Dust, the Great Equalizer


By Deacon Timothy Siburg

This might make me a bit of a heretical Lutheran, but I am going to start with a confession. I have never been the biggest fan of Lent. It’s not because I don’t appreciate reflection, spiritual practices, slowing down, taking stock of life, and breathing to better listen to what God might be saying. It’s not because a certain liturgical word that might start with an A or H goes unsaid, and in some congregations, is buried. It’s not even because my boss’ favorite hymn might be, “Through the Night of Doubt and Sorrow.” I suspect it’s because for whatever reason, much like the season of Advent, the music that accompanies the season is generally in a minor key.

On this point my wife and I couldn’t disagree more. She is an avid cello player. The cello was built for the seasons of Lent and Advent. But what has always left me mystified about Lent is the feeling that perhaps our why of going through all this minor drudgery is to bring ourselves down to being the “stinking maggot fodder” that Luther famously called us all, so that Easter might be more joyful. On the one hand I appreciate that, because it makes for a more joyful Easter experience when the A or H word is recovered, said over and over, and sung for all to hear. But on the other hand, I wonder if all this liturgical practice is mere distraction from a deeper gift that we might uncover in this season of the year.

“Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”



These are the words we heard this week on Ash Wednesday. These are the words I heard last year on my birthday, yes, Ash Wednesday was on Valentine’s Day (which happens to be my birthday), and there is certainly no more dreary way to celebrate a birthday then to be so starkly reminded of one’s mortality. But these words are also a gift. They are a great equalizer. Just as we are all dust, we are also all God’s. And God does what only God can do through creating us, breathing life into us, and being there with us for every step of our lives.

Theologically and liturgically, I understand all this. But there is a tension here. Though I have heard these words uttered for 32 years in some way, shape, or form, this week I heard them for a first time said aloud for my 11-month old daughter Caroline. I want to say hearing these words towards Caroline was a blessing and comfort. But they weren’t. They were tear jerking. They were emotion causing. And more than when hearing these words for myself, they were cause for life reflection.

“Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

I rest in the hope of abundant life and the promise of the resurrected and eternal life. That comforts me when I think about my darling daughter. At the same time, I hope that this dust which God has used to create this young girl will be dust that God uses in some way to do God’s work for years and years and decades to come, just as God does through and with all of us.

In terms of stewardship, Lent is a great season and time to think about intention and focus. Why do we do what we do? Perhaps there are things that distract us and get in the way of our relationship with God? Perhaps there are things that hold us back from living most fully as disciples and stewards, bearers of God’s love in the world?

The things of this world can easily get in the way when we forget that they have been entrusted to our care by God. When we start to think that all that we have and all that we are, is our own, instead of God’s, that’s precisely when we run into problems. It’s when we forget to listen to Jesus’ warning, “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal…” (Matthew 6:19, NRSV). But we are reminded this season, that just like us who will one day return to dust, all these things of the earth also collect dust. It’s a great equalizer. As someone who likes a clean home, I can attest to this reality. The more stuff one has, the more one must dust. And this, friends, dusting more and more, does not generally feel like joyful abundant life. Yet again we remember the truth.

“Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”


This season I am going to work to not be so focused on the minor key of the hymns and songs of the season, but rather, on the invitation to grow more deeply as a disciple and steward myself. To be more intentional and mindful of what might be a distraction, and to give myself permission to make a change. I invite you to join me in this.

With the simultaneous vocations of being a parent, a spouse, a pastor’s spouse, a deacon, and your synod’s Director for Stewardship- I feel compelled to admit, I am quite comfortable talking about all of this. Living it out, well, let’s just say as I began this reflection with confession, I need to also confess, that I have quite a bit of work to do to continue to figure out what life is like with so many vocations.

One thing I do know is that I, like you, am a beloved Child of God, called forth out of dust and ashes, and whose body will one day return to that which it was created.  As hard as it might be to think this is true of one’s own child, it’s also comforting when you really stop and think about it, to think about the promise for us that is attached to this, which we know most clearly through Christ Jesus. And for this day and season, I think that is more than enough.

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