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| “Look, I will tell you a mystery! We will not all die, but we will all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet.” – 1 Corinthians 15:51 I’ve never been good at tending to plants. The rhythms of care that most require are rhythms that I find hard to keep in a way that keeps them vibrant and green. Most plants that come into my possession are ones I receive as gifts, including a jade plant gifted to me by a congregant after sharing this trait of mine as a sermon illustration (“These plants are unkillable!” they said. Reader, I did my best, but this plant did indeed eventually die under my care). Having received these verdant companions as a sign of friendship, there exists a guilt when my lack of a green thumb kicks in. At the outset of this Lenten season, I was gifted with a helpful reframing of this guilt by means of the eponymous piece of Ash Wednesday. Being new to my call, I wasn’t sure if any of the congregations I served had any ashes on-hand to use, and I waited too long to order any from a church supply store. Luckily, a local ecumenical colleague was making her own from the palms of the prior year’s Palm Sunday observance and she was willing to share them with me. I’ve heard of such a practice before, but to be using ashes made from a leafy green that had served such an important purpose a year prior got me thinking about death and transformation in some particularly harmonious ways. In particular, it sparked in my mind what Paul wrote in his first letter to the church in Corinth that is a recommended piece of our graveside ritual. For us and for the palms from Palm Sunday, death is not the end of the story but there is yet change to be seen and experienced! While this is a beautiful and comforting and mysterious reminder for us to steward on the grand scale of one’s life, I feel it also provides us with an invitation to look for the change and transformation in our midst when we’re in smaller seasons of change, liminality, and lament. Change can certainly take many forms: pruning to make room for new growth, decay to feed what will emerge next, and sprouts emerging from what was previously sown. From death, from ashes, from dust, from all of these arrives potential for transformation. As we continue our wanderings through this season, it’s my hope that we’ll discover something within this season to help us find meaning in the in-between: a helpful change, some guiding meaning, a spark of gentle newness. Liminal spaces are difficult to hold, especially when they linger longer than we expect them to last. All the while, may we be buoyed by these reminders from Paul, the companionship of those on this journey with us, and ever-guiding presence of our loving Creator. |
 Bio: Anders Nelson (he/they) is the pastor of the Mabel/Henrytown Tri-Point Parish in Mabel, Minnesota where he’s been serving three congregations since December 2024. Their interests in ministry center around inviting communities to tell their own story, including recognizing how their story fits into the larger narrative God is weaving throughout all time and space. In his spare time, you can find Anders playing plenty of board games, singing and dancing on stage and off, and participating in way too many Dungeons and Dragons campaigns. |