Unity
Welcome with open arms fellow believers who
don’t see things the way you do. (Romans 14:1)
Congratulations! You’ve been enlisted
as a Seaman in God’s navy. But this isn’t the Love Boat – it’s a
battleship. And we haven’t been called to a life of leisure, but to a life of
service. Each of us has a different task. Some concerned with those who are
drowning are snatching people out of the water. Others are occupied with the
enemy, so they man the cannons of prayer and worship. Still others devote
themselves to the crew, feeding and training the crew members. Though
different, we’re the same – each can tell of a personal encounter with the
captain because each of us received a personal call. So, we followed him across
the gangplank of his grace and onto the ship. There’s one captain and one
destination. And though the battle is fierce, the boat is safe because our
captain is God. The ship won’t sink. Of that there’s no concern.
There is a concern, however, about the
disharmony of the crew, because when we first boarded ship we assumed the crew would
be made up of others just like ourselves. But as we’ve wandered the decks,
we’ve come across some curious converts with even stranger appearances. Some
wear uniforms we’ve never seen, sporting styles we’ve never witnessed. “Why do
you look the way you do?” we ask them. “That’s funny,” they reply. “We were just
about to ask you the same question.”
But the variety of dress is not
nearly as disturbing as the number of opinions. There’s a group, for example,
who cluster every morning for serious study. They promote rigid discipline and
somber expressions. “Serving the captain is serious business,” they say. So, it’s
no coincidence that they tend to congregate around the stern. Then, there’s another
group who are deeply devoted to prayer. Not only do they believe in prayer,
they believe in prayer by kneeling. For that reason you always know where to
locate them – they’re at the bow of the ship. And then there’s a few who
staunchly believe real wine should be used in the Lord’s Supper. You’ll find
them on the port side, of course. Still another group has positioned themselves
near the engine. They spend hours examining the nuts and bolts of the boat. In
fact, they’ve been known to go below deck and not come up for days. And they’re
occasionally criticized by those who linger on the top deck feeling the wind in
their hair and the sun on their face. “It’s not what you learn,” the topsiders
argue. “It’s what you feel that matters.”
Even stranger yet are the ones who think
that once you’re on the boat, you can’t get off. Others say you’d be foolish to
go overboard, but the choice is yours. Some predict a storm of great
tribulation will strike before we dock; others say it won’t hit until we’re safely
ashore. And then there’s those who speak to the captain in a personal language,
and those who think such languages are extinct. Some think the officers should
wear robes, while others think there should be no officers at all, and others
still who think we’re all officers and we should all wear robes. And the weekly
meeting at which the captain is thanked and his words are read? Some want it
loud, others quiet. Some want ritual, others spontaneity. Some want a meeting
for those who’ve gone overboard. Others want to reach those overboard without actually
going overboard and neglecting those on-board.
The result? A rocky boat. There’s trouble
on deck. Fights have broken out. Sailors have refused to speak to each other. There’s
even been times when one group refused to acknowledge the presence of another
group on the ship. Even more tragically, some adrift at sea have chosen not to
board the boat because of the quarreling of the sailors. Really? Yes, really.
On the last night of his life, Jesus
prayed a prayer that stands as a citadel for all Christians: “I pray for these
followers, but I am also praying for all those who will believe in me because
of their teaching. Father, I pray that they can be one. As you are in me and I
am in you, I pray that they can also be one in us. Then the world will believe
that you sent me.” (John 17:20) Jesus, knowing the end was near, prayed one
final time for his followers. Striking, isn’t it? Because Jesus didn’t pray for
their success, their safety, or their happiness. He prayed for their unity. He
prayed that they would love each other. And as he prayed for them, he also
prayed for “those who will believe because of their teaching.” And that’s us.
In other words, unity matters to God.
The Father doesn’t want his kids quarreling. Disunity disturbs him. Why?
Because “all people will know that you are my followers if you love each other.”
(John 13:35) Unity creates belief. And how will the world believe that Jesus
was sent by God? Not if we agree with each other. Not if we solve every
controversy. Not if we’re unanimous on each vote. Not if we never make a
doctrinal error. But by loving one another. Unity creates belief. Disunity
fosters disbelief. And who wants to board a ship full of bickering sailors?
Life on the ocean may be rough, but at least the waves don’t call you names. So,
could it be that unity is the key
to reaching the world for Christ?
