Ash Wednesday 2026 – Revd Jaime Roberts
Joel 2:1–2, 12–17
Matthew 6:1–6, 16–21

Loving God, as we open your Word to our hearts we pray that you open our hearts to your Word. Amen.

Today we begin again.

There’s something about Ash Wednesday that feels different from other days in the church calendar. There’s no big celebration, no bright banners, no triumphant music. It feels quieter, slower and more honest somehow. The tone shifts. The pace changes. We are invited to stop pretending that we are limitless and in control.

We come forward and receive ashes and as we do so we hear the words: “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

It’s not the sort of sentence we would choose for ourselves. We spend most of our lives trying not to think about that reality. We plan. We build. We achieve. We curate how things look. We worry about how we are perceived. We try to secure our futures and protect ourselves from uncertainty.

And then, gently but firmly, the Church places ashes on our foreheads and says: remember.

Remember that you are dust.

Not as an insult. Not as a way of shaming us. But as a way of grounding us, steadying us, bringing us back to what is true.

We are not self-sufficient.
We are not invincible.
We are not eternal on our own.

We are dust — and breath — held together by the mercy of God.

There is something deeply humbling about that. But there is also something strangely comforting. Because if I am not self-made, then perhaps I do not have to carry everything alone. If I am dust held together by God’s breath, then my life is gift before it is achievement. I do not have to prove that I deserve to be here. I am here because God has willed it.

Into that honesty comes the voice of the prophet Joel: “Blow the trumpet in Zion… call a solemn assembly… return to me with all your heart.”

Joel speaks into a time of devastation. The land has suffered. There has been loss. Things are not as they should be. He describes darkness and thick clouds. The future feels uncertain.

But at the centre of Joel’s message is not threat — it is invitation.

“Yet even now,” says the Lord, “return to me.”

Even now.

That may be one of the most hopeful phrases in Scripture.

Even now — when faith feels distant.
Even now — when our hearts feel divided.
Even now — when we are more aware of our failures than our strengths.

Return.

Not perform.
Not impress.
Not fix yourself first.

Return.

Joel adds a line that cuts straight to the heart: “Rend your hearts and not your garments.”

In those days, tearing your clothes was a public sign of grief or repentance. It was visible and dramatic. Everyone could see it. But Joel says: let it go deeper than that. Tear your hearts. Let repentance reach the inner place — the place where pride hides, where resentment lingers, where fear quietly shapes our decisions.

That is not comfortable work. It is slow. It is unseen. No one applauds a softened heart. No one congratulates you for letting go of bitterness or choosing humility over defensiveness. But that quiet inward turning — that is the heartbeat of Lent.

And notice something else. Joel does not say, “Each of you, go home and sort yourselves out privately.” He says, “Gather the people. Assemble the aged. Gather the children.”

This is communal. We return together.

That’s important, because our culture often tells us that faith is private: my spirituality, my beliefs, my inner journey. But Scripture keeps drawing us back to something shared.

We stumble together.
We confess together.
We pray together.
We learn together.
We return together.

In the Gospel reading, Jesus speaks about giving, praying and fasting. These were — and still are — central practices of God’s people. And he offers a warning: “Beware of practising your piety before others in order to be seen by them.”

When you give, don’t do it to be noticed.
When you pray, don’t turn it into performance.
When you fast, don’t make a show of it.

Jesus is not dismissing these practices. In fact, he assumes we will do them. He does not say if you give, but when you give. The question is not whether we practise spiritual habits, but why.

Three times he says: “Your Father who sees in secret…”

God sees in secret.

He sees the quiet prayer before a difficult meeting. He sees the struggle to forgive someone who hurt you. He sees the small act of generosity that no one else notices. He sees the effort to turn off the noise and open Scripture instead.

Lent is not about spiritual showmanship. It is about reordering the heart.

And then Jesus says, “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

That is a searching statement. Whatever we treasure — whatever we treat as ultimate — will shape us. Our calendars reveal our treasures. Our bank statements reveal our treasures. Our anxieties reveal our treasures.

If we treasure success above all, we will be restless and competitive.
If we treasure comfort above all, we may avoid costly love.
If we treasure approval above all, we may never risk obedience.

Ash Wednesday asks us a simple but unsettling question: What do I really treasure?

Not what I claim to treasure. Not what sounds good in church. But what actually directs my energy, my affection and my worry.

