The night has grown late and the waiting weary. We watch the fire die. Now only embers glowing faintly. Now only ashes. The warmth of hope has grown cold and the dreams long cherished dwindle and die out, smothered by the harsh reality of an imperfect world. The darkness envelopes. Stiff and cold we rise and walk away.
Our hearts are broken, shattered in a million pieces. In those ashes is embodied everything we longed for, everything we knew as good. We lived for the fulfillment of the dream, for the long awaited day when that dream would be reality. Now this.
At first our hearts are numb, too numb to fully grasp our loss. A merciful state of shock, but then the questions come. Merciless, haunting, hounding. Why? What now? Is there any hope? And we go back, and we search through the ashes for just one shred of possible resurrection. And as we weep, and the shattered pieces of our hearts throb with hopes now in a million shards, we vow we'll never dream again.
It simply hurts too much.
It is here that one must make a choice when through the fog of pain a Voice is heard. Tenderly it is calling "Come unto Me." And the pain will either be a stumbling block, or a stepping stone to His heart. And will we have the courage to come? Will we have the courage to fall at His feet and look up into His face and say. "Thou hast given and taken away, blessed be Your name?" And if the why won't go away, will we have the courage to look up into those eyes of infinite love and ask, "Help me to understand?" Perhaps we'll hear Him say. "It was that cherished hope that stood between me and thee. I wanted you to know Me, thus I give and take away."
Then He takes our hand in His hand and He leads us to that place. To the alter of surrender. And the journey we retrace. And as we kneel beside those ashes we look up into His face and hear Him gently whisper. "My child this is grace.
I have come to appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, that He might be glorified.
You see child of My love, the very place of your breaking, will be the means of making a broken multitude whole, and the death of your dreams will give birth to even greater ones, and your courage to come will be the key to many coming. I promise you, you will dream again and from the ashes of your broken dreams will come the reality of My perfect beautiful plans for I am the hope of all the world.