If so, then shouldn’t it have priority
in our prayers? Shouldn’t we, as Paul said to the church in Ephesus (Eph. 4:3),
“make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace”?
If unity matters to God, then shouldn’t unity matter to us? If unity is a
priority in heaven, then shouldn’t it be a priority on earth? Nowhere, by the
way, are we told to build unity. We
are simply told to keep unity. From
God’s perspective there is but “one flock and one shepherd.” (John 10:16) Unity
does not need to be created; it simply needs to be protected. OK, but how do we
do that? How do we make every effort to keep the unity? Does that mean we
compromise our convictions? No. Does that mean we abandon the truths we
cherish? No. But it does mean we look long and hard at the attitudes we carry.
Unity doesn’t begin in examining
others but by examining ourselves. Unity begins, not in demanding that others
change, but in admitting that we aren’t so perfect ourselves, either. For a
great example of this, go to a village called Capernaum and enter a small house
occupied by Jesus and the disciples. Listen as the Master asks them a question.
“What were you arguing about on the road?” (Mark 9:33) The disciples’ faces
flush, not red with anger but pink with embarrassment, because they’d argued.
About doctrine? No. Over strategy? Not that either. Ethics and values? Sorry. They’d
argued about which of them was the greatest. Peter thought he was (he’d walked
on water). John laid claim to the top slot (he was Jesus’ favorite). Matthew
boasted he was the best (after all, his book would be first in the New
Testament). Power plays and one-upmanship. Is that where division usually
begins? “Where jealousy and selfishness are, there will
be confusion and every kind of evil.” (James 3:16) “Do you know where your
fights and arguments come from? They come from the selfish desires that wage
war within you.” (James 4:1) Remarkable. Jockeying for position in
the very presence of Christ. But not as remarkable as Jesus’ response to them. “Whoever accepts a child like this in my name
accepts me. And whoever accepts me accepts the One who sent me.” (Mark 9:37) Jesus
felt so strongly about acceptance that he used the word four times in just one
sentence.
The answer to arguments? Acceptance.
The first step to unity? Acceptance. Not agreement, acceptance. Not unanimity,
acceptance. Not negotiation, arbitration, or elaboration. Those might come
later but only after the first step - acceptance. But the answer troubled John.
Too simplistic for the Son of Thunder who was unacquainted with tolerance. Why,
you just can’t go around “accepting” people! Fences have to be built.
Boundaries are a necessary part of religion. Case in point? John has one. “Teacher, we saw someone using your name to
force demons out of a person. We told him to stop, because he does not belong
to our group.” (Mark 9:38) You see, John has a dilemma. He and the
other disciples ran into someone who was doing great work. This man was casting
out demons (the very act the disciples had trouble doing a few verses earlier).
He was changing lives. And, what’s more, the man was giving the credit to God.
He was doing it in the name of Christ. Everything about him was so right. Right
results. Right heart. But there was one problem. He was from the wrong group.
So the disciples did what any
able-bodied religious person would do with someone from the wrong group. They
escorted him to the hull of the ship and put him in confinement. “We told him
to stop, because he does not belong to our group.” (v. 38) And John wants to
know if they did the right thing. But John’s not cocky; he’s just confused. So
are many people today because what do you do about good things done in another
group? What do you do when you like the fruit but not the orchard? For
instance, I deeply appreciate my heritage. But through the years, my faith has
been supplemented by people of other groups. I wasn’t long on God’s ship before
I found encouragement in other staterooms. A British Anglican by the name of C.
S. Lewis put muscle in my faith. A Southern Baptist helped me understand grace.
A Catholic, Brennan Manning, who died just a few days ago, convinced me that
Jesus is relentlessly tender. And I hope that I’m a better husband and father because
I read James Dobson.
So, what do you do when you see great
works done by folks of other groups? Not divisive acts. Not heretical teachings.
But good works that give glory to God? Well, let’s return to the conversation
between Jesus and the disciples. But before noting what Jesus said to John,
note what he didn’t say. Jesus didn’t say, “John, if the people are nice, they’re
in.” Because generous gestures and benevolent acts are not necessarily a sign
of a disciple. Just because a group is distributing toys at Christmas doesn’t
mean they’re Christians. Just because they’re feeding the hungry doesn’t mean they’re
the honored ones of God. Jesus doesn’t issue a call for blind tolerance, any
more than he endorses blanket rejection. However, if unanimity of opinion were
necessary for fellowship, this would have been the perfect time for Jesus to
say so. But he didn’t. Jesus didn’t hand John a book of regulations by which to
measure every candidate.
