Ash Wednesday collided with Valentine’s Day this week. It has probably happened before, but as a junior higher, I was too busy exchanging Valentines and conversational candy hearts to notice. If I did notice anything on Ash Wednesday it was my friend’s excused tardiness to school and the smudge on her forehead.

“Why do you have a smudge on your forehead?” I asked.

“It’s not a smudge. It’s a cross from the priest,” she explained. “It’s Ash Wednesday.”

This was not a day on my Baptist church’s calendar. “Ash what?”

“Ash Wednesday. You know, the beginning of Lent.” Not on the calendar either nor did my friend elaborate much. “For 40 days before Easter, you eat fish, not meat, and give up candy.”

When I asked my mom about this apparent gap in my Christian upbringing, she replied, “We’re Baptists. We don’t do that.” Since I liked candy and didn’t like fish, I was relieved that we Baptists didn’t do Ash Wednesday or Lent.

On Thursday, my friend would come to school smudge-free, and life went on as usual at Helen Keller Junior High.

In college, when Ash Wednesday became a thing among evangelicals, I had friends who pulled back their hair to make sure everyone noticed the ashes on their foreheads. Another apparent gap in my Christian upbringing that Lent was a season of show and tell. Or maybe my friends simply forgot what the priest said when placing the ashes on their foreheads; “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.”

I know better now that neither my junior high friend nor I—and not even my ash-proud friends—could ever make ourselves smudge-free. Sin leaves its smudges and prints on our hearts, turning lives into ashes, and returning us to dust, to death.

Perhaps the practice of giving up something for Lent (and I hope more than candy or meat by now) is to make Jesus’ death on the Cross more relatable or to satisfy that impulse of ours to do something for our salvation. But how can we relate to the Cross, when it was Jesus, who knew no sin, was made sin for us? What Lenten sacrifice of mine will add to the lavish grace and mercy God showed us in Christ?

English Nonconformist Isaac Watts may or may not have shared my inclination of answering rhetorical questions, but he did, however unintentionally, this once when he wrote “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross.”

When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to His blood.

See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

It’s not only the 40 days leading up to Easter that we should survey the wondrous cross but also the other 325 days of the year, overwhelmed with thankfulness that we who were dead, left in the dust, were made alive in Christ.