Bendangliba Andrew
Not long ago, I attended a Sunday service at a well-known church. The atmosphere was welcoming, the music was well-organized and the sermon was thoughtful and clear. Everything about the service went smoothly. It started and ended on time, everything was in place and people seemed encouraged. But as I sat there, a question kept coming to my mind: Is this really what it’s supposed to be about? Is something missing? I left that day still thinking about it. Later, I was reminded of how worship looked in the Old Testament. In Leviticus 6:13, God commands, “The fire must be kept burning on the altar continually; it must not go out.” That fire wasn’t symbolic
It was the heart of the altar. Sacrifices were placed on the altar and the ashes that remained were visible signs that worship had taken place that something valuable had been offered. Each morning, the priests were required to remove the ashes, not to clean up mess but to honor what had been consumed. Ashes were proof that the fire had done its work. An altar without ashes would have meant no fire, no offering and no encounter with God.
Today, many of us still attend church, sing songs and pray. We maintain the outward form of worship. But the question remains: are there ashes? Is there any sign of surrender, transformation or something within us truly laid down? Altar without ashes reflects a deeper spiritual condition in our time, especially in communities where Christian faith is widely practiced but often rarely lived out with personal cost or inner change.
Inherited Faith without Inner Conviction
In many families and communities, faith is something passed down. People are raised in Christian homes, attend church, know the language of belief and follow familiar rituals. This kind of religious heritage can be a blessing but it can also become routine. When faith is inherited but not internalized, it loses its power to change lives. It becomes more about tradition than transformation. People may participate in worship out of habit, not because their hearts are engaged. In the Old Testament, people brought their own offerings to the altar. It was personal. Worship required decision and sacrifice. Today, when we borrow belief from our surroundings but never make it our own, our altar stay empty.
Worship without Sacrifice
Modern worship services often emphasize music, energy and atmosphere. While these can create meaningful experiences, the heart of worship is not emotion but it is about surrender. In biblical times, worship always involved giving something up. Whether it was a lamb, grain or incense, it cost something. Today, we sometimes confuse worship with entertainment. We sing, we listen and we leave. But if we never bring anything of ourselves- our pride, our comfort and our time then it shows no real offering has taken place. An altar without ashes reminds us that worship without sacrifice is incomplete. We may enjoy the service but if it doesn’t challenge or change us because we haven’t truly engaged.
Religious Institutions That Preserve but Don’t Purify
Churches and Christian institutions are meant to be places of growth, guidance and renewal. But sometimes, these institutions focus more on preserving order than provoking change. They become protective of their image, careful to avoid conflict and hesitant to confront hard truths. In the Old Testament, the altar was not a safe or decorative space. It was messy. It dealt with sin, guilt and brokenness. The presence of ashes meant something painful but necessary had taken place. When religious institutions avoid the hard work of truth-telling and accountability, they keep things tidy but at the cost of spiritual integrity. The altar may look impressive but the lack of ashes shows that it no longer burns for justice or repentance.
Spiritual Language without Ethical Depth
In many Christian settings, we’ve become fluent in religious language. We speak of blessings, breakthrough, calling and destiny. But if these words are not backed by ethical living by honesty, humility, fairness and love then they lose their meaning. Ashes, in Scripture, were always the result of a real encounter. Today, when our words sound spiritual but our lives remain unchanged, we face the danger of hollow faith. We talk about transformation but avoid hard choices. We speak of grace but refuse to forgive. We pray for revival but hold on to habits that sabotage it. Without ethical depth, our language becomes noise. The altar may be busy with words but without ashes, there is no weight behind them.
Cultural Christianity without Spiritual Fire
In regions where Christianity is culturally dominant, it is easy for the faith to become assumed rather than pursued. People grow up attending church, celebrating Christian holidays and identifying as believers but without ever being personally convicted or renewed. This leads to spiritual stagnation. People know the routine but their hearts feel distant. They may believe in God but don’t experience Him. They may avoid doing wrong but neither do they pursue what is right with passion. The result is faith that is respectable but not alive. Publicly, it looks religious. Privately, it feels dry.
Community without Consecration
We may identify as a “Christian majority state” or a “Christian family,” but where are the marks of consecration? Where are the ash-stained garments of humility, mercy and justice? It’s one thing to wear the label “Christian,” but quite another to live a life that is set apart for God. Consecration is not about religious infrastructure or denominational identity. It is about a life surrendered, a people marked by holiness and compassion. We have inherited the altar, but have forgotten the fire. A consecrated community is known not by its numbers, but by its character, its hunger for truth, its tenderness toward the poor, its willingness to repent and forgive. But when pride, corruption and division define our culture, we must ask whether our Christian identity is only cultural and not spiritual. A Christian community without repentance becomes a religious society, not the Body of Christ. Without the ashes of repentance, we may still gather at the altar but it is empty of power, empty of presence and eventually empty of meaning.
Ministry without Brokenness
Many of us serve, preach, lead and teach but without personal burning. We try to offer Christ what costs us nothing. One of the greatest challenges facing the Church today is the tendency toward ministry that is highly public and visible yet lacks personal commitment and genuine sacrifice. We can speak eloquently about God, organize events, even inspire others, yet remain untouched ourselves. Brokenness is not about weakness, it is about dependence. It is the inner fire that refines motives, softens hearts and makes room for the Spirit to work through us. In Scripture, God never used anyone greatly until He had broken them deeply like Moses, David, Elijah and Paul. Ministry without brokenness becomes self-driven, image-conscious and emotionally shallow. We may impress people but we do not impact heaven. David said, “I will not offer to the Lord that which costs me nothing.” (2 Samuel 24:24) But in our case, we offer time, titles and talent but not our hearts. We give what is convenient in terms of our schedule, our platforms and our skills but withhold what is costly: our pride, our comfort and our idols. And so the altar remains clean, untouched by fire and absent of ashes. Real ministry begins where our self-sufficiency ends. Without personal burning, there can be no true offering.
Conclusion
The image of an “altar without ashes” is not a criticism of worship spaces or religious systems. It is a reminder to check if anything real is happening beneath the surface. True worship is not just about what we do on Sundays. It’s about whether we are being changed, whether something in us is regularly being surrendered to God, challenged, refined and renewed. Ashes are a sign that something valuable has been laid down. They show that the fire is still burning. Without them, we may be left with only the appearance of faith, a shell without substance. Today, our altar are no longer made of stones or bronze but they are spiritual in nature found in our hearts, our decisions and our moments of surrender to God. Where there is no true surrender and no visible sign of change, we may still be at the altar but without ashes. But there is hope. Fires can be rekindled. Altars can be restored. All it takes is a willing heart to return, not to performance but to presence; not to routine, but to relationship. When we bring our flaws, fears and failures God still responds. The fire still falls. And the ashes remain as quiet proof: worship happened here.
