Lent officially began with the observation of Ash Wednesday, a day for Christians to confess their sins and receive ashes on their foreheads in the shape of a cross. Ashes were a reminder of death, so when people were in mourning or received tragic news, they would put ashes over themselves. So, on Ash Wednesday, we confront the tragic news that because of our sins we deserve death and receive ashes on us in the shape of the cross. The cross reminds us that Jesus died in our place, and that if we confess our sins he will forgive them, so that although our mortal bodies will turn to dust one day, our souls can rise with Him in resurrection. This symbolic action of ashes begins our journey of Lent
The early church initiated a period of 40 days before Easter called Lent to remind themselves of Jesus’ sacrifice for them by sacrifices of fasting and acts of self-denial. Lent isn’t a scripturally defined event; you won’t find it in the Bible. But, in the Bible, the number 40 was symbolic of testing, or trial. Jesus was tempted by Satan in the wilderness 40 days immediately after His baptism as an extreme test of His ability to resist sin. When the Israelites refused to enter the Promised Land, they had to wander in the desert 40 years, testing their willingness to obey God before He would let them enter. So, fasting and prayer, eating fish on Friday, and abstinence during the 40 days leading up to Easter, are traditions that are ways of reinforcing Lenten ideals of sacrifice and testing. More recent practices, rather than self-denial, have been to help others, celebrating God’s saving love. But, no matter how we choose to observe Lent, it’s still a time of preparing ourselves to understand Jesus’ sacrifice and His victory of Easter.
When we prepare for any significant event, like Easter or Christmas, we prepare so we’re ready to appreciate the meaning and importance of that event. Lent allows us a time to do an honest self-examination of our lives, our souls, to assess our readiness to share in His Resurrection. Looking for the cracks and defects that need Jesus’ healing in our lives. Our theme for the past Ash Wednesday was Just As I Am. Lent’s not about trying to have God see us as we want to be seen. We don’t visit the Emergency Room to convince the doctor we’re healthy. We tell the doctor what’s wrong, where we hurt, to begin a process of healing. Just as in Lent we need to confess that we have sinned, acknowledging that our souls need healing.
So that’s our starting point, admitting we’re broken. Many people are afraid to admit we’re broken because we don’t want to face the consequences of our brokenness. We want to be healed, not be measured for a coffin, for those sins. We don’t want to hear that we’re no longer of any value, that we should be thrown away. We want to be told we have value, that there is still purpose and meaning for our lives.
There’s a growing market for recycled materials today. Materials that might have been otherwise considered useless, now being recycled to other continuing uses. My favorite example is the Navy USS New York, LPD 21, commissioned in 2007, a very modern warship very useful in supporting global anti-terrorism missions. But the significance of this ship was that 6.8 tons of the steel used in that ship's construction came from the rubble of the World Trade Center after the 9/11 attack. Steel that was melted down in foundries and crafted by steelworkers who reportedly treated it with "a reverence usually accorded to religious relics." One worker even delayed his retirement after 40 years of working to be part of the project. But, on November 2, 2009 the newly commissioned ship passed the World Trade Center site for the first time, rendering a 21-gun salute. The tons of scrap metal, once seen as the defeated aftermath of a terrorist attack, were now recycled to be even more than an icon of hope and strength to stand against terrorism - but an effective weapon against evil.
As a modern parable of such recycling, there was once a medium sized church that had a very nice, well used altar area with a communion rail, an altar, a main pulpit, and a smaller pulpit for other speakers. It was large enough to stage a medium sized choir and musical instruments. But the Admin Board decided the aging altar area needed to be bigger so it could accommodate a modern performing arts area. So, the communion rail, the larger pulpit, and the altar were scheduled for demolition. A carpenter approached the contractor to ask what they planned to do with the wood. He was told the wood was old, with scratches and dents that had accumulated over the years. The mahogany, maple, and birch woods had no further use and would be sent to the scrap pile. The carpenter was distressed by the value he saw in the wood, even if others didn’t. So he volunteered to take the wood to his shop instead.
The carpenter used the wood to make sentimental gifts, like clocks for retiring staff members, Christmas gifts, and useful items around the church. But to do that, the carpenter had to trim the wood, carefully reshaping it make the needed parts, sand them, glue, and nail them to meet his specifications. The consequent gifts were treasured by those receiving them, not just for their function, but knowing the source of the wood that gave them significantly more value than just the cost of the materials. What had been doomed for the scrap pile, in the hands of the carpenter had been recycled to find new value, new purpose, to bring joy to others.
Lent is a time of knowing we’re broken, like the scrap steel suffering from a terrorist attack, or the church wood judged as having no further value, despite years of faithful service. Then putting ourselves in the Savior’s Hands, we are made whole and useful once again.