“Don’t stop him, because
anyone who uses my name to do powerful things will not easily say evil things
about me.” (Mk. 9:39) You see, Jesus was impressed with the man’s pure faith (“…who uses my name”)
and his powerful fruit (“…to do powerful
things”). And his answer offers us a crucial lesson on studied tolerance. So, how
should you respond to a good heart from a different religious heritage? First,
look at the fruit. Is it good? Is it healthy? Is he or she helping or hurting
people? Production is more important than pedigree. The fruit is more important
than the name of the orchard. If the person is bearing fruit, be grateful. A
good tree cannot produce bad fruit (see Matt. 7:17), so be thankful that God is
at work in other groups than yours. But also look at the faith. In whose name
is the work done? Jesus was accepting of this man’s work because it was done in
the name of Christ. OK, but what does it mean to do something “in the name of
Jesus”? It means you’re under the authority of, and empowered by that name.
Here’s what I mean.
If I go to a car dealership and say I
want a free car, the salespeople are going to laugh at me. If, however, I go
with a letter written and signed by the owner of the dealership granting me a
free car, then I drive off in a free car. Why? Because I am there under the
authority of, and empowered by the owner. The Master says examine the person’s
faith. If he or she has faith in Jesus and is empowered by God, grace says
that’s enough, and I think that’s an important point because there are some who
do not work in God’s name. For instance, remember the rock-stackers and the
finger-pointers in the parable? They present a salvation of works rather than a
salvation of grace. They’re not working in the name of God. In fact, they don’t
need God. They’re working under the banner of human-merit self-righteousness.
But there are believers in many
different heritages who cast their hope in God’s firstborn Son and put their
faith in the cross of Christ. If they, like you, are trusting him to carry them
to the Father’s mansion, don’t you share a common Savior? If their trust, like
yours, is in the all-sufficient sacrifice of Christ, aren’t you covered by the
same grace? “You mean they don’t have to be in my group?” No. “They don’t have
to share my background?” They don’t. “They don’t have to see everything the way
I do?” Does anyone?
What’s important is their fruit and
their faith. Later, a much more tempered Son of Thunder would reduce it to this:
“Whoever confesses that Jesus is the Son of God has God living inside, and that
person lives in God.” (1 John 4:15) Ironic. The one who’d earlier challenged
the simple answer of the Master eventually rendered the simplest answer
himself. And it should be simple: where’s there’s faith, repentance and a new
birth, there’s a Christian. Wasn’t that Paul’s approach? When he wrote the
church in Corinth, he addressed a group of Christians guilty of every sin from
abusing the Lord’s Supper to arguing over the Holy Spirit. But how does he
address them? “I beg you, brothers and sisters….” (1 Cor.
1:10) And when the church in Rome was debating whether to eat meat
offered to idols, did Paul tell them to start two churches – one for the
meat-eaters, and another for the non-meat-eaters? No. Instead, he urged,
“Christ accepted you, so you should accept each other, which will bring glory
to God.” (Rom. 15:7)
Frankly, is God asking us to do
anything more than what he’s already done? Hasn’t he gone a long way in
accepting us? If God can tolerate my mistakes, can’t I tolerate the mistakes of
others? If God allows me, with my foibles and failures, to call him Father,
shouldn’t I extend the same grace to others? In fact, who can offer grace
except those who are securely in its grip? If God doesn’t demand perfection,
should I? “They are God’s servants,” Paul reminds
us, “not yours. They are responsible to him, not to
you. Let him tell them whether they are right or wrong. And God is able to make
them do as they should.” (Rom. 14:4)
God’s ship is a grand vessel. And just
as a ship has many rooms, so God’s kingdom has room for many opinions. But just
as a ship has one hull, God’s kingdom has a common ground: the all-sufficient
sacrifice of Jesus Christ. Will you pray with me for the day when the world is
won because the church is one? Will you pray with me for the day when we come
out of our rooms and stand together to salute our captain? Jesus’ final prayer
before the cross was for the unity of his followers. So, would Jesus offer a
prayer that couldn’t be answered?
Yeah, I don’t think so either.
Grace,
Randy
