A journal of commentary, narrative and poetry about navigating through life

the flame

February 25, 2004

The Flame and the Hope

There is a season in a man’s or woman’s life when the fires of passion and meaning falter. In that time, the flames rise and fall, then slowly recede, to finally dwindle into smolder and smoke and disappear beneath the ashes of what was once an undaunted vision, filled with hope, inspiration and drive. The relentless drip of life’s cold reality finally extinguishes that which we once fanned and fueled with such intensity.

This is not merely a syndrome of advancing age. It may occur when we are forty, fifty or sixty — but more blessedly, when we are twenty.  It is in such a season that we recognize the need for someone or something that is greater than our self. We long for someone who does not fail as we fail or come up short as we do so many times — someone who will restore meaning into our lives when meaning seems to have withered and died under the drip of time and reality. We long for the fire of genuine, lasting passion in our soul, a lover to draw out our best from the hidden wells, someone who loves relentlessly, who gives strength amidst our proven weakness.

So what happened to the romance, love and adventure we dreamed of and, yes, expected? What happened to the deep satisfaction that was to be the reward of accomplishing and overcoming great odds? In such a season as this we are left with a longing for some one; but, alas, there is no one, no man or woman alive who can fulfill this need. There never has been; it has been a grand myth all along, an illusion. Time has proven this in an unkindly manner, generation after generation after generation.

The only one who is not confused about this reality, the one who has never been confused by it — is God our father. He is the father of love, the creator of passion, the very fountainhead of meaning. He knew our weaknesses and needs all along. He knew the hopelessness of our quest for meaning, the futility of our search for fulfilling love and passion in relationship — without a relationship with him. But he is God and we are only human. How could we know what he knows?

Spurred by his knowing love he sent his son Jesus, in his exact image and "our" frame. And Jesus provided an entrance, a way that we can experience relationship with our creator. Though he is God and we are merely mortal flesh, we can know relentless love, unfathomably deep meaning, a state of being that is more than enough, and rich, unending fulfillment.

The challenge, as preposterous as it sounds to any logical mind, is to remember, to keep in front of us what God has done and how we are made, to call upon him to keep the fires flaming hot. It is to keep our hope and meaning firmly fixed in our Father, through the Lord Jesus — and not to be distracted by the very things that proved so empty in the first place. Paul aptly reminds us, in Ephesians 1:18-20:

"I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened, so that you will know what is the hope of His calling, what are the riches of the glory of His inheritance in the saints, and what is the surpassing greatness of His power toward us who believe. These are in accordance with the working of the strength of His might which He brought about in Christ, when He raised Him from the dead and seated Him at His right hand in the heavenly places..."

I wrote the poem, New Moon Light  after I had gone through a season of self-sustained passion and search for meaning, when I had reached the end of my own ability to sustain real love and experience lasting fulfillment and hope. This poem is about the quest and the dying flame. It was a dark time but also one of opportunity: I was finally ready to listen.

New-Moon Light

  

New moon rising, imaginings of light,
Where delusive dreams of refuge
Promise deeply kissed respite,
And passionate words of longing,
Diffuse at desperate height.

 

 But the kiss, the hope, the dream…

 

Never yields what it might,

For asylum from the truth,

Is only shelter from the light,

Sacrificing soul and spirit

For mere wanton love by night.

-  Thomas Fideler

Let me close by sharing a prayer attributed to St. Francis, about living and dying. It declares, quite clearly the heart of offering our lives unto the service of the Lord as he reaches out through us to bring life:

"Lord, make us instruments of your peace. Where there is hatred, let us sow love;  where there is injury, pardon;  where there is discord, union;  where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand, to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, and  it is in dying that we are born to eternal life."