Last weekend, on the Saturday before Lent, I was quite cold.
I was down in the beautiful winter woods of middle Georgia where I grew up. I
was also in the pastures there, on our old farm, helping my brother. Over the
past year, those rolling pastures have grown up with things we don’t like.
There are briars and small sweet gum trees. Oh, my Lord! The bane of sweet gum
trees in the South!
Lots of invasive species have spring up in those pastures,
but lots of the good grass species have also grown too high. They simply needed
to be cut back. But we didn’t cut those things back last Saturday. We burned
them. My brother, and my father, and my son – all of us together – spent the
day burning the pastures and woods.
It’s always a bit risky, even dangerous, to set an
intentional fire. Don’t worry; my brother had called the forestry service to
notify them of the burn! And my brother knows what he is doing. We were doing
something most every tender of pastures and woods has done over the centuries.
Native Americans burned that same land at one time, providing clear browsing
areas for deer and other forms of nourishment.
In burning, we were getting rid of invasive species, and we
were also preparing the soil for the growth of new things. Pastures need
clearing. Woods need their undergrowth burned away from time to time.
Afterwards, the ash is messy – it makes your boots black when you walk there
afterwards—but the ash is also healthy. The ground is nourished and fertilized
by that ash.
So the fire burns, yes, but it also nourishes. And, on a
cold Saturday in the winter time, the fire also warms us. Dangerous as it was,
we tried to stand as close to the fire as possible, so close that ashes were
landing on our feet.
At its best, the confession of sin is a lot like burning
pastures. When we confess our sins – daily, or weekly, or annually, like on Ash
Wednesday – we are clearing the land in order for something else to grow. The
confession of sin is a good and fertilizing thing, especially if we understand
sin to be whatever hinders the growth of God’s presence in our lives.
Confessing sin means letting go of it, burning it away,
getting rid of whatever it is in our lives that is hindering new growth. That
is how I propose a definition of sin in our time: whatever it is that hinders
new growth in our lives.
God wants to grow things in our lives. God wants to grow new things in our lives! But the old
growth is often in the way. That old growth might be some invasive species that
has come into our life over time. But that old growth might also be perfectly
good plants, good things that simply need to be pruned and cut back and allowed
to flourish again in fresh ways.
Ash Wednesday, then, is a day to burn something away. Lent
is a season to burn things away. These late winter days, cold and gray, are
excellent days in which to build a fire. Yes, the fire can be risky and
dangerous. Sometimes it burns too close and hurts us. But it also burns away
those things that hinder us from the newness of God.
On Ash Wednesday, many Christians mark their foreheads with
ashes. Some Christians wear the ashes all day, while some quietly wipe the
ashes away during the day. It doesn’t matter how long we wear them. The point
is that, even for a moment, those ashes are signs that we have burned something
away.
The ashes of Ash Wednesday are reminders that we are making
room for God. We are clearing the pasture of our soul for new growth. Whether
you are at church today or not, and whether you are a Christian or not
–wherever and whoever you are – I hope you are creating space for God. I hope
you are walking on good ground, humble ground that has known fire and ash,
ground that is fertile and ready for new life. Don’t be afraid of fire and
ashes. They are the signs of new life growing within you.
