By Julie Ball

A funny thing happened to me in an Ash Wednesday service a few years ago. As I stood in the solemn line, drawing closer to the pastor administering the ashes, I listened to him say repeatedly, “From dust you have come, and to dust you will return.” When it was my turn, though, he inexplicably changed his refrain to, “From ashes you have come, and to ashes you will return.” It was all I could do not to laugh aloud on the way back to my seat. You see, my maiden name is Ashe.

I can’t think about Lent anymore without remembering the unusual gift I received along with the ashes on my forehead that year. I received not only a funny story that I love to tell, but a helpful reminder of the things Lent calls me to consider: who I am and whose I am, where I have come from and where I am going, who is with me on the road of life and who will be there at the end of it.

Like many Baptists, I didn’t grow up observing Lent. As a child, I wondered if the “Ash Wednesday” I saw printed on my calendar each year had something to do with one of my distant relatives. It wasn’t until I got to college that I heard of “giving up something for Lent.” The idea of preparing for Easter was instantly appealing to me, so I have since experimented with different ways to engage in this holy season.

It took me a number of years to figure out that the purpose of Lent is not to launch with full gusto into a self-devised plan to grow closer to God, crash spectacularly and beat myself up for it until Easter comes. It was when I began the process of counseling for my chronic depression that I developed a deeper appreciation for Lent and the Biblical stories that traditionally accompany it.

Although Jesus was without sin, he was not without dark places within himself. The voice of the devil speaking to Jesus in the wilderness – a story we often use as a metaphor for Lent itself – pinpointed those dark places with frightening accuracy. The work of Lent, much like the work of counseling, involves pinpointing the dark places in ourselves and in our world. It is difficult, but it is necessary for health. As I like to say of my counseling experience, a clear pool with dirt settled on the bottom is not truly clean, and there’s no way to get it clean without first stirring up the dirt.

Yet it was the unintentionally funny experience I had that Ash Wednesday which taught me that Lent is not entirely dark and difficult; quite the opposite, actually. Joy, light and even laughter may be found in unexpected places along the way. After all, the word Lent comes from an old word for “spring” which denotes the lengthening of the days during this time of year. The light is growing, and with it comes hope – hope that the God who brought us into the world and walks with us through it will be there still when we reach the end. Hope that the family of faith which helped to form us will participate with us in the difficult task of self-examination and will be better for it.

Lent reminds us of the truth we all must face: from dust and ashes we have come, and to dust and ashes we will return.  But the cross that marks both the beginning and end of this season reminds us that God is a God of resurrection. The same God who breathed life into a valley full of dry bones also promises to breathe life into dust and ashes.

Julie Ball lives with her family in Memphis, Tenn., where she wears many hats: mom, wife, writer, teacher, lay leader and lifelong learner. Julie shares her thoughts and experiences on her blog, “Meeting God in Memphis.” She contributes this post as part of CBF’s Churchworks e-newsletter. Subscribe to CBF’s e-newsletters here.