Jeremiah is shown this in our OT lesson. He is told to receive God’s message of prophecy at the potter’s house. There, he observes a potter shaping clay at his wheel. As he watches, the potter’s work becomes marred, so the potter starts over, reshaping the clay to be the pot he felt was best. God reveals that this message is for Israel, that He is the potter shaping Israel. If He had decided to destroy a nation, but the nation repented, He would relent and not inflict disaster, like a marred pot that could be reshaped instead of discarded. But if God had wanted to build up that nation, but the nation proved to be evil, God would reconsider the good He had planned, like destroying a pot that had become marred. Like Israel, we are like clay in God’s Hands. Although seen as marred or sinful, if we repent and ask forgiveness, God will show mercy and relent from His judgement. He can take our brokenness and restore us. But we mustn’t miss the other side of the message, that the righteous will not escape His judgement if they fail and refuse to repent. They will not be forgiven.
Only in God’s Hands do we have value. In our Hymn of Preparation, we sang “Have Thine Own Way, Lord. Thou art the potter, I am the clay. Mold me and make me after Thy Will, While I am waiting, yielded and still”. In His Hands we’re shaped and molded to become what meets His Will, and even if we become marred while He is shaping us, He can reshape us to overcome that defect, or make major changes. But it matters whose hands we put ourselves in. A football may cost only $50 to make, but when it’s put in the hands of a Tom Brady, it may be worth thousands. In the hands of our Master Potter, a blob of clay with little value becomes a piece of fine china, A blob of clay isn’t worth much. Some will see only mud, but God sees the potential of a fine piece of china. When we put ourselves in the hands of our Savior, forgiven of our sins, we’re priceless to Him.
Lent is a time of putting ourselves in God’s Hands, surrendering ourselves to let Him shape and mold us, even if He has to make changes during that time of molding. But Lent is also a time when we may realize that we had once been molded according to His will, but in our self-examination, we find ourselves doubting our value. We may see that face in the mirror that was once smooth and clear, now old and wrinkled. We feel like the world sees us like that church wood, beyond what others consider as useful. But in God’s hands, He sees those wrinkles as character, gray hair as a badge of wisdom. Because God sees us as that carpenter saw the church wood, able to be reshaped as a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, a gift to a faithful church servant made from the communion rail he once leaned on, or the wood she remembered as the pulpit the pastor used to preach a special Gospel message, or wood from the altar they stood before to make their wedding vows. Seen as more than scrap wood, they had value as priceless pieces of God’s handiwork.
We may also see ourselves as broken, shattered by our own mistakes, bearing the consequences of our failures, or scarred by the cruel blows of life, leaving a once ‘fine piece of china’ chipped, cracked, or in pieces. Like the once proud steel of the Twin Towers now reduced to rubble after an undeserved attack, no longer being seen as scrap, but recycled to be the steel giving strength to that ship, symbolizing power, hope, and pride in spite of having been a twisted reminder of defeat. In the Hands of the Savior, even broken lives are priceless to Him as their confessed sins are forgiven. As the final verse of that hymn “Have Thine Own Way” says, “Filled with His Spirit, till all shall see, Christ only, always, living in me.”
Paul expresses similar thoughts in our NT lesson from 2 Corinthians, saying “we no longer regard anyone from a worldly point of view. Though we once saw Christ this way, we do so no longer.” Now, as Paul says, the old is gone the new is here. If anyone is in Christ, they are a new creation. Christ’s ambassadors, as if He were making His appeal to the world through us. Reconciling the world to God, not counting people’s sins against them. Recycled from brokenness that once doomed us, to become new creations in Christ.
Jesus was seen in many different ways. To the Pharisees, he was a blasphemer, a law breaker, a heretic. To some, the Messiah to conquer Rome. To the sick, a healer. But on that cross, the world saw Him as broken. No longer a threat to the Pharisees, or hope for the Messiah seekers. Just a criminal, with life ebbing from His broken body. At least for three days, until He emerged from that tomb. Healed! Alive! The Messiah! We see the once mourning, broken lives that were changed the moment he emerged from that tomb. Beginning with Mary Magdalene, weeping and broken outside the tomb, mourning the loss of her best friend one moment, the next clinging to his nail scarred feet lest he go away again. Thomas, filled with doubts one minute, touching Jesus’ nail scarred hands and pierced side the next, proclaiming, “My Lord and My God.”
I recently did a funeral for Bob, a former neighbor of ours. He had been physically broken – brain tumor as a teen with diabetes, later cancer, stroke, heart attack, family problems. From brief conversations, though, I knew he was a believer. At his funeral, the family requested the song, “The Only Scars in Heaven. It’s a beautiful song about a loved one who had died, bearing the many scars of life. But those loved ones find comfort knowing the only scars in heaven were on the hands of the One holding their loved one now. It was the perfect song for Bob, broken in life but now held in the only scarred hands in heaven.
In the Communion we are about to celebrate are the words, Take, eat, this is my body, broken for you. Eat, in remembrance of me. Remember that He was broken for us. That even if we are broken in this life, we are new creations in Christ, because He was broken for us, even if we only find our healing in Heaven with Him. But in heaven, we’ll all be recycled to new life, new purpose, where there is no dying, no tears, no death. In the hands of the only One with scars. Amen.
