Karen Hollis | Feb 18, 2026 Ash Wednesday
Ps 103:8-18
8 The Lord is full of compassion and mercy, *
slow to anger and of great kindness.
9 He will not always accuse us, *
nor will he keep his anger for ever.
10 He has not dealt with us according to our sins, *
nor rewarded us according to our wickedness.
11 For as the heavens are high above the earth, *
so is his mercy great upon those who fear him.
12 As far as the east is from the west, *
so far has he removed our sins from us.
13 As a father cares for his children, *
so does the Lord care for those who fear him.
14 For he himself knows whereof we are made; *
he remembers that we are but dust.
15 Our days are like the grass; *
we flourish like a flower of the field;
16 When the wind goes over it, it is gone, *
and its place shall know it no more.
17 But the merciful goodness of the Lord endures for ever
on those who fear him, *
and his righteousness on children’s children;
18 On those who keep his covenant *
and remember his commandments and do them.
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be reflections of your word to us today, in Christ’s name we pray. Amen
As we enter the season of Lent, Jesus invites us to go inward in prayer . . . and today’s Psalm gives us beautiful words to pray back to God. “You are full of compassion and mercy, slow to anger and of great kindness. Our human days are like the grass; we flourish like a flower of the field; when your winds blow over it, it is gone, and its place shall know it no more. Your merciful goodness endures for ever.”
Lately I have been leaning into God’s lovingkindness and practicing radical self-love . . . For years I have tried on such love, reached for it or searched for it. In some seasons I have been desperate for it and only caught fleeting glimpses. I’m finding that the more I practice, the more self-love is there . . . I reach for it countless times in the day, when I forget about love or make mistakes. It’s there when self-criticism rears its head. Self-love is a kind of tool for zooming out from moments of putting ourselves down and remembering: I am human and made in God’s image. I was never made to be perfect – I was made as God’s own beloved child, and that makes all the difference.
My self-love practice was going great, then, older memories started to surface. Like, memories of my teenage years when I was young and doing dumb, age-appropriate things. And the memories hooked me. I remembered how terrible I am, how selfish and self-centered. How I inserted myself where I didn’t belong, to deal with my anxiety. And I wondered, how do I forgive myself for the things I did when I was learning the lessons of growing up . . . or find a way to move forward?
As I zoomed out, I wondered: how are these memories different from the mistakes I made last week? I think the only difference is that the neuropathways for old memories are well-worn, they’re more practiced at bringing me into self-criticism . . . and it worked.
When thinking back to a critical moment or a crunchy season of life, it makes sense that we might feel unresolved or even want a do-over. It makes sense to want years back . . . or to live in the past, longing for something that wasn’t available then, or to find resolution before we’re out of time. Life is so fleeting – we’re here, then we’re gone, like dust blowing on the breath of the Living God . . . the one who exists forever, who brings life, sustains life, and renews life continually.
So, we stand here at the threshold of the season of Lent and Jesus invites us to pray. While God exists beyond time and space, it is here in the present that we can encounter the Living God. We can’t find God when we hang out in the past with our mistakes; we won’t find God in the future with the longings that we hope will one day fill us. Only here, in the present, we can turn toward God in prayer.
The Psalmist reminds us that God doesn’t engage with us according to our mistakes, our regrets, our self-criticism, or the times we have turned from the Divine or were oblivious of their presence . . . God meets us here and now with mercy and great kindness.
If we’re honest, it takes a bit of courage to bring our truth to God in prayer . . . because first of all, naming it for ourselves can be really tough . . . and it feels so uncomfortable to be vulnerable. Ok, maybe it takes a lot of courage to bring our truth to God . . .
We can always count on God to show up for us. You know, before we return to dust, and the energy of our bodies returns to the earth to make something new, God accompanies us in our living. God doesn’t push us to take steps before we’re ready or run out of patience or leave us to sort it out on our own. God remains with us with an open presence and accompanies us in every season and across every threshold.
God is the source of our healing and renewal. When we need help loving ourselves, God is here, Christ takes our hand . . . when we come to heal our regrets, They bring the power of love to transform us, breathing new life into us and releasing the ashes to the wind. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Even our living is part of this grand cycle of renewal, this arc of love that God stretches out across time and space, the arc of love that was made known in Jesus’ life, death and resurrection. How extraordinary it is to participate in God’s world . . . the beauty and the ache of it all . . . as it is made new again and again and again . . . and we are made new with it. Thanks be to God.