Nobody wants to be a part of a dead church. Not even Jesus! In the last book of the Bible, the book of Revelation, we find Jesus speaking to the church in a city called Sardis, and you know what he says? He says: “I know your works; you have a name [for] being alive, but [actually] you are dead” (Rev. 3:1). In other words, their reputation was still intact, but, spiritually speaking, it was a lifeless congregation. What an indictment! And from the lips of Jesus himself! Here was a church that couldn’t have been more than a few decades old, and yet already it was dead.
You can tell when a church is dead. For one thing, there’s no sense of purpose. There’s no compelling reason for the church to exist. People just seem to be going through the motions. And, as someone has said, “When there is no vision, private agendas rise to the surface.” Suddenly, everything becomes “about me.” The church becomes a club with member benefits. There’s an inward focus, and all people want is to have their needs met. There comes about what the Bible calls “a famine…of hearing the words of the LORD” (Amos 8:11). It’s not that the Bible is not read; it may even be proclaimed from the pulpit and taught from the lectern. It’s just not listened to. It’s not obeyed. The Bible’s authority is minimized, and so people feel free to take it or leave it. And they don’t pray. At least, they don’t pray with much fervency or passion or expectation. And, on top of all that, there is often an atmosphere of criticism and blame. There is a climate of negativity, a downward spiraling of emotion. And, of course, when a church no longer knows what it is supposed to do – when it doesn’t have a clear sense of purpose – it tends to dissipate it resources in doing everything – or anything – else!
John Kotter, who is a Harvard business prof, says that stagnant organizations – like dead churches – are characterized by one or another of two highly dangerous conditions. I want you to listen to this. I want you to hear what it is Kotter has to say. He claims that the first hazardous condition is one of complacency. No surprise there. Right? But look at what he says about complacency. According to Kotter, complacency “always comes from success.” Isn’t that interesting? It “always comes from success and [unfortunately it] lives long after the success has disappeared.” Complacent churches don’t see what’s happening. They don’t see that past triumphs no longer provide the momentum they need for future survival.
The other hazardous condition is what Kotter calls a false sense of urgency. Now, according to Kotter, every organization – whether a church or a family or a school or a business – every organization needs a sense of urgency. But there is what he calls a false sense of urgency. While complacency is a result of waning success, false urgency is spawned by what? By a sense of failure. I can see that; can’t you? Attendance is down. Money is short. The building is crumbling. Whatever. And suddenly there is a flurry of activity. That’s the first sign of false urgency. People run from meeting to meeting. Agendas are crowded and lengthy. Everyone is engaged in a doing more and trying harder. And it doesn’t change a thing – except, perhaps, to make everyone feel exhausted.
There is probably no clearer portrayal of a dead church than Ezekiel’s vision of the valley of dry bones. I mean, look how graphic his description is! The valley was “full of bones.” There were, according to the prophet “very many” of them. It wasn’t just a pile here and there. The entire valley was blanketed with lifeless bones. Dry – Ezekiel says “very dry” – porous, sun-bleached bones. And did you notice what God said to Ezekiel near the end of the passage? He said, “Mortal, these bones are the whole house of Israel.”
Here was the congregation of Israel – the church under the Old Covenant – and it was as dead and lifeless as the congregation in Sardis, the church under the New Covenant. Maybe more so. As Ezekiel stood knee-deep in the midst of all those brittle bones on the valley floor, God asked him: “Mortal, can these bones live?” And that’s the question we want to get the answer to, isn’t it? But before we jump to the answer, I want us to look at something else.
And please understand: I’m not saying that our church is dead. I think we do sometimes slip into complacency because we think everything is fine, and I think we are sometimes tempted to engage in false urgency, slapping band-aids on perceived problems rather than getting to the root of them. But I don’t think we’re dead. I just don’t want us ever to slip into deadness. And I don’t think you do either.
Not long ago, one of the largest churches in our presbytery – a First Presbyterian Church in a major population area – saw its membership dwindle from hundreds to a handful. It took several years to happen, but it happened. They had to sell their big, beautiful downtown building and construct a more modest facility out on the edge of the city. And when that happened to that church, I thought to myself: That can happen to any church.
