In Christ, we have a Companion who has plumbed the depths of disappointment, who can say to our raw hearts, “My child, I know.” | Lent 2023

Yet this day of ash and repentance and bread and wine speaks to my soul that though I am fatally limited, I am also infinitely loved. And so I bear the ashy cross on my head in humility and sorrow but also in hope, for it is not the dirt that will have the final word, but the precious blood of Christ.

One year ago this weekend, we gathered with our fellow IACers in the freezing cold at a park on the Westside. Used to cramming shoulder to shoulder in the pews, instead we sat spread out on blankets and folding chairs with new words in our vocabulary, like “social distancing,” “flatten the curve,” “masking,” and “pandemic.” We looked at each other with eyes wide, half laughing in unbelief, wondering aloud to each other if this would be over by Easter (ah, weren’t we cute…). Still, we came forward to the table—staggered, but still together—to receive the bread and the wine.  We had no idea it would be months before we would participate in communion in person again.

The coming weeks will present the American church with many reasons for division. However, even in the midst of strong disagreements, be on your guard against the impulse to see those with the same opinions as you as “us,” and the believers you disagree with as “them.”

On this Thanksgiving week, there will likely be many messages meant to cheer you, saying “Yes, this year has been hard, but think of all you have to be thankful for!” Some of us will be able to receive that, but if those words just feel like a kick in the ribs in the middle of a hard season, take heart. In the midst of your sorrow, joy is not far from you.