As a refugee who fled Iraq in 1982 because of war and persecution, I love the United States. My adopted country gave me a new start, freedom I never had enjoyed before and a bright future for my family.

But as a Christian, I’m saddened by the hateful rhetoric that often greets newcomers today. So little of it is true. And it shows an utter disregard for the biblical imperative to welcome the strangers in our midst.

My fellow conservatives have branded immigrants illegally crossing our southern border as murderers, rapists and drug dealers. Former President Donald Trump repeatedly has said illegal immigrants are “poisoning the blood of our country” and recently sparked hostility toward Haitian immigrants—most of them in this country legally—in Springfield, Ohio.

Secure borders

Let me be perfectly clear: America should be able to protect its borders, limiting immigration to those who enter legally. That’s because preserving the blessings of liberty means taking security measures before allowing people into the country.

Today, even though I’m a citizen of this great country, I’m singled out when it comes to travel. I often go through extra screening, I’m asked extra questions, and I receive much more scrutiny than white Americans any time I re-enter the United States.

Why? Because there are people who look like me, talk like me and have names similar to mine who want to harm this nation. So, I welcome any additional screening, because it means our government is doing its job of keeping our people safe.

Truth about immigrants

Yet, research debunks the myths about a widespread “invasion” of criminals and terrorists.

A recent study of census data from 1870 to 2020 showed immigrants are less likely to be jailed for committing crimes than people born in the United States. In fact, overall crime rates have fallen while immigration has increased.

The New York Times put the trend in perspective: “There are more than 45 million immigrants in the U.S., and invariably some of them—just like people of any other group—will do bad things. Similarly, thousands of native-born Americans commit violent crimes in any given week.”

But stories of violent crimes committed by immigrants receive extra attention. So do stories of immigrants smuggling drugs across the southern border, even though 89 percent of the people convicted for drug trafficking in fentanyl in 2022 were U.S. citizens.

Stories like these proliferate because they prey on our most basic fears, like the tendency to suspect refugees from the Muslim world are terrorists.

“And yet statistics show that refugees are the least likely section of a population to get involved in violence—they are refugees because they fled violence and persecution,” the UN Refugee Agency reports.

In fact, the vast majority of newcomers to this country are merely trying to survive. They dream of living productive lives, but it’s hard to be accepted in a strange land. The food is different, the laws are unfamiliar, jobs are tough to find, and English is difficult to learn.

The Bible on immigrants

The Bible couldn’t be clearer about how Christians should respond.

In Leviticus 19:34, God tells the people of Israel: “You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”

Instead of looking at newcomers as a threat, Christians should look at them as their neighbors.

If you’re afraid of terrorism and crime, they’re your neighbors. Whether you plan to vote Republican or Democratic, they’re your neighbors. If you’ve never in your life spoken to someone from another country, they’re your neighbors.

And what does the Bible say you’re to do to your neighbors? Love them and tell them about Jesus.

Dr. Jalil Dawood, who fled to America from Iraq as a refugee and persecuted Christian, has been a U.S. citizen since 1988. He is the founder of World Refugee Care, pastor of the Arabic Church of Dallas and author of The Refugee: A Story of God’s Grace and Hope on One Man’s Road to Refuge. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

For more than 200 years, Baptists in America and Southern Baptists in particular proudly have repeated the stories of our fight for religious freedom.

Baptists in Colonial America started as a persecuted minority. We were outsiders who experienced oppression at the hands of powerful Christian rulers.

When Baptists repeated this story, we aligned ourselves with those who are marginalized, powerless and oppressed. Like the people of Israel, we are reminded we once were persecuted, and God redeemed us.

We are to remember God’s mercy and not abuse our influence. In our own story, we are bound to the vulnerable, the marginalized and the oppressed.

Is your congregation still telling this Baptist story?

Baptist story in New England

Do you know about a Baptist named Obadiah Holmes, who was publicly whipped for worshipping with his Baptist community instead of the Puritan church? You can read his story in Baptist Piety: The Last Will and Testimony of Obadiah Holmes.

Do you know about Roger Williams, who was thrown out of the Massachusetts Bay Colony for challenging the authority of the Christian rulers? Williams insisted faith had to be free in order to be genuine. He scandalized his Puritan neighbors by insisting when a government forced faith on its people it was committing spiritual rape.

Williams was thrown out into the wilderness and survived through the hospitality of the Narragansett Indians. He later secured a charter for Rhode Island rooted in the principle of religious liberty and established the first Baptist church in America.

