Gathering the Embers: When Faith Breaks, Who Holds the Fire?

Gathering the Embers: When Faith Breaks, Who Holds the Fire?

No one prepares you for the silence after the breaking.

For the way the world keeps moving while you stand in the wreckage, still holding the pieces. For the way certainty disappears, not in a single moment, but in a slow unraveling—until one day, you realize you are no longer who you were, and you do not know what comes next.

Maybe faith once felt sturdy, built on words that made sense, rituals that gave shape to something unseen. Maybe you were sure of where you stood, of what you believed, of where this road was headed.

And then the fire came.

Not all at once. Maybe it started as a flicker, a question you couldn’t unask, a grief that didn’t fit inside the answers you were given. Maybe it burned slow at first, controlled. But then one day, it was everywhere, consuming what once felt solid.

And now, you are here, standing in the aftermath, asking:

What now?

The Fire & The Undoing: When Everything Falls Apart

Loss doesn’t always look like leaving.

Sometimes, it looks like staying, but knowing you no longer belong. It looks like showing up and feeling like an outsider in the place that once felt like home.

Sometimes, it looks like sitting through a sermon with tears in your eyes, because the words no longer hold the weight they once did. Sometimes, it looks like prayer turning into silence, into questions, into something that no longer feels like prayer at all.

And it’s not just the theology, or the belief system, or the institution.

It’s the friendships that fray under the weight of what you can no longer say.
It’s the way people shift when you stop pretending to be who they expect.
It’s the loneliness of realizing that what once tethered you to a community is gone, and you are floating somewhere in between.

And the hardest part?

The breaking is easy to name. But no one tells you what to do with what’s left.

What Still Glows in the Ashes?

This is what I know: Fire strips things down to what is real.

What remains when everything else is gone?

What still flickers, even when the wildfire has passed?

Not the performance.
Not the obligation.
Not the certainty.

What remains is presence.

The quiet, steady pulse of something still alive in you. The knowing that won’t let go, even when belief has unraveled. The warmth of a conversation that doesn’t rush you toward answers, but holds space for the questions.

What remains is the ember.

And even when it feels like nothing is left, even when the cold creeps in, it only takes a spark.

Gathering the Embers: Who Holds the Fire When You Have Nothing Left?

Here’s the truth no one tells you: You don’t hold the fire alone.

Even if it feels like you do. Even if you are standing in the dark, convinced that no one else understands what you have lost.

There are others, just like you, keeping the embers warm. Not to rebuild the old thing. Not to force a structure onto something that has outgrown its walls.

But to sit together.
To remember what is still real.
To tend to what still glows.

Because faith was never meant to be held in isolation.

Because no one survives the wilderness alone.

The Invitation: You Don’t Have to Rebuild Alone

If you have been carrying this alone, if you have felt the cold settle in after the burning—this is for you.

Not as a prescription. Not as a set of answers.

But as an open door. A place by the fire. A reminder that you do not have to do this by yourself.

Because faith was never meant to end in the wreckage.

There are still embers burning. There are still hands holding the fire.

And there is still time to gather.

🔥 What Comes Next?

💬 Does this speak to something in you? I’d love to hear your story. Share in the comments or connect with me here

📖 For those who want to go deeper:

• Explore the journey of faith and belonging in Known: Finding God, Yourself, and the Belonging You Were Made For: A 10-Week Journey to Feeling Seen, Loved, and Held by God

🌿 Looking for a space to process? If you’re navigating faith, grief, or longing and want a companion in the process, learn more here

🔥 The embers are still warm. Let’s gather.