Friends: purple cloths adorn our altars, hang in our churches, cover our icons (or our statues may be gone), and clothe our priests, deacons, and altar servers.  We have put aside our Alleluias and taken up our sackcloths.  Ashes mark our foreheads where once the chrism marked and confirmed us as children of God.  No mistaking, we have entered the penitential forty days of Lent.

This Ash Wednesday I attended morning Mass, as I try to do every year, but this year I heard the song Ashes anew—especially the second verse: 
We offer you our failures,
We offer you attempts;
The gifts not fully given,
The dreams not fully dreamt,
Give our stumblings directions,
Give our visions wider view,
An offering of ashes,
An offering to You.

This verse felt so foreign at first.  Lent serves as a time of penance and sacrifice—not a time to dwell on our dreams undreamt. In fact, these words feel like they belong in an uplifting empowering female pop song, maybe sung by Rachel Patton or Katy Perry.  But as I sang, I felt inspired.  I realized that Lent is a penitential and sacrificial season but also a season to reset our spiritual life.  The words of St. Irenaeus entered my heart.  “For the glory of God is the living man, and the life of man is the vision of God.”  You have most likely heard another translation, “The glory of God is man fully alive.” 

God gives each of us individual gifts meant to be used for the world around us.  He places dreams in our hearts to better the world around us.  But in our sin, we twist these gifts to suit dreams of our own making or draw the limits of our dreams too small.  So many times in the past, I let my fear stop me from listening to the Holy Spirit and went my own way instead. My own way became flooded with doubt, tears, anxiety, and insecurity.  I had small dreams of career success and the family and friends those around me had.  When I dreamed, I left God out.  I failed to hear Him calling me to sacrifice and service in my parish, career, and social life.  In the end, this inward, egotistical focus set me aimlessly adrift in the modern chaos.  In the last year, I have instead knelt before the altar, breathed in the Holy Spirit, and offered my dreams at the altar.  Not every step since has been sure, and there have been failures but my dreams have grown far larger and more beautiful than I ever thought.

Truthfully, the idea of offering God these failures--even in my new dreams--feels so wrong.  Similar to those ashes, these failures and attempts are the charred remains of dreams and gifts not realized.  Shouldn’t I offer Him the best of my life, the dreams realized, the gifts properly used?  Not the mess of disorganization and loose ends of projects we hold dear to our hearts.  Not the dashed hopes of saving the world around us.  Not the tears cried in a Panera or Starbucks parking lot after long days where nothing goes right.  Not the anxiety, pain, and disappointment after working so hard for an opportunity only for the opportunity to fall through or go to another. 

But God is our loving Father.  A father would never look at his son’s art project, half-finished and colored outside the lines, and say “this is not worth my time”.  No, he would accept his son’s masterpiece, hang it on the refrigerator, and tell his son “this is beautiful, you did such a great job”.  This father would step in and help his daughter when she could not see how to end her presentation or finish her science experiment.  Doesn’t God ask “Which one of you would hand his son a stone when he asks for a loaf of bread, or a snake when he asks for fish?” (Mt. 7:9-10)  If our earthly fathers accept our failures as beauty and aid in our attempts, then what about God?  He does not just accept these moments, He desires to make these moments perfect in the imperfection, especially if they result from the dreams He has placed in our hearts.

Living humanity consists of dreaming, attempting, and failing but sometimes, just sometimes, truly living is succeeding through the grace of God.  This Lent, I encourage you to look around and inward.  What dreams do you fear dreaming?  Where is your vision near-sighted?  Which gift do you hold back from yourself?  Ask God to enter your sacrifice and penance to show your stifled dreams, to direct your stumbling steps, to widen your vision.  Then, like we display the ashes on our forehead, offer Him your failings and attempts and He will make them perfect.