Across the centuries, from a dim Roman prison cell, the apostle Paul sends out a line that glows like a coal in the dark: “Fan into flame the gift of God which is in you.” 2 Timothy 1:6. It speaks not only to Timothy but to anyone who has felt an inner fire tremble. All of us—whatever our faith, caste, language, or landscape—carry a hidden ember. Some call it potential, others conscience, imagination, or courage. It is the small strength that helps a person rise after disappointment, the stubborn hope that refuses to fade, the quiet voice that hints at who we might become. Yet even embers cool if ignored. Gifts shrink when fear presses in. India is full of such half-wakened flames. Young people with bright sparks hide their brilliance behind doubt. Women with leadership in their bones lower their voices to survive expectations. Honest workers tire of pushing against systems that reward the opposite. Students with ideas that could reshape the future shrink because they do not fit the mould. Our country is a vast landscape of unlit lamps. Paul names the danger: fear. A few lines earlier he reminds us that we are not shaped for fear but for power, love, and a disciplined mind. Fear narrows the heart. It whispers that we should stay safe, stay small, stay silent. It dims imagination until we forget that we were made to shine. To “fan into flame” is an act of intention:to notice the ember within, to shelter it from the wind, and to let it grow for the good of others. India’s hope will rise not only from policies or systems but from ordinary people who choose courage—teachers who awaken curiosity, nurses who serve with tenderness, entrepreneurs who build with integrity, neighbours who choose kindness over suspicion.
Encouraged by the example of Jesus Christ. Paul’s ancient message becomes modern wisdom: Do not let your flame die. Stir it. Even a small light, faithfully tended, can brighten an entire room.
