In my faintest memories I still remember my father looking into my eyes and marking my forehead with Ash.  As the sign of the cross marked me as God’s own, he spoke, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”  To hear my father say these words while participating in this ancient ritual was way too confusing for one so young.  I didn’t want to think about death.  I didn’t want to go there, but year after year I did.
    It wasn’t until I had grown to near maturity and had experienced some of the hard-knocks of life that I began to know why I went there.  In fact, it was an odd feeling to want to go there.  To be drawn into the realm of the Spiritual and hear those words, feel the gritty symbol placed upon my skin, and walk away with this urge to wipe it off quickly, it was both disturbing and comforting at the same time.  I still didn’t really understand.  In my first appointment I learned why.
    I was blessed to work with a seasoned pastor whose understanding of life and ministry shaped my own life and ministry in ways that continue to be a blessing to others and me.  Our first Ash Wednesday service he shared with me that he had adapted the traditional saying during imposition by adding just four words, and yet they made the difference for me.
    “Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.  But life in faith.”
    Every year since I remember.  I remember that I am dust, but I also remember the sense of confusion as a child.  I remember the years of coming to the communion rail on my knees and not understanding but coming anyway.  I remember the sense of urgency that came and still comes on Ash Wednesday.  I remember, and I can remember because those last four words capture for me the hope the lenten journey upon which we embark.

    Though this scripture comes into use in the very last days of this season, I often start the season remembering the scene of Jesus and the thieves on their crosses. (Luke 23: 32-43)  The two thieves are on either side and one gets smart with Jesus calling Him to prove that he is the Messiah. “If you are the One, then save yourself and us!”  But the other thief claim the Truth.  Jesus is innocent.  Then this same thief looks at Jesus and says, “Jesus remember me when you come into Your Kingdom.”  To which Jesus replies, “Today you will be with me in paradise.”
    These three knew that indeed they would die.  They would soon return to dust, and yet there were two there who lived in faith.  The one thief, in requesting salvation, put his faith and trust in Jesus, and in doing so lived on.  Jesus on that cross placed His trust in God’s plan and lived on.
    “Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return, but life in faith.”

    As we receive the Ash on our foreheads this day, dare we go to that place where we remember?  Dare we reflect upon why in God’s name we remember that we will all die?  If we do, it might creep us out a bit, bring about some confusion, and even draw us toward a place that makes us uncomfortable, but it also might bring us to know that faith that carries us through to new life.  It might bring us to grasp hold of God’s hand, trust in God’s plan, and live on.”

    Dare we go there?    ...Dare we not?

Smelling Grace

   They say that the olfactory system is one of most powerful and influential aspects of our bodies.  Through our sense of smell, our lives are enhanced, not just in what and how we taste, but smells can trigger emotions and memories that dig deep and pull us into other realms.

    I start out most days at the office in quiet time with God, and part of this centering ritual is to burn candles and incense.  Often folks walk by and ask, “Is something burning?,” and just as often folks will enter the space and say, “I love the smell of your office.”  There is a calming affect in using incense.
    The tradition of the church is that incense is burned as a reminder that God permeates everything.  As the priest walks through the congregation swinging a Thurible, or censer, the smells of the incense waft over the congregation, and as we breath in an out, we are reminded that God is even in the air we breath.  Smell is a powerful aspect of our bodies.
    In the same sense, there is a tradition in the Church that we use anointing oil.  We use it to seal our children at Baptism in the death and resurrection of Christ.  We use it as a sign of healing for those who are sick, and as an assurance of the life and presence of Christ with us at all times.  Often such oils are scented.
    I have found such oils to be powerful reminders of the grace of God, and my choice of scents is “Frankincense and Myrrh”.   In addition to the uniqueness of the smell, there’s also something a Biblical about this choice, for these were part of the first gifts given the God when God emerged on the scene.
    As a pastor, when I anoint a baby at Baptism or anoint a youth or adult along the journey, the smell of that blessing lingers, not just on them but upon me.  It stays with me, and as I go through the day, I am reminded of God’s blessing upon the Body and specifically upon me.  The smell is a powerful reminder of the grace of God for me.
   
    This past Wednesday was Ash Wednesday, the first day of the liturgical season of Lent.  On that day we were marked by the ashes of burned palm fronds from last Palm Sunday.  The sign of the cross was placed

on the forehead, and we are reminded of God’s presence with us, even into death.
    When one prepares the ashes for worship, one adds oils.  I add Frankincense and Myrrh, the very same oils that we use for anointing.  The very same smell which symbolizes the constant grace of God in our lives, is the very smell which reminds us that along the journey God is always there.
    For this Lent, one of the disciplines I have taken on is to take a little of this same oil and mark my forehead.  To being the day with an anointing, then rubbing a bit on my hands, and as I do, the smells take over.  The emotions and memories of God’s working in my life are triggered, and I am reminded why I am on this journey of Lent.  Much like the hunger pangs that strike while fasting, when my mind becomes cognizant of that smell again, I allow it to be a reminder to say a prayer of thanks for God’s love and sacrifice.  In the process, I smell God’s grace, and I realign myself with the One who died for me.

Where do you “smell God’s grace” in your life?  What is a way in which you might establish “a trigger” that reminds you that you are loved?