist, so it is not
surprising that she made mistakes in her work. Again, if you have ever used a
typewriter, you know that fixing errors is challenging. Graham realized that
painters did not try to erase their mistakes on canvas. They just painted over
them. So, she took a fast drying white tempera paint and would spend her
evenings experimenting with mixing the paint and other substances, such as
starch and resin, to make a liquid that could cover typos and dry fast. Liquid
Paper. A mistake that she didn’t catch cost her the secretary job, but she went
on to launch a multi-million dollar business instead.
As
an aside, when I first read Marty’s column I thought that Graham’s story
sounded familiar. But it wasn’t until I focused on the name Nesmith that I
figured it out. Brent told me this story from the perspective of her son,
Michael, or as some us know him, Mike. Mike Nesmith, one of the four members of
the group The Monkees. In fact he was my favorite Monkee.
However, back to Bette Nesmith
Graham, Marty writes that it would be good if the inspiration of Graham’s
Liquid Paper “could somehow translate into a similar invention for fixing our
moral and spiritual lives.” How much easier would it be if we could swipe
spiritual Liquid Paper over our mistakes, our errors, our flaws, and our
foibles? How much better would it be if we could cover up our sin with a
supernatural brush? But as Marty indicates, covering up our offenses is not the
point of the Christian life. And this day, Ash Wednesday, brings that truth
into sharp relief.
I realize that Ash Wednesday as a
church holy day is not found in scripture. But confession is. Penitence is.
Wearing sackcloth and covering one’s head with ashes is. Ashes are an ancient
sign of remorse, regret, and sorrow. Over and over again, through story,
through songs, and through the prophetic voice, the people of God are called to
pour ashes on their heads to show God, to show others, and to show themselves
that they have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.
So we observe Ash Wednesday for that
same purpose. We wear ashes to show God, to show others, and to show ourselves
that we have sinned and fallen short. But this is also why Ash Wednesday is
probably not everyone’s favorite day on the church calendar. Our daughter, who
has been a participant in many Ash Wednesday services, told me once that she
really doesn’t like this day or this service. To her it is depressing and kind
of a downer. And I know that Phoebe is not alone in thinking this. Several
years ago, I read about a trend that was focused on making this day more
palatable, nicer, easier to bear. Glitter was being added to the ashes, so they
became more of a cool fashion statement rather than a sign of penitence.
While that initially sounds kind of
cool, the reality is that this day is a day, the day where we are
invited to stop fooling ourselves, to stop denying what we have done and what
we have left undone. Today we are called to confront ourselves; to see
ourselves with blinders off. We are called to face the sins we have committed
and the harm we have caused – to others and to ourselves. It’s not comfortable
nor is it easy to do this. But, especially as we begin the season of Lent, this
season when we walk step by fateful step to the cross, it may just be
necessary.
There is also discomfort around this
day because our liturgy and our spiritual practices declare in no uncertain
terms that death is the outcome of life. And I realize, the older I get, that denial
about death is rampant, in my own life and in others. So, yes, I can see why
our daughter and other folks see this service and this day as a downer. It
seems to scream, “We are sinners! We will die!”
But I no longer hear these words as
a scream, rant, or wail. I hear them as a statement of fact; and it’s not a
fact designed to cause fear, but to turn us around. Ash Wednesday quietly but
firmly states that we are sinners and yes we will die. Remember that from dust
we came and to dust we will return. But we come to this day and this service so
that we can turn around.
The prophet Joel writes, “Yet even
now, says the Lord, return to me with all your heart.” Return to me with all
your heart. Return to me with all your heart. Turn around, turn back, reverse
course. It seems that God longs for us to repent of our sins and our misdeeds,
our mistakes and our offenses, not because God wants to smash us into oblivion like
a supernatural foot stomps out a bug, but because God wants to welcome us back
with open arms. But first we must stop kidding ourselves and admit, as the
psalmist admits, that we know our transgressions and we know that our sin is
ever before us. God wants to, as the psalmist sings, create in us a clean heart
and put new and right spirits within us. Ash Wednesday compels us to do just
that.
And it compels us to face our own
mortality. It would be easier and less painful to skip over Lent and go right
to Easter. It would be easier to overlook the cross and move directly to the
empty tomb. But resurrection does not happen without death. New life is born
out of dying. And I’m not just referring to life after life, that eternal life
that we all look toward someday in the future. The fullness of life in God that
Jesus came to bring to fruition happens in the here and now. But we can only
make space for that fullness of life when we acknowledge the dust that is our
beginning and the dust that is our end.
I cannot think of how many times I
have read about someone diagnosed with a terminal illness who claims that they
didn’t begin to fully live until they understood and accepted that they would really
die. I don’t want you to think that I am minimizing death or suffering or the
grief and the trauma that comes with it. Too many of God’s beloved children die
too young. Too many of God’s beloved children suffer needlessly, and needless
suffering is just that – needless. God does not glory in that kind of
suffering. I’m not asking us to run headlong toward death, just that we bear
the truth that it will happen. And that we bear the truth that the suffering of
God’s children is too often connected to our corporate sin, to that which we
have done and that which we have left undone.
Tonight we face these two truths: we
are sinners and we will die. But even now God is calling us to return to him.
Even now God is calling us to rend our hearts. Even now God longs to welcome us
home. And when we accept the truth of death, then we can truly live. When we
accept the truth of death, we can also see how very beautiful and fragile and
awesome this life we have been given is.
No, this is not a happy go-lucky
service of worship. But I am so grateful for its power to help me see more
clearly my shortcoming through the lens of God’s grace and my life through the
dust. From dust we came and to dust we return. Thanks be to God.
Amen and amen.
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