“When we were right, God laughed at us in our rightness.” —Martin Luther

I’ve started a new Lenten Discipline. Accidentally. I really didn’t mean to do it.

You see, I’ve gotten a little stubborn in my later years. (What’s new, right?). In my stubbornness I decided this year to forego an Ash Wednesday Service. The smearing of ashes in the shape of a cross of the forehead seems so out of kilter with the scripture that says we mustn’t show our penitence to anyone. The act of repenting and entering into this season is a deeply personal one and should be kept within the closet of our hearts, not shown as a spectacle to the world. Letting our left hand know what our right hand is doing is not what scripture calls for.

So I had a moment of what I thought was brilliance. I ordered some little wooden crosses that could be worn around one’s neck. I got a good deal on the first batch and liked them when they came in so I ordered enough to have plenty to pass out in my congregation on the first Sunday of Lent. They were a hit, seemingly. I mean no one told me they didn’t like them.

But trying to separate these little things is a job.

Have you ever been mad at the cross?

I’m not mad at The Cross of Jesus, which saves me and you from a multitude of sins. I’m certainly not feeling bad for that. I mean it was cruel and it was not what we might have wanted for Jesus to go through, but it was necessary and it was salvific. No, I’m not mad at that. I’m mad at these little strung wooden things that keep clinging to one another and refuse to come apart. I’ve been working three days to separate them, what’s left after I passed them out on Sunday, to have them in case someone that missed might want one. I will work and work and maybe one comes out free. Not good theology there, works righteousness never is. But I need some grace to get through this.

It’s a reminder that sometimes our efforts just absolutely pale in comparison to the work of salvation in Jesus Christ. I mean even our best work cannot save us. It only mires us up more in the web of sin.

So here I sit, trying to undo a mess, some of which I made, and some of which the manufacturer caused. But it’s a mess, and it has to be undone. Just like the sin in all our lives. Jesus is the Great Undoer of Sin.

I’m clearly thinking now about next year’s Ash Wednesday and how I might just burn these little things to make some ashes. I need to repent of that thought.

God is laughing at me.