From Ground to Glory
“Out of the ground you were taken;
For you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” (Genesis 3:19)
The season of Lent all across cultures and regions of Christendom begins with a celebration of fasting and marking. Ashes are applied to the foreheads of believers as a symbol of the humility of their origins and dependence on God for all life and breath. It is a re-posturing of heart towards a journey backwards to the dirt, and forwards to the cross and resurrection of Christ. It is a declaration that we are not invincible or divine, but rather poor, needy and limited. Though some might possess power, wealth, esteem and status in this life, it is made up of ashes, and will be burned back into it when we reach our finality. It foreshadow’s Christ’s death and entrance into ashes, and the hope His resurrection gives us, as He is born out of it. It is the miraculous story of the realm of earth being transformed to the realm of heaven, which is our hope as followers of Jesus, as children of God.
But like other biblical mysteries, this picture invites further investigation - especially for those of us in a Western-church, post-industrial age of relating to the natural world at arms length. We have little wholistic experience living off the land in close relationship to wildlife and the environment, which means we have to more intentionally explore the metaphor with the heart of a gardener, and the mind of a scientist.
David Montgomery and Anne Bikle, microbiologists and avid gardeners, in their book, “Hidden Half of Nature,” let us into the secrets of interdependent life under the surface. They introduce the reader to microbes: tiny organisms that form the entire lifeblood of earth, that take up one entire kingdom in the scientific category of the tree of life, and that together, make up half the weight of life on the planet (p. 24). When trying to explain how complex and beautiful this actually is, Montgomery says, “There are more bacteria living in a handful of rich fertile soil than the number of people living in Africa, China and India combined (p. 25).” Scientists are still discovering new microbial species, and believe that what they know now is only a tenth of what is actually present (p. 95). Any good gardener knows that the quality of the soil is everything. They know the smell of it, the feel of it between their fingers, and they patiently watch it prove it’s worth by the quality of the plant, and the fruit it produces. It is slow and careful work. Work that relies on hidden relationships underneath the ground, and what that means for any hope of harvest. When a gardener sees a field covered in dirt, he understands that the land is not barren, but ripe with capacity. When the scientist sees a forest burnt to the ground, she understands that the ashes hold potential beyond measure.
To the human eye, dust looks like nothing. To the human eye, ashes look like death. But in the hidden space of the mysteriously unseen, the capacity for life is always present in Jesus Christ. In the same way that blood holds within it the symbol for both death and a hope for new life, the ground from which we came - what Montgomery and Blake refer to as “the essence of all living things (p 89),” holds the process of decay alongside the one for transformation. The mystery once hidden from human view, the essence and lifeblood of all creation becomes revealed in the son of God. The grave might look like the end, but only to those who have had a beginning.
Churches that practice this ancient ceremony of marking with ashes, use the burnt remains of the previous year’s palm branches, as if to point us to a recurring narrative that we cannot escape. Linear time, it seems, continues to refine in us this process of death and regeneration. It is present in our spiritual experiences and growth in Christ, and present in the earth’s systems that we are intricately part of. When organic matter decomposes, the hungry soil life eats the bounty present, and in the process changes death into the elements and compounds that plants need but can’t always get from photosynthesis. Without the breakdown of essential elements, we will inevitably miss necessary components that “become the foundation for a thriving world of life (p. 93).” Without the dust, we won’t know our beginnings. Without the ashes, we won’t know our end. But the good news of Jesus Christ is the potential for life beyond end - from dust to dust, becomes from ground to glory.
“Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all die, but we will all be transformed— in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye… For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. “ 1 Corinthians 15:51-52
This beginning of the Easter season, I am brought back to my beginning - which reveals the uncreated One who placed a promise of life in the depths of that soil from which I was made. I am also brought back to my end - which reveals a merciful and mighty One who placed a promise of life in the depths of the ashes from which I was remade. So I wear this mark humbly today, aware of the mystery of the God of life woven through all of creation, and hidden in a story that speaks of hope. Hope, often too small to see with the human eye, but ever-present still.
Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit - as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever.
Amen.