This called for creative solutions. I asked the session if perhaps it would purchase a wood-burning stove for the manse. After considerable debate, a compromise was reached. The session would buy the stove, but I would have to supply the wood.

Back in the 80’s wood stoves were all the rage. In fact, the saying back then was: "There are three kinds of truly boring people: people who have stopped smoking, people who have started jogging, and people who have bought a woodstove."

There were some advantages to operating a woodstove. It was definitely cozy, and living where we did, in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, fuel was plentiful. But what they don’t tell you in the brochures is that woodstoves are dirty. No matter how careful you are, no matter how often you clean, a light coat of ashes is pretty much a permanent fixture in your house – especially after you empty the firebox, which you have to do at least once a week. If you get behind, your house begins to look like a scene from the lost city of Pompeii.

That ritual of taking the ashes out of the house was a familiar one for our forebears. Biblical societies relied on wood fires for heating and cooking, and its easy to imagine that keeping ashes under control was a major housekeeping task. If people became preoccupied with something serious – a death in the family for instance – emptying the ashes was the least of their concerns. Imagine a friend stopping by to pay respects, and saying, as gently as possible: "Did you know you have ashes on your face?"

However the tradition began, ashes became a sign of remorse, repentance, and mourning. Ashes smeared on the forehead said to the world, "Give me some space. Can’t you see I’m in pain? I’m in the wilderness and I’m trying to find my way back. I’m hurting and I want to be whole again."

Like most religious practices, the ashes thing can go too far. Jesus had some harsh things to say about folks who went about the streets with their foreheads smeared and their faces distorted. They liked to be seen, he concluded, and we all know that public piety has its rewards. The best thing the Governor of Georgia could have done for his image was to pray for rain on the steps of the state capitol. It saved having to make politically tricky decisions about water stewardship.

The Reformers of the 16^th century weren’t keen on Ash Wednesday – indeed they weren’t keen on most of the liturgical calendar. They thought rituals like the one we’re about to enact distracted people from God’s Word and reinforced a bad theology of works righteousness.

Fair enough. We need to be careful not to miss the gospel’s message that we are saved by grace, not by works of the law – not by ashes smeared on our foreheads or public prayers in front of the TV cameras.

But ashes symbolize something else besides repentance. They symbolize humility and mortality. They remind us that we are creatures, not gods. We are part and parcel of the earthiness of creation. According to that treasured story in Genesis, the first human being was made out of the red clay of the riverbank. God molded and formed that first person and breathed into him the breath of life. We reflect the image of God, you and I, but when it comes right down to it, we’re mud, dust, ashes. We rely on a gracious God for every breath take.

"Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."

Those words come as a rebuke to us when we consider what a mess we have made of God’s good creation. At long last, Christians in America are connecting the dots between Genesis and global climate change, between the command to love neighbor and the negative impact our profligate lifestyle is having on neighbors all over the world. We’ve gotten too big for our britches, and we need to repent and change our ways.

"Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return." A rebuke.

But these words can also be a comfort. God remembers that we dust. God knows how fragile we are and how easily we break. God looks upon us with compassion and shows us mercy.

"The Lord remembers that you are dust." Apart from "God so loved the world that he gave his only Son," those just might be the most gracious words in all of scripture.

Did you know you have ashes on your forehead? Maybe you’ve got a woodstove at home. Or maybe you’ve got a heart that’s just a little bit broken. Maybe you think the pain inside you doesn’t show, but God sees it, and God wants to make you whole. God remembers that you are dust. The God who formed you loves you still.

Repent, beloved, in hope of God’s mercy.  Rely on God’s promise to you, made flesh in Jesus Christ. Walk with Jesus Christ on his way toward Jerusalem, and keep watch for the dawning of Easter.