You can read Williams’ views in The Bloudy Tenent of Persecution or read his full biography in The Challenges of Roger Williams by James P. Byrd.

Do you tell the stories of Thomas Gold, a wealthy wagon maker in Boston who refused to have his infant daughter baptized? When he asked his Puritan ministers to let him pray about the topic and think about it more, they refused.

Gold was thrown into prison over and over again by the Christian leaders of Boston. He insisted he should be free to exercise his faith without interference from the government. After years of harassment, he finally was given his freedom. He helped establish the first Baptist church in Boston.

Gold’s story is one of many in the excellent two-volume history New England Dissent, 1630-1833: The Baptists and the Separation of Church and State by William McLoughlin. You also could look at McLoughlin’s Soul Liberty: The Baptists’ Struggle in New England, 1630-1833.

Baptist story in Virginia

Did you know by the time of the American Revolution more than 50 percent of the Baptist preachers in Virginia had been imprisoned by their Christian colonial government for preaching the gospel without proper authorization?

The Anglican rulers in Virginia did not approve of Baptists. So, they imprisoned them, harassed them and imposed religious taxes on them.

Marriages performed by Baptist ministers in Baptist churches were not considered legal or valid. Children of Baptist marriages were considered illegitimate, and they were not allowed to inherit family property.

Baptismal services at the riverside often were disrupted by men on horseback. Some ministers were held under the water to insult and terrorize them.

In one case, a hornet’s nest was tossed into a Baptist service, and the doors were barred, trapping men, women and children inside.

As you can imagine, these Colonial Baptists were deeply suspicious of Christian governments and despised the religious conformity forced upon them. You can read more about Virginia Baptists in Wellspring of Liberty by John A. Ragosta.

Baptist influence on freedom

Baptist ministers like John Leland and Isaac Backus fought for the right to worship freely and openly.

Baptists petitioned Thomas Jefferson to demand religious freedom, not just for themselves, but for all people. Jefferson took up the Baptist cause and enshrined the principle of religious liberty into the Constitution of the Commonwealth of Virginia.

When the newly formed U.S. Constitution failed to offer protections for religious liberty, Baptists again raised the alarm. They pledged their political support for James Madison in return for a promise of a Bill of Rights. Madison delivered.

Americans can thank the Baptists, more than any other group, for their unwavering commitment to the principle of separation of church and state.

Isaac Backus narrated the Baptist struggle for religious liberty in the first history of the Baptists in America in 1844.

Historians outside the Baptist family also gave the Baptists credit for our commitment to religious liberty.

In 1898, Leonard Woolsey Bacon wrote: “The active labor in this cause was mainly done by the Baptists. It is to their consistency and constancy in the warfare against the privileges of the powerful ‘standing order’ of New England, and the moribund establishments of the South, that we are chiefly indebted for the final triumph in this country of that principle of the separation of Church and State which is one of the largest contributions of the New World to civilization and to the church universal” (A History of American Christianity).

As long as Baptists keep telling this story of religious liberty, we will remember Baptists experienced oppression and violence at the hands of a Christian state. We will remain suspicious of those who tell us good things will happen when Christians control the government. Baptists know better.

Our Baptist ancestors were absolutely convinced the church of Jesus Christ did not need the support of the state to carry out its mission. Early Baptists were fully aware when the church attempts to build its power using the authority of the state, it is building a house on sinking sand.

We told our Baptist story for generations because it is powerful. We told our children this story because it is true. What story is your church telling?

Carol Crawford Holcomb is a professor of church history and Baptist studies in University of Mary Hardin-Baylor’s College of Christian Studies. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author and millions of Baptists.

El Mes de la Herencia Hispana, que se celebra del 15 de septiembre al 15 de octubre, nos invita a reflexionar sobre el profundo legado cultural y las importantes contribuciones de los hispanoamericanos a nuestra nación.

Para los bautistas hispanos de Texas, este período tiene un significado espiritual especial, ya que honramos a las personas devotas que han dado forma a nuestras iglesias, familias y comunidades a través de su firme compromiso con el evangelio.

Reflexionar sobre este mes me recuerda el rico legado que ha influido en mi propia vida, un legado profundamente arraigado tanto en mi historia familiar como en los notables pastores bautistas cuyo impacto continúa moldeando mi carácter.

