I shared this devotional on Ash Wednesday. The Lenten Season continues to Easter.
The phone call from our son in California startled us. “There’s a big fire close to town. We’ve been ordered to evacuate.” He and his family fled their mountain village in the Santa Cruz Mountains as the blaze raged through the great redwood forest in Big Basin State Park. We used social media, CalFire websites, and webcams from neighbors to watch what was happening. Through heroic efforts of responders and neighbors the fire stopped less than a mile from their house. After three weeks in a friend’s RV they were able to return. But Josh said looking at the blackened ashes and towering 300’ trunks of the great trees brought tears. Some of the trees had survived more than 1500 years before this terrible fire struck.
Ash Wednesday has been a sacred day on the Christian calendar for centuries. It is the traditional beginning of Lent, the season before Easter. Participants may mark there forehead with the black of ash residue, signaling a willingness to examine life carefully and put away anything that detracts from spiritual health.
Ashes come from destruction. We’ve seen the pictures of many communities and felt the grief of friends who have lost everything. Ruidoso, Fritch, Los Angeles, Maui all have caught families is profound trauma and long-lasting grief. Some of us have been through this trauma and bear the hard memories.
Ashes are a reminder that material possessions—and life itself—are transient. Everything we own will someday be broken, lost, burned, decayed, or buried. Our physical lives are included in the litany of mortality. The medications, surgeries, exercise, and good nutrition push back the day of our demise but it will come all too soon. “All are from dust and to dust all return,” is the word of Hebrew wisdom that is literally, soberingly true.
Ashes are a reminder that some aspects of life need to die. Preachers love to list those things, especially the sins of which someone else is guilty. Whatever the issue, we should embrace Lent as a sacred season of examination, repentance, and putting away the dense, restrictive undergrowth that has grown in our forest of life. Actions, attitudes, failures, shadows of the past, fears of the future—these are the realities that grow so easily yet stymie the abundant life Jesus described. In this service or the near future, we should listen to the Spirit for what we could put away.
However, my focus today is the power of ashes to nurture new life. Scientists have confirmed the effectiveness of ashes as a fertilizer. Ash from a forest fire contains nutrients like potassium, phosphorus, and calcium that are released back into the soil, promoting new plant growth after the fire. Some plants require the heat of a low intensity fire to propagate. Within weeks of a fire, the meadows and forests will spring up a new cycle of growth, turning the blackened ashes to a green explosion of life.
Could we imagine that these ashes received today are a doorway to spiritual and emotional development? It can happen. God works in every second to bring possibilities of good, growth, peace, and love to us and through us to this world. When we clear our hearts of the negative energies the presence of Christ within can operate with greater freedom. Rather than the Lenten season being one of negativity a new creativity of the Spirit can guide us forward.
Consider reclaiming time normally used to consume media to instead be dedicated for a spiritual practice such as meditation or journaling. What about using the money saved from those $8 cappuccinos to walk across the street with a welcome basket for the new neighbor? Perhaps it’s time to cancel attendance at one sporting event or movie and make a donation to a group caring for the needs of a hungry refugee at home or abroad. The possibilities for new dimensions of faith are real for any of us when we listen to the prompting of God.
The Big Basin Fire near my son’s home left thousands of giant redwoods blasted with the flames. The destruction left many people grieving as well for the loss of the magnificent trees and trails that inspire all who visit. But tree scientists, called dendrologists, discovered something remarkable in the months after the fire. The redwoods are shielded with extra thick bark which contains the chemical tannin and a high water content. This combination protected them during the fire. Even more amazing, within this bark were buds that had been encased in the thick trunks for centuries. The blackened trunks were not dead but had begun reaching deep inside to the buds they had preserved in good times hundreds of years before. Fueled by sugars accumulated for decades, these Methuselah buds sprouted! New branches and leaves emerged to overcome the damage and bring a new cycle of growth.[1]
The ashes of Lent are the soil of Easter. Each of us are linked with God to discover untapped resources, untried actions, and uplifting ideas which emerge with the prompting of the Spirit. Your giftedness is real and available now. Let the imposition of these ashes today be a signal to clear out the negative underbrush in the forest of your life for the new buds of life that will carry you forward to well-being.
[1] Erik Stokstad, “Ancient redwoods recover from fire by sprouting 1,000 year old buds.” Science.org, December 1, 2023. https://www.science.org/content/article/ancient-redwoods-recover-fire-sprouting-1000-year-old-buds
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