- Spiritual decline is not typically an overnight phenomenon. The life of devotion suffers when the “salt” of gracelessness poisons our foundation.
Heard a preacher lately talk about “ghost forests.”
They are becoming a phenomenon along the east coast as sea levels rise and saltwater infiltrates the root systems of coastal forests. The trees might even showcase foliage for a while but the root system is either dead or dying, leaving the hope of survival rather grim. Upright – yes. Looks like a tree – yes. Form occupying space – yes. Dying – unquestionably.
The speaker applied this illustration to churches that might look alive, with programs and bulletins and activity and sermons, but in actuality are in decline and nearly dead. I suspect the same metaphor could be used for some nations – politically stable and perhaps even powerful but whose roots are soaking in the stuff of death. Organizations can suffer from a similar malady; think Blockbuster – staunchly clinging to a particular business model as the climate around them shifted and they suddenly found themselves eclipsed by newer, more agile entities that better adapted to changing markets.
But how about “ghost forests” and Christians? Could there be a lesson in those dead trees for us as believers? In Revelation, Jesus warned the church at Ephesus, “You have the reputation of being alive, but you are dead.” Apparently, it was a problem then, and anyone with spiritual eyes to see understands that it’s a problem today.
Spiritual decline is not typically an overnight phenomenon. The life of devotion suffers when the “salt” of gracelessness poisons our foundation. God’s grace saves us; trusting in ourselves and our devices is a recipe for spiritual expiration. His grace tends to flow into our lives through the means of prayer, Bible study, fasting, meeting together with other Christians corporately and in small groups, participating in the Lord’s supper, and practicing financial generosity to the Kingdom. Further, works of mercy in response to the physically and spiritually needy are essential. If self-help or either piety or mercy is absent, the “salt” of sure devotional death has begun to seep into our lives.
In December 1771 Francis Asbury, the father of American Methodism, wrote, “O that I may live to God and not to myself, and keep myself free from all worldly entanglements!” Those “worldly entanglements” can also be deadly “salt.” Goodness knows, we are at risk of distraction in the midst of a 24/7 news cycle, smart phones, and a constant barrage of information. Gambling in its various modern iterations, online pornography, wealth beyond historical compare and the major addictions of our modern era are only a few of the many possible entanglements that threaten healthy spirituality.
Most people today are overly concerned with appearances. We spend inordinate amounts of time and money to clothe ourselves, fix our faces, shine our teeth, manipulate our hair, and exercise our bodies to create an image of health and physical appeal. But we might be prioritizing our efforts in all the wrong places.
What do the roots of our lives suggest? And of what “salt water” do we need to beware?
While I was attending seminary to prepare for ministry, a relative remarked, “While you guys debate Calvin vs. Arminius and the finer points of theology, what people really want out here is just…life.”
But don’t be fooled. That life starts in unseen places before the fruit becomes noticeable. We should take heed of our spiritual root systems, lest we inadvertently become “ghost Christians.”
Matt Friedeman
