a man clinging to the cliff of revelation

so scared of what he would find, he started crying





“Remember that you are dust; and to dust you shall return.”

With those 11 mere words Lent begins. 
Just 11 simple words. Words that say something about you and me that isn’t so simple to hear:
That we're dust, and heading inescapably back to dust…

So, let me ask; how do those words sound to you?
Do these words trouble you? Do they scare you? Do they relieve you? 
Do these words surprise you? Or, are you perfectly aware that you’re dust already?

You might even try thinking of how these words have struck you over the years? 
How did they sound the first time you really heard them? And what was that night like?
How do they sound to you now, tonight?
Do these words sound more true, or less? More welcome, or less?

Really think about this. Take note of what’s going on tonight. Attend to what it’s like to hear these words about yourself: 
“Remember that you are dust; and to dust you shall return.”

…I remember a time it was hard to hear what the church had to say. 
I was helping plan my grandfather’s funeral. I had just graduated from seminary, and it was my first funeral.

I got to the point in the service where we commended the deceased to God: “Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant. Acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, 
a sinner of your own redeeming…”
A sinner of your own redeeming?!?!

I couldn’t believe it!
What was the liturgy doing, calling someone a sinner? 
And not just generally saying it; like, “Well, we’re all sinners.” But calling this one particular person a sinner!
And calling them a sinner on the day of their funeral, of all days!

That day, hearing what the church had to say about my grandfather was hard

Luckily for me, though, I wasn’t doing the funeral alone.
My grandfather’s brother, Bill, is a priest. 
So while we used the Lutheran liturgy, he wrote the eulogy. 

And during my grandfather’s funeral, Bill did what the liturgy would have us do. 
He told the truth. 
He talked about how his brother, my grandfather, had a drinking problem. And he acknowledged the way it caused grief for my grandfather and his loved ones. 

Well, at first, I couldn’t believe Bill was saying that, and on my grandfather’s funeral.

But as I looked around, I couldn’t help but notice how everyone who really knew my grandfather, breathed a sigh of relief as Bill said those words.

Because that’s the thing, isn’t it? 
We don’t need Jesus to show up in our idealizations. Do we?
No, we need Jesus to meet us in the middle of our cold, hard truths. 

And as we laid my grandfather to rest, the man who taught me how to drive, his brother dared to say as much.

And let me tell you, hearing the truth in that moment, it freed us. 
It freed us from having to pretend my grandfather had made it into heaven himself. It freed us to instead, commend him over to his redeemer, the one who receives sinners

Now, after a few Ash Wednesdays, I’ve come to learn why Bill was so capable of telling the truth in that moment. 
Because the church had taught him how. How to hear the truth. And how to tell it. 
How to tell it when it matters. How to hear it when it’s hard. 
Those times when we’re tempted to fall back into sentimental, glamorized half-truths…
Half truths that cannot save us; because they’re not real!

And tonight the church is teaching you as much, too. How to tell the Truth. How to hear it.

Because telling the truth. Hearing the truth, can be hard. Can’t it?
But, like I found out at my grandfather’s funeral, there are worse things. 
Like being left to our lies. 
Like not hearing that Jesus chooses to show up in the middle of our stark realities.

This is why the Church is having me say these words to you tonight!
To deliver you from your illusions. To put you on the path of truth. To set you on the dusty path Jesus walks…

Here’s another thing I’ve learned over Ash Wednesdays; Jesus shows up more often than we notice. 
The reason we fail to see him, is because he loves to show up in those places we avoid. Those places we try and cover up with out half-truths. 
Like the rough edges of life. Where sin rears it’s ugly head. Where the cross is squarely in the middle of our path. 

Like at a funeral. Or a Wednesday night. Or in 11 simple words, “Remember you are dust; and to dust you shall return.”

And in a million other places, too. Right?
Because my suspicion is, if you’re anything like me, you’ve heard something that’s made it perfectly clear what you’re made of. You’ve heard the truth that’s hard to bear…
Am I right? I bet I am…

Tonight the church is teaching you that, when that happens, don’t run. Don’t hide. Don’t try and cover it up. 
Instead, just acknowledge it. And though it may be hard, when you do, you will find yourself in the on the dusty path Jesus loves to travel. 

“Remember you are dust; and to dust you shall return.”
Because that’s all Jesus needs to do his best work, just our dusted up lives. 

Like at creation. 
When God makes the first humans, what does God use? 
Yeah. Nothing other than dust. Dirt.
And how does God evaluate this creation? 
Yeah, God calls it “very good.”

Dust is God’s first, and favorite material to work with!
That’s why it’s so important we learn how to tell the truth!

And here’s why it’s so important we learn how to hear it: Because tonight the church is teaching you how to hear the sound of your name. 

In the Gospel tonight, Jesus says he calls his own sheep by name, and when they hear the sound of his voice, they follow him out.

Tonight the church is teaching you how to hear the sound of your name, your real name. Your first name.
Remember, you are “dust.”
Which is what the name “Adam” means in Hebrew, “dust.”

Tonight, as you hear these 11 words you are being re-created. 
Recreated in the image you were first made in. 

And you are also being pre-created. 
Pre-created in the image you will finally die in.

Tonight the church is making you ready for the day when your beginning and end meet. 
The day you are laid to rest. The day when you will be given your first name. 
Because the last words that will be said over you are: “Earth to earth. Ashes to ashes. And yes, dust to dust.”

Tonight the church is preparing you for that. The church is making you ready, so that when those words are said over you, what Jesus says to you tonight will be fulfilled. 

When those words are said over you, “Earth to earth. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust,” you will hear the sound of your name. 
And because you have learned how to hear this, you will hear those words for what they are; Jesus calling you. Jesus calling you will follow him out of the grave and into the eternal life he gives to you.  

Yes, in the mean time, it can be hard, scary to hear the truth. 
But you have a savior who is true. Who enters into this. Who, from this, creates. Recreates and pre-creates. 

So fear not.
And now, prepare yourself. 
Soon you will be called forward to receive the mark that tells the truth about you; you will hear these words, "You are dust; and to dust you shall return. 

As that happens, you will be delivered from your fantasies, into the place where your hope is found; into death, and dust. Into the paths Jesus loves to travel. Into the roads Jesus lays down his life into. And into the holes he stoops down to pick it back up again. 

So come. Come and learn how to walk the dusty path Jesus walks. 
And come. Come and learn how Jesus fulfills these words for you. 

Come. Come and learn the sound of your name.

Come

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