Unity

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