This year our Lent course is called Draw Near: Life-Giving Habits for Lent.

Notice those words: life-giving habits.

Not life-draining. Not joy-stealing. Life-giving.

Because the practices Jesus names — giving, praying and fasting — are not punishments. They are pathways. They loosen the grip of false treasures and re-anchor us in what truly lasts.

We often focus heavily on giving something up for Lent, and that can be wise. Fasting has always been part of Christian life. Giving something up can reveal what has too strong a hold on us. It can expose how quickly we reach for distraction or comfort. It can create space.

But Lent is not only about giving up.

It is also about taking up.

Taking up habits that draw us nearer.
Taking up practices that form us slowly, deeply and quietly.
Taking up shared commitments that reshape our hearts.

And that is where the word sharing becomes central in our course.

Each week we will focus on sharing in a particular aspect of Christian life — because faith deepens not only in secrecy, but in community.

This first week we begin by sharing in worship.

Worship is not something we consume but something we share. When we gather, we are not an audience but participants — confessing, singing, listening and receiving together. Week by week, worship trains our hearts, reminding us who God is — holy and gracious — and who we are — dust, forgiven, beloved. Slowly, it reorients our treasure.

In the weeks ahead we will also share in prayer, learning to dwell honestly in God’s presence; in Scripture, allowing God’s word to form us; in Communion, coming to the table as one body; in service, turning outward toward our neighbour; in sharing the good news, letting mercy overflow; and in Holy Week, walking together towards the cross and resurrection.

Today ashes mark us with the cross and hold together two truths: you are dust, and you are loved. You are not self-sufficient, and you are not alone.

So perhaps the question this Lent is not only “What will I give up?” but “How will I draw near?”

Because where our treasure is, there our hearts will be also.

And the good news at the start of Lent is this: the God who calls us to return is already near.

“Yet even now,” says the Lord, “return to me.”

Even now — with distracted hearts.
Even now — with mixed motives.
Even now — with ashes on our foreheads.

We do not begin this season because we are spiritually impressive. We begin because we are invited.

So let us enter these forty days not in dread, but in hope. Not as a test to pass, but as an invitation to accept.

Let us rend our hearts — and trust that they will be met with mercy.
Let us practise life-giving habits.
Let us draw near — together — and discover that God has been drawing near to us all along.

Amen.

Sermon – Psalm 32 / Matthew 4:1–11

In the 1970s two scientists at Stanford University did an experiment called the Marshmallow Test. They asked a child to sit in a chair with a marshmallow on the table in front of them. The children were told that they could eat the marshmallow straight away, or they could wait 15 minutes and they would get a second marshmallow if they didn’t eat the first one during that time. The researchers later studied the life outcomes of the children and found that those who were able to wait and earn the second marshmallow also went on to have better scores in a number of measures later in life.

If you have time, go home and Google it – there are some wonderful videos of repeats of the experiment where you can see the children being seriously tempted: sniffing the marshmallow, trying to take the smallest unnoticeable nibble, or simply being unable to avoid tucking in. It is fascinating to watch the children wrestling with temptation.

I wonder how many of us think of Lent a bit like that?

Those of us who have given things up for Lent might feel a bit like the child sitting on the chair – particularly if all we can focus on is the thing we have decided we are not allowed to have. We wonder whether we will live up to the test or whether we will fall short.

We could also look at our reading from Matthew’s Gospel and imagine that God is like the scientist – sending Jesus into the desert knowing that at the end of 40 days of fasting his defences would be down and he would be easily tempted, wanting to check out whether Jesus was really up to the mission he needed to fulfil to save the world. And sure enough, when he is at his lowest ebb, Satan appears and presents Jesus with his best temptations.

But I want to suggest that if we look at our readings closely, perhaps we might find that Lent is not intended as an endurance test which will predict our success at following the Christian life. Rather, it has a message of grace and hope which is an encouragement to us all.

The church year works against us here. We heard the part of the story which precedes this passage way back on 11th January. Jesus is driven straight out into the desert from his baptism, when we first hear God tell Jesus exactly who he is: “You are my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.” On that day, when Absa and Amir were baptised, we reflected on the fact that when we follow Jesus in baptism we too can hear those words spoken over us.

Jesus hears them before he has done any ministry at all. He doesn’t earn them, and neither do we. They are the free gift of our heavenly Father which we simply have to accept.

We usually think that there are three temptations that Jesus faces in the desert: to turn stones into bread, to leap from the temple, and to seize power by worshipping Satan. But there is a subtle temptation which sits behind all of them. Twice Satan says to Jesus, “If you are the Son of God…” – if.

The first temptation is for Jesus to forget his God-given identity as a beloved Son. I think that’s very relatable. How often do we doubt God’s promises? How often do we doubt our home in heaven? How often do we doubt that we are beloved children of God?

I actually think that the other temptations are also relatable. I doubt any of us have been tempted to transform stones into bread, or to leap from a high building to test whether God’s angels will catch us, or to want the whole world to bow down and worship us. But are we ever tempted to treasure our comfort above everything else – to rely on ourselves to meet our needs rather than trust God? To say, “I can sort myself out. I am self-sufficient.” That is what Jesus would have done had he used his power to feed himself with bread created from rocks.

Are we ever tempted to seek approval from the world, to make ourselves the centre of attention? When we talk to others and share only the edited highlights that make us look that little bit better – to say, “Look at me”? That is what Jesus would have done had he thrown himself from the temple, the busy centre of Jewish life, only to be rescued by angels. Everyone would have known he was special then.

Are we ever tempted to seize power and control in situations where we feel defenceless? To ensure that we are the successful ones, that nobody sees any vulnerability? To feel entitled to things that others do not have and to forget how fortunate we are to have everything that has been given to us, overestimating our own role in achieving it? That is what Jesus would have done had he accepted Satan’s authority in order to have power over the world.

You would be perfectly justified in saying, “Hang on Emma – you said something about grace and hope. These deeply human failings which we all experience don’t feel very hopeful.”

Well, that is where the first week’s theme from our Life-Giving Habits for Lent comes in. This week we are reading about sharing in prayer. Prayer is the gift which helps us in that walk. Prayer is the antidote to our temptations – prayer allows us to sit with the marshmallow and not be consumed by thinking about it.

This week we will look at different kinds of prayer (it’s not too late to collect a booklet), all of which we can see in our reading from Psalm 32 today.

The prayer of adoration – we recognise who God is and it brings us joy. The psalmist says: “Rejoice in the Lord; shout for joy.”

The prayer of confession – we get things wrong but can always turn to God for a fresh start: “I said, I will confess my transgressions to the Lord, and you forgave the guilt of my sin.”

The prayer of thanksgiving reminds us that we are not self-sufficient but dependent on a generous God: “You are a place for me to hide in; you preserve me from trouble.”

The prayer of lament – we realise we are not in control but we cry out with those who suffer: “For I held my tongue; my bones wasted away, through my groaning all the day long.”

And the prayers of intercession and supplication – we know that it is only God who can meet so many needs, and all we need is the humility to ask: “Therefore let all the faithful make their prayers to you in time of trouble.”

When we pray we know that God sees everything. Whatever we might want to say about our self-sufficiency, he meets us as a loving Father who knows everything we need. However much we may seek to be successful or the centre of attention, we can come into his presence and be fully seen and known, with all our good bits and our failings. Whenever we feel out of control, in prayer we can be held safe amidst the storm.

So may our Lenten journey start with prayer, and may we know that as beloved children of God he is always more ready to listen to us than we are to pray.

 

Sunday 1st March 2026

A Gift from God

As it is St David’s Day I thought it would be appropriate to begin with a story from Wales.

A few years ago Kim and I were on holiday near Bala and on a walk around the lake we discovered an old chapel that had been converted into a small museum called the Mary Jones Centre. We discovered the very moving story of Mary Jones.

Over 200 years ago near Bala a young girl about 9 years old lived with her parents in a poor community. They attended the local chapel and it was there she heard the Bible being read by the minister. She marvelled at the wonderful words and stories that she heard. At the time she couldn’t read but fortunately a school opened nearby and there she was able to learn to read. Also with a neighbour she learned to read the Bible. She dreamed of having her own Bible but they were very expensive and her family was poor.

She did not give up on the dream. She began to save from the odd jobs she did. Six years later when Mary was 15 she now had the money to buy a Bible. She heard that a clergyman who lived in Bala had Bibles for sale. She set off on the 25 mile walk. Having arrived there she found the clergyman, Charles Thomas. He had a Bible for her to buy and the following day she set off home with her own precious Bible. What a gift! A treasure!

