Recently I was catching up with a friend who knows me better than most. She’s the kind of person who sees through the polished version of me and waits patiently for the truth to surface. I told her that despite all my effort—trying to be capable, calm, organised, in control—I’m running out of steam. Life isn’t lining up neatly. I’m stretched thin, and I finally admitted it: I’m exhausted, and I don’t know how to keep holding everything together. She laughed—kindly, but honestly—and said, “Well, welcome to the human race. Who exactly do you think you are—God?” What she was really saying was: Paul, remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.
Somewhere along the way, I had forgotten that. I had forgotten my dustiness—my mortality, my limits, my humanity. Not “only human,” as if humanity were a flaw, but human as in I am created, held, and dependent on God. I had forgotten that those Ash Wednesday words—Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return—are not a threat, not a judgment, not a reminder that we are worthless. They are an invitation to remember who we really are. They are the first step toward healing our lives and our relationships. They call us to re‑order our priorities and ask what truly matters. You see when we forget our dustiness, we start focusing on things instead of people. We chase praise instead of love. We cling to old hurts instead of forgiveness. We forget that we need God, that we need others, and eventually, we forget how to value ourselves.
Ash Wednesday interrupts that cycle. It says: Enough. Stop. Think again. There is another way. That’s why Lent has always centred on three practices: prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. These are not a spiritual fitness programme, not a second attempt at New Year’s resolutions, and not a six‑week crash diet before summer. They exist for one purpose: to repair relationships. Prayer heals my relationship with God. Fasting heals my relationship with myself. Almsgiving heals my relationship with others.
Lent invites us to look again at our lives—to remember what we’ve forgotten, to remember what matters, to remember that we are dust and that God breathes life into that dust. Lent says: Stop. Take time. Reset your priorities. Choose what leads to life. Choose what leads to love. It is not too late. Life begins today.
Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.
Remember your dustiness.
Author: Paul Jenkins O.Carm