Familia

Mi viaje personal comienza con la fe de mi bisabuelo, Juan Ramos Castillo, quien respondió al llamado de Dios al ministerio en 1888. En 1904, fue designado por la Junta de Misiones Internas de Nueva York para servir como pastor de la Primera Iglesia Bautista de Monterrey, Nuevo León.

Este momento crucial no solo marcó un paso significativo para nuestra familia, sino que también jugó un papel crucial en la expansión del evangelio en el norte de México. Su liderazgo sentó las bases para las futuras generaciones de líderes bautistas, incluyendo a mi tío abuelo, Librado Ramos Lozano, quien trascendió fronteras para servir como vicepresidente de la Alianza Bautista Mundial durante cinco años.

El nombre Ramos llegó a simbolizar la fe, la dedicación y un compromiso decidido con el cumplimiento de la Gran Comisión.

La figura más influyente en mi vida espiritual ha sido mi padre, Homero Job Ramos. Con 55 años de experiencia en el ministerio de tiempo completo tanto en México como en Texas, el legado de mi padre se caracteriza por una profunda enseñanza espiritual y cuidado pastoral.

Desde Houston hasta Elsa, desde Brownsville hasta McAllen, puso su corazón en pastorear congregaciones, enseñándoles a amar a su prójimo como a sí mismos.

Su influencia se extendió más allá de la iglesia local a través de su papel como presidente de la Asociación Bautista Latino Americana, conectando a las iglesias hispanas con otros grupos étnicos en el cumplimiento de la Gran Comisión.

Su vida sirvió como testimonio del llamado de Jesús a amar y servir a los demás, y a través de su ejemplo, he aprendido a encarnar la Gran Comisión y el Gran Mandamiento con humildad y gracia.

Modelos

Al reflexionar sobre la herencia de mi familia, también estoy profundamente agradecido por los pastores bautistas que han desempeñado un papel fundamental en la formación de mi carácter y ministerio.

Líderes como Rudy Sánchez, Carlos Paredes, Isaac Torres, Omar Pachecano, Eliseo Aldape, Albert Reyes, Adlin Cotto, Daniel Sánchez y Rudy Hernández han dejado una marca indeleble en mi vida.

Ellos ejemplifican el corazón del ministerio bautista hispano en Texas: un compromiso inquebrantable con el evangelio, un profundo amor por sus congregaciones y una pasión por compartir el amor de Jesús con todas las personas que conocen.

Rudy Sánchez, con su dedicación al discipulado, me enseñó la importancia de ser mentor de otros en la fe. Su enfoque de ministerio relacional, invirtiendo en quienes lo rodeaban, demostró cómo equipar a la próxima generación de líderes.

Carlos Paredes e Isaac Torres, con su ferviente pasión por la evangelización, me mostraron cómo alcanzar a los perdidos con urgencia y compasión.

Pastores como Omar Pachecano y Eliseo Aldape me enseñaron el valor de la perseverancia en el ministerio, manteniéndome firme en la fe durante tiempos de prueba e incertidumbre.

Albert Reyes y Adlin Cotto, fieles siervos del Señor, encarnaron la humildad y la alegría de servir a los demás, mientras que la profundidad teológica de Daniel Sánchez me recordó la importancia de fundamentar nuestro ministerio en la sana doctrina.

La inquebrantable dedicación de Rudy Hernández a la comunidad bautista hispana ha sido una fuente de inspiración.

Cada uno de estos líderes me ha mostrado, a su manera, lo que significa ser un fiel siervo de Dios.

Legado

Como bautistas hispanos en Texas, somos parte de una narrativa más grande: una historia de fe, perseverancia y compromiso con la Gran Comisión. El legado de los bautistas hispanos es de sacrificio y resiliencia, pero lo más importante es que es un legado de amor por Cristo y por nuestro prójimo.

La historia de mi familia, que comienza con mi bisabuelo y continúa a través de las generaciones, ejemplifica cómo Dios ha trabajado a través de los bautistas hispanos para hacer avanzar su reino.

El Mes de la Herencia Hispana no es solo un momento para celebrar nuestra identidad cultural, sino también un momento para dar gracias a Dios por su fidelidad a través de las generaciones.

El Salmo 90:1 nos recuerda: “Señor, tú has sido nuestro refugio de generación en generación”. Este versículo captura la esencia del ministerio bautista hispano en Texas: Dios ha sido nuestro refugio, fortaleza y guía mientras hemos buscado seguirlo en fidelidad y obediencia.

