Dreams Die – Part 1

Sometimes dreams die. I’ve heard all the cliches, and probably, you have too. Things like, “before the spring comes, things must die.” While those sayings are true, they don’t help much when you’re stuck in winter.

What is helpful is being given some tools that can encourage you through that time of discouragement and loss. Several years ago, my pastor’s sermon challenged me to go back to sacred roots. (1) Sacred roots are the unique parts of a person that give life meaning and purpose. Sacred roots are given by God and are to be dedicated to Him. By going back to my sacred roots, I would, at the very least, have some hope that I could begin to dream again.

At the end of this particular service, an invitation was given to ask for prayer. That was definitely the last thing I wanted to do, but, in obedience to God’s tugging, I humbly asked the associate pastor’s wife if she’d pray on my behalf and ask God to show me what those sacred roots were. I didn’t even know where to start. All I knew for sure was that along with losing my dreams, I had lost my passions and therefore, the essence of myself. To put it in Alice in Wonderland terms, I had lost my “muchness.”

God began answering that prayer. Over the next few blogs, I will share the story of how God planted those sacred roots again in my life. But before God could begin that process, He showed me that I was accountable for quenching the Spirit’s fire in my life. (2)

God provides fire, but the Scriptures teach us that we humans are responsible for tending it. After God sent fire from heaven to the altar, God gave specific instructions to the priests to tend the fire so that it would never go out. (3) Paul probably had these principles in mind when he instructed Timothy to, “… fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you.” (4)

When giving out instructions to the priests, God specifically singled out peace offerings. This is intriguing because although all types of offerings would be burned on that fire throughout the day, why only mention peace offerings? Peace offerings were a symbol of the covenant between God and Israel. A portion was offered to God and the meat was eaten by the offerer (think Passover lamb). The intent was to sit down at God’s table and share a meal together in peace. When I neglect tending the fire God has given me, I will also neglect to sit at His table and be fed by Him. And, pretty soon, I will not be at peace with Him or with myself. I will discover that all is not right.

Another interesting thing about fire is that fire doesn’t burn hot with flames all the time. The Tabernacle / Temple fire demonstrates that it is natural for fire to burn hot and then low (think campfire). This teaches us that we shouldn’t feel spiritually depressed when our flame turns low, as if something is wrong with us. We simply need to attend to our duties like the priests were faithful to do, we: remove ashes, add fresh fuel, fan the coals and stoke the fire again.

I really wanted to blame my lack of fire / passion on what people had done to me and on my circumstances. Although it is true that people will saunter over to my fire and try to stomp it out, this doesn’t mean I therefore have a right to neglect my own duties. Removing old ashes might look like forgiveness. Adding fresh fuel might look like reconciliation and humility. Fanning the coals into flame might look like fasting and intense prayer. And, stoking the fire again might be allowing God to heal and then, getting back up and trying again.

Beth Moore said, “If we do not burn with a passionate flame, it is because we have limited God, who prepared us for victory.”(5) Over time, I slowly neglected tending the passions and gifts God had put within me. And, by doing that, I was limiting God, and inadvertently yanking out my sacred roots.

To get back on track, I had to admit that I was not diligent, as the priests were, to never let the sacred fire from God go out. So, I repented and asked the Lord to rekindle that fire in me. My prayer sounded something like this, “I am afraid to ask. I can make no promises of keeping Your fire alive, but I will ask. Will You please relight a fire within me that is even better than the one I had before? I am sorry about not being diligent to guard what You had given me. I will wait patiently for you to light the fire again, when I am ready. I know You didn’t light the fire on the altar of the Tabernacle until everything was accomplished. So, do Your work in me.”

Today, I say it again, do Your work in me. Plant sacred roots so that I can tend them. Give me passion and desire to serve You again. Help me to be faithful to tend the fire you send my way. Blessed are You, Lord, the giver of all good things.