Poop on the Steps: Ash Wednesday 2026
The other day as I was driving downtown to work, I was flooded with the sensation that I was coming unglued. I had been listening to a news station in the car, and as I exited my vehicle, I felt out of control, anxious and fearful. Lately, I have found that any time I listen to news or scroll on a screen, I come away with the belief that the world is falling apart, democracy and freedom are illusions, that human beings are callous, and any notion of faith in God has been hijacked by the powerful and used as a prop in a sinister narrative. As I approached the front door of the church, I was in a dark place.
And then, I saw it.
Greeting me that morning, as it has a few times before, was a pile of poop on the steps leading into the church. Human poop. And I thank God for that gross but profoundly holy moment. It’s not an uncommon thing to find human excrement around our historic, downtown church. We have many unhoused friends who call our block home. Every night, Room in the Inn (RITI), the expansive congregational shelter program in our city, uses our fellowship hall as the check-in site. Not everyone who shows up to get a bed at RITI is able to be accommodated, and many choose to camp out on our steps for the night. The lack of any public restroom downtown means that when unhoused Memphians have to do the things we all have to do, sometimes that means doing them around our church, including on the front steps. In my congregation, the sight of poop, or garbage, or soiled clothing strewn about may evoke frustration, but never anger. In many ways, it reminds us how very little security our unhoused friends have, and yet, it is around our building that they frequently feel the most safe and secure, and we wouldn’t want it any other way.
That particular morning, the sight of poop on the steps, which I knew I would have to clean up, saved me from what felt like a moment of utter despair. It anchored me back in the present moment, and in that one, physical location. While I was not delighted at the task ahead of me, I knew what to do. In a world that feels wildly unpredictable and leaves me feeling out of control, I know that my congregation will keep doing the thing we do best – loving our neighbors. Even when we don’t know what else to do as a witness for Christ in these turbulent times, we will keep doing what we have long done in feeding people, clothing people and befriending those who have been made poor and rendered invisible.
This Ash Wednesday, as we begin our Lenten journey with reflecting on the impermanence of life and our need for God’s grace, I pray that every person beginning this pilgrimage would have their own holy “poop on the steps” encounter. I pray that we are all reminded of how fragile our lives are, and how the right combination of events can sweep any of us into the very margins of society that Jesus calls us to move toward. And I pray that we all remember that even in times when the world around us feels most heavy and chaotic, and we are left feeling powerless, the greatest power comes from human connectivity. The real power in this world is not found in the curated headlines on a screen, but in the touch of a hand and the locking of eyes with another. This world would have us believe that humanity is lost, but the simple and selfless act of caring for another reveals the truth that God’s love, which lives inside each and every person created, connects us all in more powerful ways that any other destructive force in this world. The connective label “child of God” is a more permanent and accurate label than any of the manufactured labels being used to tear us apart from one another.
On this Ash Wednesday and every day that follows, may God forgive us, guard us, and guide us forward as we answer the call of Christ to do our part in bringing forth the Kingdom and Kin-dom of God. As we consider the short and sacred time we have on this earth, may we humbly seek our role in dispelling the myths that crowd our screens and weigh down our hearts, replacing them with the truth that we are ever-redeemable and loveable when we simply act as Christ in loving others.
Amen.
