When you remember that you are mortal, that you will die one day, it frees you up to live as Christ in every moment, every day that you are given.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
Ash Wednesday
Texts: 2 Corinthians 5:20b – 6:10; Joel 2:1-2, 12-17

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

You are going to die. We all are. But that’s OK.

You came here today to remember this. To receive a cross of ashes on your forehead, and hear, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Today you will see black crosses on every forehead, from the foreheads of 90 year olds to the foreheads of small children. We’re all going to die. And that’s OK.

See, the Triune God has death taken care of. God’s love at the cross proves what was always true: death cannot stop the love and life of the God who made all things. When I die, when you die, there is new life waiting. Death is never to be feared, it’s only a door.

But you need to remember you are mortal so you can truly live in this life. That’s why you’re here today.

Repentance and confession are part of our worship today, and that’s good.

The prophet Joel calls you to turn around, to return to God, for God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love. And today you and I take extra time to name our sinfulness, seek God’s forgiveness, hear God’s promised love and grace.

But every time you come to worship here you embody repentance. You turn from your daily life and come toward God. To hear God’s voice guide you, challenge you, comfort you. To receive God’s forgiveness and love in Word and in Meal. To be blessed and restored for your journey in God’s way. You don’t need one day a year to remember to repent: your whole life of worship is that repentance. You don’t need one day a year to confess and be forgiven: every day that is your grace to cherish.

And “remember that you are dust” isn’t a threat to push us to reconcile with God, either.

Ash Wednesday has often been used that way. “You’re going to die, so get your act together.”

It just doesn’t make sense. Paul’s call today to be reconciled to God starts with Paul’s conviction that God’s already done all the reconciling needed. Here are the verses immediately before our reading today:

So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; look, new things have come into being! All this is from God, who reconciled us through Christ to God and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to God’s very self, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us.   2 Corinthians 5:17-19

Reconciliation with God is already a reality. It’s what enables Paul to live as he describes in these words to the Corinthians today, through whatever it is that comes, hardship or not, because he’s grounded in the reconcling love of God. You and I and the whole creation are already reconciled in God’s love because of Christ. You’re already a new creation, Paul says: now live as that new creation.

But to live that way, we say “Remember that you are dust.”

Something we easily deny, or forget, or ignore. How much energy and time and money do we spend on trying to avoid aging, trying to deny we are getting older? And why are people surprised when they get a terminal illness? Did they think they were going to be the only one to escape dying? Obviously the timing of death can be a surprise and a grief. But death itself seems to be a surprise to nearly everyone. Most live as if they’ve got all the time in the world.

But when you remember that you are mortal, that you don’t get out of here alive, your life becomes gift. You’re not afraid of the outcome, of death itself – God’s already got that in hand. But if you also simply said every day, “I am going to die, so today I’m going to live fully and wholly,” your life would be demonstrably better.

Some of the most beautiful people of faith I’ve been privileged to serve as pastor have taught me this, again and again. When you accept that you will die one day, that’s when you truly start to live.

There is joy and freedom and life in “remember that you are dust.”

We start Lent, our yearly reflection on our baptismal identity, remembering that we are going to die because we need to remember we don’t have indefinite time to live. If you’re going to live as God’s baptized child, the time is now.

I know I am going to die. I don’t know the timing, obviously. But knowing the truth means I’m not afraid of dying. I just know at some point I won’t be able to love, to live, to help people, to be kind. I won’t be able to say the things to my loved ones I want to say, or make a difference in the world in God’s love.

And that’s deeply freeing. And a cause of joy. Because I can greet each new day with thanks that I have it, with no promises of tomorrow. If I live long enough for parts of my body to wear out, hurt, need repairing, I’m not surprised – I know this body can’t last forever. If it turns out death will come much earlier to me than I hoped, I can handle that because I’ve known all along that it was coming.

My life definitely has an endpoint. So now, now is the time for me to live as Christ.

Remember that you are going to die. So you can really live.

That’s the joy of the Christian life. When the outcome of death is no longer to be feared, because you will live after you die in Christ, and you find the acceptance that you will not live here forever, you are free to be Christ, to live as Christ, in ways you’ve never dreamed.

Beloved child of God, you’ve got today to be Christ, you know that much. Start there, and live.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

The wonder and glory of the Transfiguration wasn’t meant to just stay on the mountain. Our own mountaintop encounters with God restore our spirits and carry us through the valleys.