Charles Thomas was so moved by Mary Jones and her wish to have her own Bible in her own language that a few years later he and friends set up the British and Foreign Bible Society so others could have the gift of a Bible in their own language wherever they lived. Mary’s actual Bible is in the Bible Society Archive in Cambridge University Library. As a church we support the Bible Society, as it is now called, with our giving from church.

This story made me think about how important Bibles have been in my own life. I was brought up in a Christian family and regularly attended church and Sunday School. Although I had story books as a child it was the first real Bible that I remember. Here it is: “Presented to Robert Fox for good attendance, Christ Church Adventurers, December 1967.” I was so proud to have my own Bible but sadly it was largely unread at the time as it was too difficult for me to read at the age of 10.

It was a gift of another Bible a few years later that made all the difference. I was in an RE class at the age of probably 15 when I won a prize. I won a Bible. I am not sure what my 15 year old self thought of that, but it was transforming as it was a modern translation of the Bible – a Good News Bible. In a sense this was a Bible in my own language. I did not know it at the time but it was a great gift. That RE teacher was constantly giving prizes away of Bibles – I wonder how many young people had their lives changed by this.

The fact that I no longer have that Bible, as it fell apart, is testament to how important it was as I came to my own faith in Jesus and started to read the Bible as part of my daily life.

Have you ever given a gift of a Bible?

We may have a Bible as a gift but it’s not the actual book that is the gift – it is what it contains that is the true gift.

This week in Draw Near we are going to look at the life-giving habit of sharing the Scriptures, reading the Bible. Is reading the Bible a daily habit for you? It certainly can be a life-transforming, life-giving habit. A precious gift filled with treasure.

As we go through the daily readings this week we will be thinking about the different ways in which the Scriptures are important in our lives.

We talk about Scripture as being the living word of God. It is the way in which God can speak to us each day as we hear Scripture, His word. If you are meeting in a Lent group then you will have an opportunity this week to talk together about how you read the Bible.

Today we have had two readings, one from Romans and one from the Gospel of John. These are not just words to be read but they are from God.

In the Gospel of John we have Nicodemus seeking answers to his questions about Jesus. He was able to go to Jesus and ask them directly. As we have questions about Jesus the place we can seek them is in the words of Scripture, in our Bibles.

The answers that Nicodemus has from Jesus were important for him but they are also important for us. As we read them we can hear Jesus, through the Holy Spirit, talking to us and challenging us. Jesus is talking to Nicodemus about being born from above, being born of the Spirit. This is a spiritual rebirth. Some translations call this being born again.

Jesus is asking Nicodemus to believe. He is asking us to believe. There is the promise of eternal life for Nicodemus and we too have that promise. We have the words in Scripture: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that whoever believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

These words in Scripture tell us of the gift of Jesus as our saviour who died on the cross so that we could be forgiven our sins and because we believe we have eternal life. Jesus is speaking to us through the Scriptures.

We read the words of Scripture and sometimes they need time to get from our heads to our hearts. There is one Anglican church I know where, before they read the Gospel, they say together: “We pray that your word may be in our minds, on our lips and deep in our hearts.”

How can we get it deep in our hearts? One of the ways is to read a passage from the Bible and then ask the Holy Spirit to show us a particular sentence or word. Then take that sentence or word and spend time meditating on it, allowing God to speak to us through it. Taking time allows the words to sink into our hearts, then we can pray about how it affects us and those we live with.

Sometimes we have a passage from the Bible that is difficult to understand when we look at it the first time. That may be true of the passage from Romans that we have read this morning. St Paul’s writing is not always straightforward to understand. It sometimes takes time to allow understanding of his writings, but it is worth it. You may say there is buried treasure in it.

It is sometimes helpful to read the passage in another translation of the Bible. The New Living Translation can be a very helpful one. We are fortunate that we can have access these days to lots of different translations of the Bible. Even on my phone I have a Bible app so I can look up any passage in the Bible in many translations.

Maybe later today look again at Romans 4, especially verses 1–5. Think about what God is saying to you.

The life-giving habit of reading the Bible will enable God to use the words we read to speak to us each day. Let us dig deeper into this during the coming week as we continue with our Lent readings. If you need a booklet they are at the back, also available as an app.

I am going to use the prayer for this week in the Lent booklet Draw Near to finish:

O Lord, you have given us your word
for a light to shine upon our path.
Grant us so to meditate on that word
and to follow its teaching,
that we may find in it the light
that shines more and more
until the perfect day;
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.