It’s Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent. Oil and ashes, gritty—like greased sand—smear
your forehead, marking you with the sign of the cross. The outward sign symbolizes death’s
mark, a mark that Dawn can’t remove, and the redeemed bear that mark as they wander in the
wilderness for forty days.
Lent taps out a rhythm in the church calendar, a measure of time spent looking at death
and acknowledging the separation death brings. Through Lent, the redeemed, those marked for
death yet saved from death, enter into the pit. There, unable to produce a healing remedy to wash
away the mark and mend the separation, they find a space where their hearts may lean into their
broken-up-ness over death. That encounter with death shapes the redeemed as they wander in the
wilderness, knowing God’s promised life when all they see is death. It prepares them to behold
anew the death that sponged away death’s mark and the sudden in-breaking of grace that lies at
the end of the lenten season, Easter. As those entering into that lenten season, facing death, our
hearts cry out together, “How do we return?”
In Joel 2:12–18 the Lord pleads with his people, saying, “Return to me with all your
heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; and rend your hearts and not your
garments. Return to the Lord your God for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and
abounding in steadfast love; and he relents over disaster. Who knows whether he will not turn
and relent?” We try to shield our hearts from death; but Joel tells us to tear our hearts open over
death—to be broken up over death, over separation. We turn to the Lord via fasting, repentance,
and mourning—waiting for the sudden turn in the story that springs out of his mercy and grace.
Joel also tells us that the Lord turns. Grace and mercy flow from a broken heart The Lord has a
torn-up heart, too, over death. And he turns. The Lord gathers his people up into his arms and
comforts them. He invites his people to be broken-up over death with him—to return to him as
they’re broken, not numbing it, but letting their hearts break—saying, “Your heart’s already
broken. Lean into it, and come back to me.” The liturgical colors for Lent are black, blue, and
violet. Look at the bruise. Mourn it, and mourn over it with the Lord who mourns with you and
makes intercession for you.
