Ashes to Ashes Wednesday 2026

I was raised Catholic, though my faith has changed many times and in many ways over the years. What has remained constant is this, my faith shows up in how I try to be a good neighbor. A kind, compassionate witness. A helper when help is needed.

If there is a God, I believe she would want us to do everything we can to make the world more whole. Even through all the bulls#it. Especially through it.

The Bible stories that have always stayed with me are the ones about being different. About choosing what is right even when it’s unpopular. About acting with integrity when people disapprove, as long as no one is being harmed. In the end, we are the ones who have to live with our choices. Every day.

For seven years, I was with a UCC pastor. We were engaged, and the main reason I’m in Rochester is because Kayla was called to serve as an associate pastor here. In many ways, I lived the life of a pastor’s “wife” for a long time.

We’ve been broken up for fifteen years now (which is crazy to type), and she recently marked ten years serving her two churches in OKC. That relationship was spiritually formative in my life. It shaped me deeply. Faith during those years wasn’t theoretical. It was lived. Practiced. Argued over. Wrestled with.

What I learned is that belief isn’t about certainty. It’s about responsibility.

She once said something to me that never left, "We create our own heaven and hell. We don’t have to wait for the afterlife to experience either. We live them now." As someone who actively manages my mental health, I know how true that is. Many of us have lived in a hell we built in our own minds.

Ash Wednesday is a reset for me. One of the few practices I still faithfully keep from my upbringing. Lent gives me a container. A pause. A chance to let go of what no longer serves me and to make space for something better. This year, that feels especially important.

In 2026, faith cannot stay abstract. It has to show up in how we respond to injustice. In how we organize locally. In how we protect our neighbors when systems fail them. In how we care for the Earth like it actually belongs to all of us, not just those with power and profit.

For the next 40 days, I’ll be sharing reflections and highlighting local people and groups doing the quiet, necessary work of mutual aid. Neighbors helping neighbors. Repair instead of indifference. Presence instead of denial.

We are made of stardust. We will return to stardust. What matters is how we care for one another and this planet in the time we are given.

Ash Wednesday Lenten Reflection:

“Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:

to loose the chains of injustice

and untie the cords of the yoke,

to set the oppressed free

and break every yoke?"

— Isaiah 58:6

Ash Wednesday isn’t about shame or self-punishment. It’s a pause. A truth-telling. A reminder that our lives are finite and therefore meaningful.

The ashes don’t say “you are nothing.” They say, “you are responsible.” Responsible for how we show up. For who we protect. For what we refuse to normalize. For how we love our neighbors and this Earth in real, tangible ways.

If Lent is a fast, let it be a fast from indifference. If Lent is repentance, let it be a turning away from harm. If Lent is preparation, let it prepare us to act with courage, clarity, and compassion.

May these forty days loosen what binds us, strengthen what grounds us, and move us closer to repair. As above so below.

Be well.

Stay safe.

Take care of yourself. Take care of each other.