sorrow everywhere [ymca meditation on ash wednesday]

The YMCA was born in shadows and darkness, amidst bleak human misery, fueled by the courageous Christian faith of George Williams and his friends to pray for his fellow factory workers by name, all drowning in the ash-drenched despair of 1840’s sooty industrial London.

Today in my part of the world it is grey, bleak, chilly and sopping wet; perfect for lamenting on this Ash Wednesday.

Christians around the world today in their church or YMCA are choosing to pray, confess and repent of their iniquities, forgive those who sin against them, and maybe have the sign of the cross smudged on their forehead.

It’s a day of sorrow, of humility, of vulnerability and raw honesty. 

We get to choose what we do with this day, we get to choose what to do with everyday, but it does seem to me that most people struggle with what to do with the sorrow that is everywhere, the grief and sadness that smudges each day. 

Of all days, this is one to be melancholy, to be pensive, maybe even just plain depressed. 

Everywhere I look is sorrow: sorrow in Ukraine, sorrow in Palestine, sorrow in Turkey, sorrow in the USA, sorrow in our cities, sorrow in our schools, sorrows in our YMCA, sorrow in our families, sorrows in our souls; there’s sorrow everywhere. 

East Jerusalem, view from the Mount of Olives cemetery

What are our choices? Numb ourselves to the pain of it? Ignore it? Avoid it? Be consumed by it? Rage against it? Succumb to it? To pay too close attention to reality is to be in perpetual lament. 

These are choices Jesus faced, whom we affectionately and in solidarity also name as The Man of Sorrows; he didn’t shy away, nor turn his back, but faced the pain, embraced it, even absorbed it, taking upon himself the pain-wrecking sins of the world.

This is why Paul Tillich writes about the virtue of courage precisely in the glaring face of death, of anxiety and grief, of seeming bleakness and meaninglessness; for Christians in our darkest hours we can see, if nothing else, the courage of Christ to trust God in the face of evil, injustice, and unrelenting sorrows.

The YMCA was born in darkness, amidst bleak human misery, fueled by the courageous Christian faith of George Williams and his friends to pray for his fellow factory workers by name, all drowning in the grueling despair of 1840’s industrial London. 

Whatever the future of the YMCA and our churches, it must include our courageous presence in the lives of men and women who suffer the industrial injustices of reality, whose souls are broken down by machines and efficient technology, whose hearts are darkened by grating grief and stewing resentments. 

What if you could have a day where you could just come clean before God?

Just lay it all out there, everything in your spirit, mind and body that is marred by shame and guilt, to let it go – as Christians we would say: to accept God’s forgiveness of our sins and in Christ Jesus be filled with His Spirit of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self-control.

On Ash Wednesday, and on any day in the YMCA, we can choose to truly lament as well as muster up the courage to be present in sorrow everywhere – by the Spirit of the One who overcomes evil with good, who overcomes death through resurrection, who will one day wipe away every tear.

“And the God of all grace, who has called you to a resilient and glorious joy in Christ, after you have suffered (it won’t last forever), will personally restore you and make you strong, firmly able to withstand the storms.”

[adapted from 1Peter 5.10]

Click here for a song by Seacoast worship that’s meant a lot to me today, maybe it will for you too:

May the grace and peace of God be with you all, always.