What Holds Us Together
Several years ago, former pastor Rob Bell participated in a radio show debate over a controversial topic in the Church. Theologically liberal Bell was paired against a conservative-leaning opponent.
The video recording of the debate shows two men growing increasingly exasperated, repeating their viewpoints to no avail. Tension between the sides is palpable as neither is budging, and eventually they reach a clear impasse.
At this point, the debate feels done but unresolved. The segment looks like it's going to conclude in a state of loathing, but the air lightens at the end with a grounding reminder from Bell.
He says something to this effect:
This man is my brother. If we were to come to the Lord's table, we would break the same bread and drink the same wine that represents the same body of Christ.
There has to be something that unites us in our faith that is bigger than this one single issue we disagree on.
We agree on so many other things about God, the Bible, and the Resurrection story. Is this one thing we can't agree on going to be the things that breaks us, or are we going to let Christ hold us together?
Let us argue, let us debate, let us grow tired of each other, let us agree on nothing more than that we disagree. Then, let me call you my brother. Let me call you my sister.
When someone who claims to share the same faith as us believes things we think are heinous, the last thing we want to do is consider them family. The temptation instead is to dismiss their faith by either rejecting or ignoring them.
To reject is to call the person we disagree with an idiot rather than our brother, whether out loud or in thought.
To ignore is to call the person we disagree with our sister but never ask questions we'd rather not hear the answer to, for fear we'll find out she's an idiot.
If we reject, we put ourselves in the judgment seat Jesus himself sits on, which is in fact not a comfortable one (Matt 20: 20-28).
If we ignore, any relationship we have with other Christians will likely never graduate past surface-level. It will leave us skirting around topics we would rather not hear their opinion on in case it is wrong.
Abortion, hell, sexuality, and politics become relational deal breakers or conversations to run from.
It is not that these matters are not important to talk about; they are. But when being right is more important than love, they turn into wedges that divide. The subject at hand can quickly become more important than the person who holds the opinion we disagree with.
To put it vividly, a stance on abortion can become more important than respecting the person who holds that stance.
A theology of hell can become more important than rescuing the person from whatever hell does or will look like.
A view of sexuality can become more important than honoring the person who holds that view.
A vote for a political candidate can become a more important identity statement than the voter's identity as God's beloved.
It is not the topics themselves that cause division—though it is tempting to believe that—but the over-importance we place on getting them right.
Jesus did not say people would be able to identify his disciples by their beliefs, but by how they loved each other (John 13:35). If they truly believed what he said, they would love one another. (John 15: 12-17)
Without love, my faith is as hollow and powerless as any empty philosophy. If I know everything but have no love, I have nothing (1 Cor. 13: 2).
My beliefs mean little if they are more important than the central commands of God's law: that loving God and loving our neighbor are the weightiest commands of all (Matt 22: 37-40). It is a greater tragedy to miss out on love than to miss out on correctness.
When struggling with disagreement, it helps to remember that living in Christ's family comes with a certain degree of tension.
Tension is present in any family. It is the result of multiple complex creatures trying to come together and operate as one unit. The greater the differences, the greater the complexity, and the greater the potential for tension.
Fortunately, a family's health is not indicated by a total absence of tension but by the way it is transformed.
Does it simmer with no outlet? Eventually leaking out in passive aggression.
Does it explode with nothing to soften the blow? Inflicting wounds on anyone standing too close.
Or is it handled with respect that comes from humility? Creating a reverence for the way Christ is able to hold such complexity together in one body.
This image of Jesus holding his diverse church together in one family is called unity.
Not sameness; unity is not sameness. The church body is not made up of clones in the same way the human body is not made up of 200 toes or 200 noses.
Unity is the joining of hands of people who wouldn't come near each other if it weren't for a God who is bigger than their differences. But they do because he is.
In The Holy Longing, Ronald Rolheiser provides a helpful allegory to illustrate how this works.
A woman, Betzy, is likable not due to mere charisma, but because she is a deeply good person. Her kind heart, compassionate eyes, and generous life naturally draw all kinds of people in, so she ends up with a sizable and diverse set of friends.
One night, she throws a giant party for all her friends. People of all ages, ideologies, races, genders, social classes, interests, backgrounds, political views, and religions show up.
Some people get along. Others barely tolerate each other. If they were to have met outside of Betzy's party, they wouldn't. But for this one night, they deal with the tension.
Why? Because Betzy is there and, "they respect who she is and what she stands for, [so] everyone, for that night at least, is polite to one another and is enough engulfed in a certain spirit of tolerance, respect, decency, and charity to stretch them beyond how they would normally feel, think, and act."
This is the Church. This is God's Kingdom. Christ is Betzy. Christians are Betzy's friends.
Though many of us would not ordinarily get along with each other, we can choose to put that aside because someone more important than our beliefs is present (Matt 18: 20).
God is not stingy about who he invites into his family (Matt 22: 1-10). Whether conservative or liberal or on a different ideological spectrum entirely, we all have a seat at his table. We just have to be okay sitting next to our fellow unruly siblings who call him father too.