Volume 28, No. 40
October 26, 2003                   

Mountains of Evidence

   If you need proof that death and decay foster new life, there are tiny mountains of evidence scattered all over Africa.  They’re called termite mounds.

   Some of the largest form around the enormous baobab trees that tower over the equatorial grasslands.  Thick and rugged, the gigantic trees hold huge amounts of water.  During the dry months, elephants strip away the bark to get at the moisture inside, which saves their lives.

   But the trees soon die without their protective covering.  Immediately, the trunks are attacked by ravenous termites who eat the wood and recycle it into soil that eventually rejuvenates the grassy plains.  First though, the once-majestic trees are reduced to massive piles of dirt and wood dust.

   When the termites eventually move on, animals move in.  Warthogs dig into the soft, dark soil to make a hiding place for the night. Once those holes are abandoned, jackals or foxes often use them to hide their young.  Drawn by the termites that remain, snakes crawl into the many holes that permeate the mounds, and cheetahs climb to the tops of the earthen piles to spot predators and gazelles, their favourite food.  Life flourishes, not in spite of decay but largely because of it.

   It’s much the same in the spiritual realm when each of us undergoes a complete, often painful transformation from sinner to servant of God.  Once we become a Christian, it’s the power of the Holy Spirit that offers real help — and real hope.  “The Spirit is God’s guarantee that He’ll give us everything He promised and that He has purchased us to be his own people.  This is just one more reason for us to praise our glorious God.” (Eph. 1:14).

   He’s a glorious God who places the Spirit, the Living Water, deep within you.  Even though that Water is buried under layer-upon-layer of your old nature, his presence becomes obvious to those who need relief in a dry and desperate world. As God begins his work in your life, those thirsting for something better are drawn to you.  But their need will cost you incredibly.   Before they can taste the Living Water, you must allow the stripping away of every protective coating around your heart to lay bare the love and all-sufficiency of Christ.  It’s a risky process that will leave you open to abuse and betrayal, broken trust and bitter disappointment.  In fact, it will almost certainly mean the death of life as you used to live it.

   The reality is, when you place your trust in God, unafraid of the consequences, your time, energy and independence are depleted, leaving you dry and exposed.  Like termites, the tiny, transformative touches of the Holy Spirit erode your old life and reduce your former dreams and priorities to a pile of dust.

   But out of that decay comes a wondrous renewal.  The remains of who you once were stand as a proud testimony to God’s life-altering influence and, just as dead trees are recycled into soil, the old you gives way to something completely new and different.  You become the fertile ground in which those around you find security and protection, a safe place amid the harm and hostility of our conditional-love culture.
 
  Even as your own transformation continues, your experience and perspective can be the vantage point from which many spot their enemy and find food for the soul.  Eventually, as your influence is spread evenly, you’ll bring to the spiritual landscape a richness and fertility that could never have happened without the death and decay of your old ego.

   Faith really does move mountains.  Even small ones.

By Rick Gamble, published in Cross Current, the weekly newsletter of the Followers of Christ congregation in Brantford, Ontario, Canada.  Reprint at will in not-for-profit publications.  To subscribe, contact sgamble@bfree.on.ca