Beauty for Ashes
The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners;
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn, to provide for those who grieve in Zion - to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. Isaiah 61:1–3
Ash Wednesday invites us to remember who we are: dust marked by grace. We come forward to receive ashes, an outward sign of inward repentance. The ashes remind us of mortality, of frailty, of sin. “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”
Yet in this solemn beginning to Lent, the prophet Isaiah speaks a startling promise: beauty instead of ashes.
Isaiah 61 is a passage Jesus Himself read in the synagogue in Nazareth (Luke 4), declaring its fulfillment in Him. On this day when we are marked with ashes, we remember that the Anointed One has come precisely for people like us—the brokenhearted, the captive, the mourning.
Ash Wednesday tells the truth about our condition. Isaiah 61 tells the truth about our Savior.
We are:
Brokenhearted — and He binds wounds.
Captive — and He proclaims liberty.
Mourning — and He brings comfort.
Faint in spirit — and He clothes us with praise.
The ashes on our foreheads are not a sign of despair. They are a sign of hope. They acknowledge that something in us must die—our pride, our self-sufficiency, our hidden sin—so that Christ may bring resurrection life.
Notice the tenderness of the passage: to bind up, to comfort, to grant, to give. The work of God is not harsh condemnation but holy restoration. Lent is not about punishing ourselves; it is about returning to the One who heals and restores.
The gospel hidden inside Ash Wednesday is this: the same Lord who allows ashes also promises beauty. The One who speaks of repentance also speaks of release. The One who names our dust also breathes life into it.
As we begin this Lenten journey, we do not walk it alone. The Spirit of the Lord rests upon Christ—and through Him, that same Spirit works in us. Our ashes are temporary. His mercy is everlasting.
Merciful God, You know our frailty and remember that we are dust. Bind up what is broken in us. Release us from what holds us captive. Turn our mourning into joy. Clothe us with praise instead of despair and in Your mercy, give us beauty instead of ashes. We ask this through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.