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Ash Wednesday: A Poem

I never come to Lent prepared.

Like much of life,
I want to be ready but
the little sandy dirty bits
slowly clog the well-intentioned machinery I’ve built in my desires.

How funny it is when I enter
the sanctuary and see the pretty pottery
holding the ashes of last year’s hopes–
cold and damp–
ready to impose themselves on our minds,
laughing at the clean faces
and white shirts:
“When we’re done with you,
you’ll be dirty and soiled…
and you’ll thank us for it!”

But this is the fast,
whether we chose it or not,
and even if we never darken the door of worship today
it still haunts and stirs
because you chose it,
you chose us,
and this is not our time.

About expatminister

Aren't we what we repeatedly love? My wife, being GeekDad to the 4 superkids, United Methodist pastoring, Texas, science fiction and other nerdy pursuits, words (speaking, listening, writing, reading), Britain, music, camping, tech, baseball, practicing theology. Jesus. Coffee.

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  1. […] have pretty high hopes for Lent every year. “This is the year I’ll finally be self-disciplined!” Or, “I […]

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