In 1512, a German proverb introduced the phrase: “das Kind mit dem Bade ausschütten.” Translated into English, it reads, “Don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater.”
The meaning is familiar to most of us. But until an Ash Wednesday service this week, I’m not sure I had ever applied it to my theology or my Christian practice and tradition.
Having grown up in a Bible-centered, Gospel-preaching Protestant church, I was deeply committed to the depth of God’s Word, the message of repentance and forgiveness, and the value of corporate worship. However, the significance and rhythm of the church calendar were largely ignored. The notable exceptions were Christmas, Good Friday, and Easter… with a nod to Palm Sunday.
Ash Wednesday, Lent, Ascension Day, Pentecost, and All Saints’ Day were either overlooked or, at worst, avoided. In doing so, I fear I missed the reverence, the importance, and the spiritual awakenings that occur during times of historic acknowledgment. Yes, the baby ended up with the bathwater.
Last night, in an Anglican church that our daughter and son-in-law attend with their four children, I experienced the call to confession, repentance, worship, awe, and solemn devotion. There were moments of kneeling, singing, shared readings, teaching, and quiet introspection.
Then, the ashes. A pastoral reminder, spoken as the unmistakable black cross was drawn on my forehead: “Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust.” (From Genesis 3:19)
A reminder of the final days of King David, when he says to Solomon, “I am about to go the way of all the earth.” (1 Kings 2:2)
I had missed this — an invitation to humility, not shame. Confession and repentance, as prerequisites to rightly and authentically worshiping God.
As these words saturated my soul, I was drawn to the patterns in my life that have subtly shifted my focus toward myself: my own needs, desires, self-reliance, and sense of importance. The Spirit of God directed my gaze inward to my tendency to speak confidently about things I am unsure of. I caught an unpleasant vision of how I often contradict others without a clear pathway to certainty.
The ashes on my forehead unlocked my soul. In that space, I embraced the journey toward Easter with new vibrancy — acknowledging that there are habits, behaviors, and perspectives in my life that obscure my vision of God. Areas that need confession and repentance.
I needed the ashes, just as I need the cross and the empty tomb.
“Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working.” (James 5:16)
Healing awaits. The cross assures it. The empty tomb validates it.
Lent.
Yes, Lent. Better late…
Protecting the baby, even as I empty the bathwater.
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