I am unfounded, ungrounded, disconnected, roaming aimlessly in a world of chaos without you.

The world teases me. It tempts me with gold and silver, material goods with instant gratification, and lustful relationships more shallow than a tablespoon. There is no hope here without you.

Forgive me, Lord.

Forgive us for seeking home without you. Forgive us for seeking joy beyond you. Forgive us for trying to live without you guiding the way.

Forgive us, Lord.

Guide us and transform us. Place upon our hearts a mark that always takes us back to you no matter how far we get away from you. While you won’t place a fence to keep us in, let us see how wonderful living within your presence was, and is, and forever will be, so we might grow at home with you.

With you, Lord, I am never lost.

With you, Lord, I am founded, grounded, connected, going with your grace into a world in need of transformation. Thank you, Lord.

Forgive us.

Forgive us, Lord, for thinking we know more than you.

Forgive us, for acting on our own behalf more than yours.

Forgive us, for questioning your welcome.

We beg of you to transform our hearts. Let us be the welcoming father. Let no stranger be separated from your table because of us. Let our words be inviting, our hearts overflowing with crazy Jesus love, and our minds filled with heavenly wisdom. We want to be a people of grace where the younger and elder brothers are becoming more like our brother Jesus. Forgive us, heal us, make us whole.

You whisper, yell, scream, holler, plead patiently – sinner come home. We resist. We take our wild selves and go out on our own. We play until we are lost. We work until we hurt. We go with the flow until the well is dry. Concurrently, we hold to form. We follow in the ways you showed. We hold tradition. We stay the course.

Forgive us, Lord.

Forgive us for forgetting that you are the Lord of the Dance, the author of all creation, and the hand that calms the storm. You are the party and the anchor. You are the host and the guest of honor. You are amazing.

Forgive us for going our way when your way leads to life eternal.

Forgive us for holding on to our way when your way leads to all things new.

Forgive us for not listening.

Forgive us for judging when it is we who should be judged.

Forgive us, Lord.

We want the joy of your salvation. Take us, shape us up, and dress us for the celebration of life that comes in walking with you. Amen.

This candle was one of many candles in the environment of our Ash Wednesday worship design. There are several in the room, so one lost did not seem too big of a deal. We went with candlelight for ambience creating a humble and reverent space for Ash Wednesday worship.

Tonight we come to worship absent the normal celebratory tone of an Easter people. We come to a room dimly lit. Your colorful pastor is dressed in black. You are sitting shoulder to shoulder in the round void of anyone behind or in front of you – no one between you and the table of our Lord. While no one stands between you and the table, there is still space. None of you are close enough to touch the table from your seats. You could take a step or two closer and be seated at the table. Then again, the separation is long. It is so vast that you wish the table legs would take life and bring the table to you.

Like the glass, we are broken from the whole. The glass broke and became sharp fragments of its original self. We sinned and became unique fragments of the whole that was originally made in the image of God. We stand alone separated from the joy of God’s table by our own sin – our pride, our selfish desires, our arrogance, our I-can-do-it-myself attitude.

This Lenten season Wesley is going to explore the story of the Prodigal found in Luke 15. Commonly known as the story of the Prodigal Son we are going to journey with all the characters – the crowd, BOTH the younger and elder brothers, and the Father who wanted them all at the table. A feast often illustrates God’s joy. It was a feast of joy in the Prodigal; it was at Passover; it was in the great wedding banquet; it is with Holy Communion. God invites us to his table that we can live in joy; nevertheless, sin keeps us from the table.

The younger brother sought his own life running away with his portion of the inheritance. His sin seems so obvious. The older brother sought the way of the law staying at home; yet, jealous of his brother’s homecoming welcome. His sin just as great – not as obvious. The younger sinned, repented and came home. The elder stayed home, sinned, and went away. We have played both the part of the younger and older brothers. How are we playing those roles now?

Tonight we stand separated from the table. Tonight we come in recognition of our mortality. Tonight the table is set, the feast of victory near; nonetheless, our sin keeps us away. Tonight we come to the ashes remembering our mortality and marking ourselves for the Lenten journey ahead.

I swept up the broken glass. Then, I threw the broken glass away. Graciously, God values us more highly than we deserve. Instead of throwing us away in brokenness He invites us to repent and follow him as he restores us to the joy of his salvation. Softly and tenderly he calls us home to sit at the table and live in joy.

Brothers and sisters, may Lent be a time you give up sin and take on Christ. Give up those things that distract you from the joy of the Lord. Give up things of the flesh that lead to separation and take up the ways of kingdom that lead to eternal life. Give up sin and take on Christ knowing that in Christ we die to the world and are raised in him the crucified and resurrected.