I’ve been arguing with myself lately about Christian unity. Is it real? I’m not sure it is, and I don’t think my church really believes in unity either. Oh, we both say we do, but our language and our actions show something else.
This is how we read the Bible: There are Jews and Greeks, slaves and free people, males and females, but you can all be one in Christ Jesus if you diminish your differences, focus on your own personal growth, and try to get along.*
We hope that being in the same building at the same time means we are “in one accord.” After all, the least we can do is to show up for an hour each week. Same place, same time, doing the same thing = unity, right?
But in that place and at that time, what are we all doing? We don’t talk. We don’t share experiences, thoughts, doubts, hopes, etc. Come, face the front, sit, stand, sing, sit again, listen, leave. Repeat weakly. Who are these people anyway? We begin to feel that this crowd is the loneliest possible place to be.
I go hoping that I can get something out of it, something to meet my spiritual needs. Not sure what these other people are hoping for. Maybe I should just worry about myself and what I can get out of it. At least I can do that. It will all be over in an hour and then I can go.
OK, the sermon is about to start. Let’s see if the Spirit has a message for me. Something to help me in my own personal life. I know that’s the goal here. It’s about what I can understand and apply so that I can change and improve as an individual. Maybe get some wisdom for my family dynamics or friendships too. As long as it relates to me and mine.
What can I order from the menu? I think I’d like … hmm… how about some chicken soup for my soul. And for the main dish … Oh, here’s a dish that encourages me. And this dessert will make me feel satisfied. What about you? What did you get from the menu? Oh, maybe I’ll try some of that next time. See you next week.
This is why we have a personal savior. Personalized messages. One for me, and one for you. You do you, and I’ll do me. That’s how the Holy Spirit works.
I know it shouldn’t go beyond that. I shouldn’t expect more. I’m not even sure how I would describe a church that goes beyond that. Connected? Joined together? Prophetic? Sounds like a cult.
Still, does church have to be this privatized? Even Americans can get a little sick of all the individualism sometimes.
Even our songs are full of “I and me” instead of “us and we.” Surely the pronouns in the songs are not that hard to change, but by default, we prefer the intimacy and safety of addressing our personal private Jesus. We focus on being the object of God’s love, as if that’s how we find significance.
Lyrics:
“Who am I are we that the highest King would welcome me us?
I was We were lost but He brought me us in, oh, His love for me us
Oh, His love for me us.”
But generation after generation we pass this aberrant faith down to our children so that they can know how special they are. Hey, let’s change our favorite verse: Instead of “For God so loved the world,” let’s say, “For God so loved Kevin.” Such a small change to make it more meaningful. It’s not like we are changing sacred scripture, like feminists changing male pronouns to neutral ones. We’re adapting scriptures to make it about Kevin. After all, what is sacred is sacred, and little Kevin is sacred.
So, all the Kevins come together for an hour a week because that’s what Kevins do. But what is Kevin’s last name? His family name? Does he have a family?
We talk about the church as family, or we used to. Now, church family seems like a claim that doesn’t match the reality. It’s more like something to aspire to, a bit of hyperbole.
We feel that what unity we do have is fragile, because it’s mostly theoretical. There’s no evidence that it’s real. We are all so different. We go to church with people we would never want to hang out with. And those we follow on Facebook are closer to us than the people we sing with.
Even when some come together beyond the sacred hour, we segregate. We segregate our Sunday school classes and cell groups by interest, age, and life stage. That kind of thing is what builds unity right? Or, maybe our separate-but-equal fellowship strategies are a recognition that we are, after all, a collection of individuals trying to connect over the barest of commonalities.
A lot of church and denomination leaders think we have to dream up ways to become more unified. That’s why we think of church as a building we meeting in each week. We need to be in the same big room. And we need to make sure we are not only in the same room, but on the same page. Literally, the same page. Maybe that’s why we love our doctrinal and mission statements. A list of our beliefs represents the sum total of our faith.
So, we strive for unity, even as we suspect it’s just on paper. Or, maybe it means we all sit facing the same direction.
But you know the main way I know we don’t actually believe we are one in Christ, or that we really have the mind of Christ, or that we are one body. It’s because we know that people will leave our church over which doctrinal code words are used. Or, if a woman gave the benediction, people would freak. So, for certain we can’t dare talk about the big issues that divide society. We can’t even deal well with small issues sometimes. If we can’t deal with things that don’t matter; how would we ever handle talking about the way single moms are unsupported, or why no people of color ever stay for long, or why we only have men as elders? This whole church thing is hanging by a thread, people. And we don’t need anyone running around with scissors!
No, I don’t think we believe that what binds us together is stronger than our differences. We are so convinced that the customer is king, that we dare not ask too much from them. Make people uncomfortable, and poof! Before you know it, you are down to 2 services. Our unity is a fragile thing, an eggshell, nothing like a house built on a rock.
And we receive according to our faith.
The View From Here 