The metaphor, I hope, is both straightforward and memorable. When you transplant a plant from one ecosystem into another, the transplant may be possible. But because the soil and climate are different, the plant can struggle to survive and thrive.
I have argued that spiritual formation practices in Protestant spaces can face transplant shock. Practices that originated within Catholic and Orthodox traditions can struggle when transplanted into low-church Protestant spaces. And in this series, I have described a few reasons why.
The first and most obvious contrast, which frames everything that follows, is the cultural contrast between Catholicism and low-church Protestantism. Specifically, the "protest" part of Protestantism needs to be attended to. Historically and culturally, Protestantism has defined itself in contrast to Catholicism, often strongly and aggressively so. Consequently, practices associated with Catholicism can trigger allergic reactions. Candles, liturgical seasons, prayers from historic traditions, and practices like the examen or Lectio Divina feel suspicious simply because they appear "too Catholic."
The second contrast concerned communal versus individualistic soils. Historically, many spiritual formation practices were communal expectations and experiences. Everyone was doing them together. But in low-church Protestant spaces, these practices are often optional and individualized, which can morph spiritual formation into self-help, wellness, and optimization projects.
The third contrast concerned sanctification versus justification soils. Catholic and Orthodox traditions view salvation as a process of transformation into deeper participation in the life of God. In this view, spiritual practices are integral to salvation. Protestantism, by contrast, has emphasized justification. As a result, practices focused on discipline, effort, and transformation can trigger a "works-based righteousness" anxiety in Protestant spaces.
Closely related to the third contrast is the fourth: unitive versus forensic soils. Catholic and Orthodox traditions understand salvation as a journey toward divine union and theosis. Consequently, purification and transformation are not optional but the very means of salvation, the path toward the Beatific Vision. Protestantism, by contrast, has emphasized a forensic vision of salvation, where salvation is God's legal declaration of righteousness. Thus, practices aimed at purification and union with God can struggle in spaces where transformation is perceived as secondary to a juridical verdict of pardon.
The fifth contrast concerned monastic versus domestic/vocational soils. Many of the practices Protestants are recovering originated within monastic traditions, where the practices were integral to daily life. But when these practices are transplanted into ordinary family and vocational life, they are experienced as something inserted into or added onto our already crowded lives.
The sixth contrast concerned synergistic versus monergistic soils. Historically, both the Catholic and Orthodox traditions understood salvation as human cooperation with grace. We work because God is at work in us. Protestant traditions, by contrast, tend to be more suspicious of human effort. Consequently, the effort, strain, and discipline involved in many spiritual practices are experienced as threatening to grace.
The seventh contrast concerned ascetical/penitential versus therapeutic/affirmational soils. Practices like fasting, confession, self-denial, and Lent grew within traditions that assumed repentance, mortification, and penance. When these practices are transplanted into therapeutic and affirmational cultures, their underlying logic and rationale can be lost or simply rejected.
The eighth and last contrast concerned merit versus imputed righteousness. Within Catholicism, prayer, fasting, almsgiving, and acts of mercy are recognized and rewarded by God. When transplanted into traditions where merit is rejected, however, one of the most straightforward rationales for engaging in spiritual practices—that God delights in and rewards good deeds—has been removed.
Okay, given all of these locations of transplant shock, what are we to do about it?
Here's the point I want to make. Transplant shock does not mean the transplant cannot work. But because the plant is now living in a new ecosystem, it will require intentional attention. For example, if the new climate is drier, you'll need to water it more frequently. The soil may need to be fertilized. There are different pests to deal with. The point is that the plant can grow, but it will need continuous ecological cultivation to survive and thrive in the new environment.
And the same is true of spiritual formation practices in Protestant spaces.
The transplant can work, and it does work. But because the soil is different, Protestant communities will need to attend to that soil consistently and attentively, especially if they want spiritual formation to become a shared ecclesial practice rather than an individualistic, opt-in, DIY project.
For example, Dallas Willard's point that grace is not opposed to effort but opposed to earning will need to be repeated over and over again. Just like watering a plant, Protestant communities will need to continually cultivate a theological environment where discipline, practice, and effort are understood as cooperation with grace rather than a creeping works-based righteousness.
Relatedly, while sermons preaching gospel assurance will remain, they will need to be supplemented with sermons about sanctification, transformation, discipleship, and participation in the life of God.
In addition, churches will need to cultivate these practices communally rather than leaving them entirely to individual choice and preference.
And lastly, churches will need to continuously explain the rationale and purposes of many practices. Every year, for example, the purpose of Lent will need to be revisited and clarified. For my part, I find these annual "explainers" repetitive and exhausting, but they illustrate how Lent is an exotic transplant in my space.
In short, our response to transplant shock isn't abandoning the plant. It is attending to the new soil and the needs of the plant within the new ecosystem. Spiritual formation in Protestant spaces will require ongoing ecological cultivation. The transplant can work, and even flourish, but only if we learn how to cultivate the new soil.
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