from outside my window, i can observe the trees turning from their deep greens lovely hues of orange, yellow and red. it seems as though this phenomenon captivates many of us, from dr. dave, to mob68 to the back porch collecting so many leaves that the website needs a rake.
i love autumn. it amazes me to see the transformation that takes place each season, how colorful the panorama becomes.
i've always loved this time of year. i can remember going to aspen, colorado, during the 10th grade, for a football game. we broke out of the huddle, and as the quarterback was barking out signals, giving an audible for me to streak down the field for a slant pass, i looked up to the mountains surrounding the field, and was awe-struck by the beauty of the changing aspens. moments later i was dumb struck by a forearm shiver to the head, delivered by the defensive cornerback who happened to be a little more familiar with his surroundings and a slightly less appreciative of the grandiosity of it all.
yeah....we lost that game, too.
anyway, back on point, here. amidst all the beauty of the changing seasons is the loss of understanding of what is actually happening to the trees when they becomse so colorful this time of year. They are responding to the coldness of the world, their resources are going into a mode of self-preservation. they are starving their outermost extensions of their own being, the very components used for growth and expansion. They are sacrificing their extensions so their essence can survive.
we see these trees in vibrant oranges, in deep reds, and fantastic yellows, and we think, ooooh how pretty. what we don't see is that the leaves themselves are being cut off from their source of life, they are withering on the branch, drying up, falling away, and dying. but because its pretty, we tend to romanticize it. once a leaf lands on the ground, its much less beautiful. now, its just something that has to be raked, bagged, and burnt.
now don't get me wrong, this isn't a rant sponsored by the arbor day society. i just see a tremendous analogy between the autumn tree and a large number of churches rooted in the forest of Christianity. time waits for noone and as the Holy Spirit advances us toward the culmination of God's plan, there is a strong possibility that we're likely in the autumn season, so to speak. when we look around, we see more churches than ever before. They exist in the largest, most modern, most advanced, most user-friendly buildings than we've ever had. Truly, the western church is a beauty to behold.
but in so many ways, it shares the same qualities as the tree advancing toward dormancy. more churches than ever before are doing less than ever before. we haven't evangelized our own country, much less the world. we outpace the world in divorces. we see people going to hell in an alarmingly rapid rate. but oooh, look at the pretty new building we just built. the new parking lot we just paved.
we put our resources in the things that will preserve the existing core rather than invest in growth and expansion. we fund cut ministry expenses before we cut pleasure expenses. christians bail on tithing before they cut out paying for their own follies. we can't pay for mission trips because we're saddled with debt. we have beautiful buildings with huge utility expenses that are going unused for 85% of the week. the church, in too many instances, is pulling back its resources, despite its beautiful appearance. too often, its attention turns in, rather than expending its resources on spiritual growth and kingdom advance. it worries more about core self-preservation than it does about supplying the body with life. and despite its beautiful appearance, it is doing everything it can just to survive.
i'm not saying this is every church. but it is too many churches. pretty on the outside, fighting just to make it through a spiritual winter on the inside. this is the current state of affairs for some entire denominations. denominations fighting over essential identity issues such as the ordination of homosexuals, the role of women in the church -- they exhaust so much of themselves on this battle that they never seem to notice the disenfranchised congregants whose very spiritual joy has been sucked from their marrow, and they fall away, much like the crinkled leaf from the upper branch in November.
what happens to the tree that cannot survive the harsh winter? it remains, a barren hull of itself. it experiences rot from the inside out. it offers none of its initial benefits -- capturing a breeze, offering its shade, providing a home to many of God's creatures. it is a skeletal waste of space until someone comes along and brings it down and removes it.
May God not allow that to be the destiny of the many, many churches in peril today. may He bring His life, His restoration to the vast number of congregations that have lost their first love, that are playing the game, that are going through the motions, that are impressive to observe, but impotent to serve.
God is at work. His Holy Spirit is not stopping to wait for you, or your church. Many churches are doing what God wants them to do and being who God has ordained them to be. make no mistake about it: these churches are full of life, are growing and are prospering. If you look at "the leaves of your church" and see beautiful hues of red, yellow, and orange, don't be so caught up in their transfixing, captivating appearance, that you forget the end result is that those leaves will fall to the earth, leaving behind a lifeless trunk with nothing to offer.