So, why do churches die? Again, I need to explain. I am not now diagnosing or assessing in any way the church I just described. I would never do that. I am not even able to do that. And, the fact is, that church – small as it is – may now be one of the most vital churches in our region, full of life and purpose and energy. So, I have no interest in doing a post mortem on that church. I am speaking more broadly, and I am asking: How does any church become like the congregation of Israel described in the book of Ezekiel or the congregation at Sardis, described in the book of Revelation?
To begin with, I don’t think it’s a matter of programs. New and better programs are not the answer. Neither do I think it has to do with what I call “the killer B’s:” budgets and buildings and bigger crowds. The problem is not money or space or attendance. The problem is spiritual, and, because the problem is spiritual, the solution is spiritual. Take the church in Sardis, for example. So many churches in the first century were beset either by persecution from without or by false teaching from within, but that doesn’t seem to be the case with the Sardis church. In his remarks to the Sardis church, Jesus siad they even had a good reputation. But it appears that they had lost their connection with God. They had no message, nothing particularly vital to say. They had no passion, no sense of purpose. It was just business as usual. G. B. Caird, one of the most respected New Testament scholars of our time, says that Sardis was “the perfect model of inoffensive Christianity.” George Eldon Ladd, another esteemed scholar, says that the Sardis church was “a picture of nominal Christianity, outwardly prosperous, busy with the externals of religious activity, but devoid of spiritual life and power.”
That’s actually what happened to ancient Israel, the congregation of God’s people that was now depicted as a landfill full of dry bones. They were quite busy with religious activity. Until they were taken into exile, the temple was running like a well-oiled machine. People were crowding into the temple precincts. Animal sacrifice was a booming business. Everything looked as it should. Apparently, all was fine. But God said through his prophet Isaiah, “When you come to appear before me, who has asked this of you, this trampling of my courts?” (Isa. 1:12, NIV). And through his prophet Amos, God said, “I hate, I despise your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies” (Amos 5:21). This is strong language. I mean, isn’t it? What was wrong? The people were going to church. They were warming the pews and singing the songs and reading the words and making the offerings, and they were doing all the rest. Why was God loathe to accept their worship? Because it wasn’t worship! Worship is more than just showing up. It’s more than just going through the routine. In Matthew 15:8, Jesus says, “This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me.” And that’s the issue, isn’t it? Our hearts! Our desires!
In May of 1979, actor Alan Alda spoke at the commencement ceremony for Columbia University Medical School. They invited him because of his role as Hawkeye Pierce, an army surgeon, in the popular TV series MASH. His speech was brief and, as you might guess, funny. And the way he ended it is memorable. He closed by saying to the graduating class: “And remember: the head bone is connected to the heart bone.” We need to remember that, too. When the heart goes out of our faith, then the life goes out of our church.
So, let’s go back to God’s question to Ezekiel: “Mortal, can these bones live?” Ezekiel was too overwhelmed by the spectacle to answer. So, what did he say? He said, “O Lord GOD, you know.” Safe answer.
So, what happened? God told Ezekiel to prophesy. What that means is: He told him to preach to the bones. And he did. He preached in the power of the Spirit. And when he wrote about it, he said, “Suddenly there was a noise, a rattling….” A rattling! That one word seizes my attention, stirs my hope. A rattling – a sign of life! And it came how? By the Word of God. It was God’s Word that brought the bones to life. Just as it was the word of our Lord that summoned Lazarus from the grave.
My friends, a vital congregation has its source in God. We can’t make a church come to life. We can’t revitalize it – not apart from this. Let’s thank God for the signs of life we have – because they have their origin in him. And if we think there is the possibility that we may ever slip into complacency or rush headlong into a false sense of urgency, let us observe the warning. But then, let us turn to God. He is the source of our life. And without him, everything may look just fine, but we could wind up a “whitewashed [tomb], which on the outside [looks] beautiful but inside [is] full of…bones” (Matt. 23:27).
