As I sat in Ash Wednesday service this evening, it was brought to my attention that there were millions who did the same today.  It moved me to think of the human race all with ashes on their foreheads representing individual and communal lamentation.

I love traditions, especially ones that have been passed down over thousands of years. There is a rich legacy in this day around the world that should not be taken lightly. In the past few years, I have removed myself from the common lenten practices of giving something up, fasting, or taking something on.  For me it became a crutch to my addiction: I must do lent perfectly; if I miss a day or don't do something right, I will fail and disappoint. 

Don't get me wrong, lent is about the discipline of showing up to a practice that is chosen with discernment and contemplation in the Spirit.  But the process that seeped through for me became more about my performance for God than opening myself up to God.

As I sat there tonight listening to the pastor talk about being open to God, I was moved to tears because I have been in a season of lament for a while. I want the darkness to be turned into light (the sooner the better).  Fortunately, I am not the keeper of light or time, so this has not happened yet, but I do feel like dawn is approaching.  That is the feeling of lent, as Tony Campolo famously says in his sermon (and book), "Sunday's comin'!" But the night is darkest right before dawn.  

I feel like the dawn of a new season is approaching in my own heart.  However, I am also acutely aware for others it is not.  Therefore, I hung my head tonight in solidarity with them, in the darkness, for yes, we all were and will be again...ash.

I will never be able to truly feel what another feels or experience the life of another, but in my life I know that I want to live. Even among the systems that bug the hell out of me and with the people who annoy and scare me -- I want to live in the dark and the light.  I can no longer naively avoid either, just as I feel now I cannot avoid lent for fear of failing it.

For such a time as this, I have a lenten practice I am going to try out because God gave me an overwhelming sense of my heart being flooded tonight with gratitude.  I'm following the Spirit on this one, so I'm not sure if it is a 40 day thing or not, but at least for tonight it was an invitation of gratitude while sitting in the dark.  I'm not being specific about what I'm doing because the lenten action I am called to feels sacred in this moment -- it is between me and the Spirit. As it should be. Maybe on Easter I will share it in communal celebration, but for right now, I wait for the dawn with a full heart.