Humility and Transformation

We all seek to be in control of our lives. We are raised and encouraged to do this—to take ownership of the narrative of who we are and, thereby, write our own ticket. Losing or being out of control is something to be avoided or corrected. And once we perceive we’ve taken the reigns, that we are calling the shots, control is not something we are willing to give up.

But the truth of the matter is that unexpected loss and unavoidable tragedy shatter any and all illusions of control. Try as we may to stay healthy or prolong our time on this earth, we remain powerless to stop the gradual breakdown, the inevitable expiration of our bodies. Any notion or sense that we are the masters of our own destinies is eventually challenged when we confront the shadow of death.

The fantasy of self-determination is an attractive one. As we seek to live on our own terms—eating, drinking, and making merry for as long as possible—we push the uncertain and unavoidable out of sight and out of mind. But there is another posture we can take, another path we can follow. One that, in daring to confront the darkness in our lives, can lead us beyond the shadow of the grave into the glory of an eternal horizon set before us by our Creator.

The first step of this journey begins every year on a day known as Ash Wednesday. Ash Wednesday initiates an annual forty-day period known as Lent—a season of remembering and being reoriented to who we are and who we can be, all because of who God always is. The starting line of this road we walk by faith is that of ashes.

Ashes represent the dust from which we came. Long ago, out of the residue of the cosmic elements from which the earth, sea, and sky were made, our Creator shaped the form of our humanity, breathed the Spirit of God into us, and imparted the reflection of divine glory by giving us life. Ashes remind us that apart from the goodness of God, we would not exist. Ashes underscore the fragility and limitations of human life—that to dust we shall return—when divorced from the grace of our Creator.

But the ashes of our misfires and mistakes, our regrets and losses, are not all we have. Humanity’s trajectory, which initially appears shortlived, gains the means of going the distance as our Creator comes down to turn the ending of our story into a new beginning. Through Jesus, God blazes a trail through the fragmented nature of our lives, extending forgiveness and healing and offering the promise of abiding hope. Promise becomes reality as God in Christ willingly embraces our brokenness on a Cross to bring beauty out of our ashes.

No longer entombed by fear and failures, we are invited to rise and shine out of the grace and assurance of new life. Rather than give up before the obstacles and challenges we encounter along the way, we are encouraged to wait and to witness how God can transform dead ends into doorways of new and unforeseen possibilities. Not in our own strength or wisdom but guided and empowered by the gift of God’s Spirit, we are beckoned to follow, we are called to retrace the footsteps of Jesus. To love as he loves. To forgive as he forgives. To serve as he serves. To die to ourselves in order to raise each other up “just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life” (Romans 6:4).

It can be tempting to skip ahead and come in at the end of the road Jesus travels—the brightness and joy of Easter. But as our Creator reminds us through the rhythm of the seasons, there is no way around the dead of winter. We have to walk through the darkness to witness the dawn of the light, the coming of springtime. Facing our mortality without denial or distraction—including all the many deaths we will endure long before we put a foot in the grave—is where we must always begin to start living and experiencing the life that God invites us into. Being released from worrying about the future, let us no longer keep trying to work out our plans for tomorrow. Instead, with eternity in our hearts, let us receive each breath and every day as a gift to treasure and steward to the glory of God.

We all seek to be in control of our lives. We are raised and encouraged to do this—to take ownership of the narrative of who we are and, thereby, write our own ticket. Losing or being out of control is something to be avoided or corrected. And once we perceive we’ve taken the reigns, that we are calling the shots, control is not something we are willing to give up.

But the truth of the matter is that unexpected loss and unavoidable tragedy shatter any and all illusions of control. Try as we may to stay healthy or prolong our time on this earth, we remain powerless to stop the gradual breakdown, the inevitable expiration of our bodies. Any notion or sense that we are the masters of our own destinies is eventually challenged when we confront the shadow of death.

The fantasy of self-determination is an attractive one. As we seek to live on our own terms—eating, drinking, and making merry for as long as possible—we push the uncertain and unavoidable out of sight and out of mind. But there is another posture we can take, another path we can follow. One that, in daring to confront the darkness in our lives, can lead us beyond the shadow of the grave into the glory of an eternal horizon set before us by our Creator.

The first step of this journey begins every year on a day known as Ash Wednesday. Ash Wednesday initiates an annual forty-day period known as Lent—a season of remembering and being reoriented to who we are and who we can be, all because of who God always is. The starting line of this road we walk by faith is that of ashes.

Ashes represent the dust from which we came. Long ago, out of the residue of the cosmic elements from which the earth, sea, and sky were made, our Creator shaped the form of our humanity, breathed the Spirit of God into us, and imparted the reflection of divine glory by giving us life. Ashes remind us that apart from the goodness of God, we would not exist. Ashes underscore the fragility and limitations of human life—that to dust we shall return—when divorced from the grace of our Creator.

But the ashes of our misfires and mistakes, our regrets and losses, are not all we have. Humanity’s trajectory, which initially appears shortlived, gains the means of going the distance as our Creator comes down to turn the ending of our story into a new beginning. Through Jesus, God blazes a trail through the fragmented nature of our lives, extending forgiveness and healing and offering the promise of abiding hope. Promise becomes reality as God in Christ willingly embraces our brokenness on a Cross to bring beauty out of our ashes.

No longer entombed by fear and failures, we are invited to rise and shine out of the grace and assurance of new life. Rather than give up before the obstacles and challenges we encounter along the way, we are encouraged to wait and to witness how God can transform dead ends into doorways of new and unforeseen possibilities. Not in our own strength or wisdom but guided and empowered by the gift of God’s Spirit, we are beckoned to follow, we are called to retrace the footsteps of Jesus. To love as he loves. To forgive as he forgives. To serve as he serves. To die to ourselves in order to raise each other up “just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life” (Romans 6:4).

It can be tempting to skip ahead and come in at the end of the road Jesus travels—the brightness and joy of Easter. But as our Creator reminds us through the rhythm of the seasons, there is no way around the dead of winter. We have to walk through the darkness to witness the dawn of the light, the coming of springtime. Facing our mortality without denial or distraction—including all the many deaths we will endure long before we put a foot in the grave—is where we must always begin to start living and experiencing the life that God invites us into. Being released from worrying about the future, let us no longer keep trying to work out our plans for tomorrow. Instead, with eternity in our hearts, let us receive each breath and every day as a gift to treasure and steward to the glory of God.