Dreams in Ashes
Matthew 28:18-20 talks of the Great Commission: a universal mission whose central focus is to make disciples. The process involves going out, baptizing new believers in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and teaching them to observe all of Jesus’ teachings. In effect, this mission ultimately leads to salvation and the hope of eternal life.
When preaching the gospel and leading people to Christ, the target is often that of individuals living a life similar to the prodigal son in Luke 15:11-32: those who do not know of Christ and live a life that reflects their ignorance: squander, debauchery, and a life void of God’s presence.
There is often a group that is, however, overlooked. One that is quiet and saddled in the back. They are not the atheists who dispute the existence of God. Neither are they the ones who essentially live a life filled with worldly desires. On the contrary, they mirror the older brother in the story of the prodigal son.
These are the ones who do just enough that makes them barely stand out but still enough not to warrant any attention or intervention. They have received salvation; they are well attuned to the doctrines; they have sung praises of His name and knelt in adoration. Yet, their lives have barely had any significant shifts.
Like the older brother, their lives have revolved around duty and responsibility. They have stayed in the father’s house and never strayed. They have been diligent; perhaps even at the forefront at one point or another. And yet, there is something that is amiss. Something got lost along the way in the expectation of the Father’s goodness.
They sit on Sunday pews and listen to sermons; they occasionally say a prayer; they are part of the groups and committees, albeit similar to silent partners. In terms of giving and tithe, they are faithful stewards. Never the ones to be loud or troublemakers, they have no impending sense of doom.
Yet in as much as things change for them, so do they remain the same. The actions of faith became part of daily rituals. The promise of greater things remains just that: a promise. They do not reject the faith but it does not move or faze them anymore. It is simply just a cog in the wheel.
After some time, the rain started to beat them down. Those who often hold on to hope find themselves not only disappointed, but crushed. With every shifting season, the promises of bloom and cheer wilted and turned into piles of dust and ash.
Prophecies declared and powerful words uttered over their lives. They held on to that firmly and deeply, yet the delay persisted. The emotions heightened but the moves never came. The encounters became events that only lasted momentarily.
And as the days go by, the seasons became tougher and the heart hardened otherwise they couldn’t survive. The whispers behind their backs made their resolve harder: to close off their hearts and keep their distance.
When the cycle of life ends, death came beckoning and a great loss was felt. Moments of questioning and a heart broken beyond repair, only to be met with platitudes that were condescending. The wounds deepened and so did the intensity that came with it.
They have eternal life breathed into them yet the fire in them fizzled out. What was once a burning ember is now simply a faded, dimmed flicker.