Vicar Erik C. Nelson
February 15, 2026
Texts: Exodus 24:12-18; Psalm 2; 2 Peter 1:16-21; Matthew 17:1-9

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

The first time I ever preached in public was for Transfiguration Sunday in 2018. I was a youth worker at a church in Jamestown, North Dakota, and I think my pastor wanted Super Bowl Sunday off.

My sermon was 37 minutes and kind of wandered all over. There are things in that sermon that I probably wouldn’t preach today, but there’s one thing I stand by: this mountaintop story is not about the mountaintop.

It is about a moment of encounter with the divine, how we respond to it, and what God invites us to in the time after.

I can only imagine what the disciples were thinking in the moment of the Transfiguration, when earth melts away and the curtain between heaven and earth is ripped open.

In this unbelievable moment, Peter, James, and John fall to the ground in fear. I wonder if they were thinking about the God described in today’s Psalm, the one that demands you submit with fear and bow with trembling. I wonder if Peter was regretting his attempt to fill the silence.

I wonder if they were thinking about the impossible things Jesus had already told them… “If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also;” “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” “Take up your cross and follow me.”

Even so, the voice from heaven tells them, and us, to listen to Jesus. And like the disciples, we can be scared when we hear that, when we consider how high the stakes really are. When we follow Jesus, we follow him to a cross.

But we’re not alone in it.

After this voice proclaims, “listen to him!” Jesus could have followed that up with his own commands. A normal ruler would have told them to do something or serve him in some way.

But instead, he doesn’t speak. He comes over to them, touches them with love and care, bringing them back into their bodies, into the moment. And then he says to them, “Get up and do not be afraid.”

This is Jesus’ word for us today as well. Get up and do not be afraid. When he tells us not to be afraid, this isn’t just spiritual bypassing. These aren’t empty words telling you to get over what you’re feeling and move on.

This is Jesus reminding them and us that he is with them, so they really do have nothing to fear. This God of glory and majesty from our Psalm is with them, but doesn’t demand trembling submission. He comes to them in compassion and tenderness.

He is with them on the mountain. He comes to humanity in these celestial moments where heaven and earth come in direct contact. He is with us in our sacramental life.

He is also with the disciples as they go down the mountain. He remains with humanity in the everyday, not just in those moments of spiritual peak. He is with us as we leave this place, going out to serve our neighbors.

We need moments on the peak. We need experiences where God comes close to us in power and majesty.

And we also need moments down in the valleys. If we spent all day every day here, in this room, always in prayer and worship, who would pack boxes of groceries to deliver to our neighbors? Who would patrol the streets? Who would take the kids to school? Who would shovel the sidewalk? God is with us in our holy everyday moments.

Because we have these mountaintop experiences, we are able to go out and do all the other works God has prepared for us. When we hear Jesus say to us, “get up and do not be afraid,” when we have this reminder that he is here with us always, the other words he says maybe don’t seem so hard.

Because we know Jesus is with us, we are able to love our enemies. We’re able to pray for those who hate us. We hear him say, “blessed are the poor,” and we rise up to bless the poor. We hear him say, “blessed are those who mourn,” and we rise up to mourn with them.

The things that Jesus says, the life that he calls us into, those things are hard and costly and contrary to the way of the world, but we have these promises that we don’t do it alone.

These promises feel especially close this week, in the life of this congregation. Today, as we welcome new members to join us in this mission. Later this week, as we lay our sisters Marilyn and Rhoda to rest.

The God whose glory covered the mountain is the one who now holds Marilyn and Rhoda in love. The God who accompanied Peter, James, and John down the mountain is the one who guides us in our mission now.

God is heard in this booming voice from heaven. And God is seen in the compassionate person of Christ. This title Jesus uses for himself, the Son of Humanity, the Son of Man, is a reminder that he is truly one of us.

He’s not just far away, demanding perfect answers and constant fear and trembling. He comes close and reaches out to us in love.

At the end of my sermon eight years ago, I said, “And there’s no better, no dearer friend we can have than Jesus. He knows all things, he sees every trial, and He’s there to support us through it all. He’s with us when we feel like we’re on top of the world, and he’s with us when we feel like we’re in the lowest valleys.”

I stand by that. There is no dearer friend we can have than Jesus. Rhoda and Marilyn knew that in their lives on earth, and they experience the fullness of it now. And when we come to the table in a few minutes, we too will have a glimpse of that eternal feast.

Just like on that mountain, the glory of God will come to us in bread and wine, the body and blood of our Lord. Together with Peter, we can say, “Lord, it is good for us to be here.”

And then, when we leave, God will go with us.

Thanks be to God.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen