The elusive unity in the church, and why it’s so painful to hope for it

by guest contributor Brian F. Marks

For as long as I can remember, one of the recurring messages I’ve heard within evangelical Christian circles is the need for ecumenical cooperation, for unity in the Body of Christ.

You see, believers in Jesus disagree on some substantive theological issues but that’s OK, certain leaders assure us over the years. We need to agree on the “essentials” of the faith, have liberty on the secondary doctrinal matters, and in all things display charity. We just need to focus on what unites us and then all will be well, and then, we hope we’ll see a move of the Holy Spirit, God’s Kingdom will advance, and we’ll see many come to know Jesus personally as their Savior and Lord.

Broadly speaking, that’s actually not such bad thinking, in my view. We should indeed focus on what unites rather than what divides. And yes, where there is ecumenical cooperation for the gospel, much good can and does happen. I’ve seen it. I understand why those leaders say that. All the small-o orthodox denominations may have different theological emphases but all in all, it’s not such a terrible thing. In a world full of nations and cultures as diverse as ours, this is to be expected, no? And shoot, even some understandable differences emerged in the book of Acts among the earliest believers. No harm, no foul, right? This is part of the journey of following Jesus and maybe we shouldn’t sweat it. The Lord will work it all out. And at the end of the day, we have to put our trust in Him, a Person, not a sophisticated and intellectually robust and layered theological system or religious institution. I get it. Nobody, not even the brightest human mind, has ever had this thing called the Christian faith completely figured out intellectually (though some think they do, **ahem**, Reformed Christians and radtrad Catholics) and no one ever will this side of eternity.

And yet…I am really tired of the dynamics that precipitate leaders having to say all of this in the first place. They make a big doggone deal about focusing on the unifying essentials precisely because the disunity and discord is so pervasive in the West. And it makes me wonder if something much larger, much more nefarious, and deeply damaging to the human soul isn’t at work in the midst of it. It is here where some Roman Catholics I’ve met tend to huff and puff here about the “30,000 Protestant denominations” as an indictment against Protestantism itself. I usually tune out that kind of ribbing from my friends across the Tiber River, and wherever they get that random 30,000 figure I don’t know. But there is a small part of me that kind of appreciates the material point because it frustrates me. There should NOT be so many splits and Christian groups. (And I’ll just add that the Catholics can’t credibly claim they have their stuff all together. Have ya seen the current pope’s antics and the people creating theological schisms within it? Those German bishops? That sickly manipulative and pervy snake Father James Martin? BAD news. The Catholics may be united on paper and under one auspice but they are far from spiritually together where it counts.) I’ve seen similar arrogance from the Eastern Orthodox too. They, too, have their problems.

This much-desired Christian “unity” seems, at least to me, so painfully elusive. And I have this nagging feeling in my soul that it just shouldn’t be like this! It’s not God’s desire for his people. It can’t be.

Before I elaborate more on that, I want to pause here and note that by far the most memorable, spiritually unified moments for me as a Christian have been in the presence of God where the Holy Spirit manifests powerfully. It often happens during worship. One moment that stands out was at a men’s retreat I attended in 2014. There we were, approximately 40 of us young guys – mostly in our 20s, 30s, and 40s – were gathered at a Christian camp retreat house in the mountains just outside of Santa Barbara, California. We were singing “From the Inside Out” by Hillsong and other anthems and beloved contemporary songs that stirred my soul. And these men could SING! There we were, a bunch of earnest men sold out for Jesus, with many hands raised in the air, belting it out with all our hearts.

It was transporting, a foretaste of Heaven.

As our voices resounded, I remember my heart swelling in that moment, thinking it might burst. The environment was so humble. We weren’t inside a grand Gothic cathedral with stained glass and architecture that drew you upward. Even so, I was in awe, surrounded by what felt like an army of angels, completely in the zone before the throne of God, exalting Jesus, enraptured by the joy of the Lord. Man, it was incomprehensibly powerful. Even thinking about that experience strengthens my core, gives me the Holy Spirit cold chills, brings a tear to my eye, and puts a huge, ear-to-ear smile on my face. I’m not exaggerating here. I’ll never forget it; it marked me.

More recently, I traveled to DC to be a part of the One Million Women “Don’t Mess With Our Kids” rally on the Mall on Oct 12. It was so stirring to be a part of a throng of nearly 400,000 people crying out to God, interceding for Him to intervene in our nation on so many fronts. People from all the states prayed and fasted for 12 hours straight. Millions more streamed it online. It was such earnest, specific, fervently repentant prayer. People were so committed and I left that day knowing in my heart of hearts that the heavens had shifted.

It’s in those extraordinary moments that I know that it’s exactly THAT which is what we were made for. THAT’S THE UNITY RIGHT THERE that I so crave! There have been other moments like that serve to anchor me in the Rock of Ages. They seem to come about at just the right time too. It’s uncanny how God shows up like that, right on time but never early, huh?

I know it’s not reasonable to expect these kinds of spiritual highs to happen all the time. They seem to punctuate life at just the right time, but I must ask, but why does the American (and maybe other nations) church experience so precious little of it? Am I missing something here? I promise I’m not chasing a mere dopamine hit to the brain.

I’ve griped in previous essays about what I call the “perfect theology” idol.

Many evangelicals, to their great credit, possess a noble desire to resist false teaching and guard against theological error, but they wind up becoming obsessed with having all their doctrine so right and tight. The pursuit of robust orthodoxy becomes an end in itself and it’s wrong.

And again, I’ll restate that it’s always necessary to resist false teaching in every age. There’s no escaping that. It was true in the ancient world when the Corinthians were rightly rebuked by Paul for allowing sexual immorality and abusing the Lord’s Supper as were the Galatians who were acting foolishly and were, as the Apostle put it, “bewitched.” Or consider how God had strong words for the churches in Revelation. Some of those churches were actually doing considerable good and God lauded them for it, and yet he had to correct them elsewhere. For example, the Church in Pergamum impressively held fast to the name of Jesus and didn’t deny faith in him even amid great persecution, and despite being surrounded by ruthless paganism. But there was compromise too, as some held to the false teaching of Balaam and the Nicolaitans, both of which the Lord abhorred.

And it’s a real and present challenge today. A biblical scholar I immensely respect recently opined that the church is currently in a life-and-death struggle over sexuality and gender issues. This is a new Gnosticism breaking the Body of Christ but unlike the previous versions of Gnosticism, they occurred in eras when the church had many more articulate defenders of the truth than we do now, he maintains. It’s sobering indeed and I can’t say I disagree with him.

So maybe me complaining over the lack of unity in the Body is a bit pointless because a certain amount of disunity will always be present because we still live in a fallen world even on the resurrection side of the cross. The human condition is, in this regard, inescapable.

And yet for some reason I just have to believe that there has to be more. That the status quo is deeply unacceptable. Something is…way off. It’s just not OK to be this bitterly divided. I have an atheist friend who is a sometimes-disingenuous, sometimes-honest critic of Christians and the Christian faith. One of his more pointed criticisms is that a real God would’ve been clearer. The lack of theological clarity and unity among us, as we fight incessantly about what our holy documents say and how they are to be applied, undercuts his ability to believe that the God we proclaim is real.

“But God is not the author of confusion, that’s of man,” Christians will say to him.

“Well, you Christians seem awfully confused about what He said, so get it together and then maybe we can talk,” my atheist friend retorts, usually to their silence.

I gotta admit I sort of see his point on that count. If we were unified, would he trust in Jesus for his salvation? I wonder. He just might.

It’s painful to see Christians fighting each other, and it seems to be crescendoing of late. Christian Twitter makes it unquestionably worse. It’s rather mean and nasty over there.

And it all makes me reflect again on the prayer Jesus prayed in John 17, that those who would follow Him would be one, as He and the Father are one. Unless I’m reading it wrong (Holy Spirit, please illuminate my mind and give me insight if I am!), it blows my mind to consider that that’s a prayer that Jesus prayed that, to at least some degree remains…unanswered.

I’ll stop meandering now and conclude here to say that when I think of the moments when heaven and earth meet, where God breaks into history (both our individual stories and more broadly in the culture), and where He reveals himself to those who are earnestly seeking him, it’s important to savor it. Because those moments seem fleeting. Maybe Jesus himself felt the pain I’m feeling when he prayed for what he did. He certainly felt the pain when he took our sin of sowing discord upon himself on the cross.

And so here’s hoping, longing, and pressing into the heart of God for more of those moments where the Church seems to catch his presence long enough to know what’s possible when we truly surrender to the Lord.

This much I know, the constant contentiousness I detect so often in so many segments of the Body is not of Him. Something’s gotta give.

And maybe, just maybe, the key to changing this equation is to throw up our hands, praise Him again and again, and offer Him our broken hallelujahs and gratitude. Lest I forget, He inhabits the praises of his people and the contentious church could certainly use some holy inhabitation right about now.