 "Did I Screw Up Again?"
I muttered.
The stranger replied, "I don’t know. What made you ask?"
"Well, it’s Ash Wednesday. We put ashes on our foreheads and say we’re sorry for
all we’ve done wrong."
The stranger looked puzzled. "Really."
"Yes, we do it every year."
The stranger waited, "... and?"
"And for six weeks we feel sorry."
Another pained silence, and once more, "... and?"
"Ya, six weeks. The ashes remind us we’re mortal... you know, that we’re all
going to die."
"We’re all going to do that, my friend," the stranger remarked.
"But just saying it, you know? Are we really sincere?"
"About dying?"
"Sort of, but that’s not the point, I’m worried about what God’s going to do with
us if we aren’t completely sorry we’ve screwed up again. I mean, I always do — screw
up. Boy, do I ever. I can’t seem to help it. But is it enough just saying 'I’m sorry'.
You know?"
"Being sorry you’re dying?"
"Well, when you put it that way, it does sound silly. But it also sounds kind
of hypocritical to keep saying, 'I screwed up God, I’m sorry.' I’d get sick of hearing
it if I were God, wouldn’t you?"
The stranger smiled. "Oh no, it’s not the words, it’s the voice. God’s loves
to hear from you. Any excuse will do."
Then he nodded and said, "Keep in touch." and as he walked away, I noticed the
nail prints in his hands.
~ George Miller
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On the first Sunday of Lent, the church remembers that Jesus’ baptism is immediately followed by forty days in the wilderness. 
