Reflection 11: Wearing My Faith on My Forehead

Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of Lent, the forty days of preparation before Easter, not counting Sundays. It is a season set aside to ready our hearts for the death and Resurrection of Jesus. For many Christians, especially Catholics, the day is marked by the sign of ashes placed on our foreheads in the shape of a cross, accompanied by the words, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

That phrase is easy to quote. But I have always wanted to understand what it really means.

Ashes are not a random symbol. Throughout the Old Testament, in books like Esther, Job, Daniel, and Jonah, ashes were a visible sign of mourning, repentance, and humility before God. People would sit in sackcloth and ashes to show sorrow for sin and a desire to turn back to Him. It was outward evidence of an inward posture.

In the early Church, before the Bible was formally compiled in the first few centuries after Christ’s life, much of the faith was preserved and passed on through tradition. During that time, ashes continued to be used as a sign of repentance. Public penance was common, and ashes placed on the forehead marked someone who was seeking forgiveness and reconciliation.

By around the eighth century, the use of ashes became more formally connected to the beginning of Lent. The mark on the forehead was not just about mourning sin. It became a communal sign that we were entering a season of preparation. A visible reminder that we are finite, dependent on God, and in need of redemption. It is the starting line of a journey meant to prepare our whole being, heart, soul, and body, to receive Christ more fully at Easter.

And that is the foundation.

But for me, Ash Wednesday has always been more than history. It has always felt personal.

I remember asking my parents to wake up early so we could go to the earliest Mass possible, just so I could wear my ashes all day. I even remember one year when we could not make it until the evening. I was so disappointed that I used eyeliner on my thumb and gave myself a tiny cross that morning, wiping it off before my mom noticed. Probably not liturgically correct, but it tells you how drawn I have always been to this day.

There is something about wearing a visible sign of faith on my forehead that feels bold and grounding at the same time. For one day, I do not have to wonder if people know what I believe. It is right there. Sometimes people give me strange looks. I have even had someone try to brush the “dirt” off my head. But I love when they ask about it. I love getting to explain. I love getting to say, confidently, this is my faith.

Ash Wednesday feels like two gifts in one. I get to publicly profess what I believe, and I get to privately begin again. Lent has always felt like my New Year’s resolution season. A time when the people around me are intentionally trying to grow, to sacrifice, to become better not for vanity or self improvement trends but for love of our Lord and Savior.

My birthday always falls during Lent, which makes it a little more challenging. There is always that tension of wanting to indulge and celebrate and also wanting to stay committed to whatever I have offered up. But I think that is part of why I love it. I love a challenge. I love being pushed to grow.

So yes, Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of forty days of preparation before Easter. It is rooted in Scripture, shaped by tradition, and rich with meaning.

But for me, it is also one of my favorite days of the year. It is the day I get to say, outwardly and unapologetically, I belong to Christ. And it is the day I begin again, choosing to become a better version of myself not for me, but for Him.