after ash wednesday

Last night was the first time I've attended an Ash Wednesday service.  It was an honor and a pleasure to also lead in worship along with the other leaders at Intown.  It was a somber service, and it was quite moving to take part in the liturgy that got repeated over and over and over to each individual who came forward for the impression of ashes:

Son of God, from dust you were formed, to dust you shall return.

Daughet of God, from dust you were formed, to dust you shall return.

Moving out into the city with the sign of death and hope on my forehead was an experience unto itself.

Today, I'm feeling worn.  Adding another service to the week, along with a few other work related things has created the perfect storm of activity, making it difficult to stop. and breathe. and focus.

One of the Sundays of Preparation that the Eastern Orthodox church observes centers around the Final Judgment.  The church remembers those who have passed on before, and by extention each member is reminded of their own impending death.

And after death the judgment.

I have to say, functionally, I feel like I don't believe this hardly at all.  The way I so selfishly and lazily spend my days, it's as if I'll never run out, it's like I think I'll live forever and the only person I'll answer to is myself.

When I stop to consider that I will die and that I will face the One who gave me breath and body and days, I want my life to look drastically different.  But I don't mean that I suddenly want to pray for hours on end and wear Christian t-shirts and hand out tracts that look like $20 bills.  

I do want to pray more.  But I also want to learn a foreign language.  I want to take more photographs.  I want to stay up late drinking wine with my wife talking about all sorts of things. I want to befriend people that society tells me I have no business being friends with.  I want to work harder and rest harder. I want to understand how a flower blooms.

I think I want to be more like Jesus.  The Man of Sorrows was also the Drunken Messiah.  The homeless itenerant preacher, who spoke often about God's judgment, was also a great dinner guest, a great partier.

Strangely, I think that only when I really sober up will I be able to truly enjoy the party.  As Schmemann says, Lent is the great school of repentance.  It's the great school of sobering up, the great school of contemplating my own death, and in some backwards way, as it leads me to Easter, it is the school of enjoying the party.