En el corazón del Mes de la Herencia Hispana se encuentra una celebración de la bondad y la misericordia de Dios. No se trata solo de una etnia, sino del corazón de las personas dispuestas a invertir en las vidas de los demás, compartiendo el amor de Jesús y haciendo una diferencia en el mundo para Cristo.

Hoy, honramos a los hombres y mujeres hispanos que han impactado profundamente el ministerio bautista de Texas, y le damos la gloria a Dios por su trabajo continuo en medio nuestro.

Al celebrar el Mes de la Herencia Hispana, reflexionemos, no solo sobre el legado que nos dejó, sino también miremos hacia adelante con anticipación a lo que Dios continuará haciendo a través de los hombres y mujeres fieles en nuestras comunidades.

A Dios sea la gloria por su labor entre los bautistas hispanos de Texas, tanto ahora como en las generaciones venideras.

Sergio A. Ramos es director de la Iniciativa GC2 de los Bautistas de Texas.

Hispanic Heritage Month, observed from Sept. 15 to Oct. 15, invites us to reflect on the profound cultural legacy and the significant contributions of Hispanic Americans to our nation.

For Hispanic Baptists in Texas, this period holds special spiritual significance as we honor the devoted individuals who have shaped our churches, families and communities through their steadfast commitment to the gospel.

Reflecting on this month reminds me of the rich legacy that has influenced my own life—a legacy deeply rooted in both my family history and the remarkable Baptist pastors whose impact continues to mold my character.

Family

My personal journey begins with the faith of my great-grandfather, Juan Ramos Castillo, who heeded God’s call to ministry in 1888. By 1904, he was appointed by the Board of Internal Missions in New York to serve as the pastor of First Baptist Church of Monterrey, Nuevo León.

This pivotal moment not only marked a significant step for our family, but also played a crucial role in the expansion of the gospel in northern Mexico. His leadership laid a foundation for future generations of Baptist leaders, including my great-uncle, Librado Ramos Lozano, who transcended borders to serve as vice president of the Baptist World Alliance for five years.

The Ramos name came to symbolize faith, dedication and a resolute commitment to fulfilling the Great Commission.

The most influential figure in my spiritual life has been my father, Homero Job Ramos. With 55 years of full-time ministry experience in both Mexico and Texas, my father’s legacy is characterized by profound spiritual teaching and pastoral care.

From Houston to Elsa, Brownsville to McAllen, he poured his heart into pastoring congregations, teaching them to love their neighbors as themselves.

His influence extended beyond the local church through his role as president of the Asociación Bautista Latino Americana, bridging Hispanic churches with other ethnic groups in fulfilling the Great Commission.

His life served as a testament to Jesus’s call to love and serve others, and through his example, I have learned to embody the Great Commission and the Great Commandment with humility and grace.

Models

Reflecting on my family’s heritage, I also am profoundly grateful for the Baptist pastors who have played a pivotal role in shaping my character and ministry.

Leaders like Rudy Sanchez, Carlos Paredes, Isaac Torres, Omar Pachecano, Eliseo Aldape, Albert Reyes, Adlin Cotto, Daniel Sanchez and Rudy Hernandez have left an indelible mark on my life.

They exemplify the heart of Hispanic Baptist ministry in Texas—an unwavering commitment to the gospel, a deep love for their congregations, and a passion for sharing the love of Jesus with everyone they encounter.

Rudy Sanchez, with his dedication to discipleship, taught me the importance of mentoring others in the faith. His relational ministry approach, investing in those around him, demonstrated how to equip the next generation of leaders.

Carlos Paredes and Isaac Torres, with their fervent passion for evangelism, showed me how to reach the lost with urgency and compassion.

Pastors like Omar Pachecano and Eliseo Aldape taught me the value of perseverance in ministry, standing firm in faith during times of trial and uncertainty.

Albert Reyes and Adlin Cotto, faithful servants of the Lord, embodied humility and joy in serving others, while Daniel Sanchez’s theological depth reminded me of the importance of grounding our ministry in sound doctrine.

Rudy Hernandez’s unwavering dedication to the Hispanic Baptist community has been a source of inspiration.

Each of these leaders has, in their own way, shown me what it means to be a faithful servant of God.

Legacy

As Hispanic Baptists in Texas, we are part of a larger narrative—a story of faith, perseverance and commitment to the Great Commission. The legacy of Hispanic Baptists is one of sacrifice and resilience, but most importantly, it is a legacy of love for Christ and for our neighbors.

My family’s story, beginning with my great-grandfather and continuing through the generations, exemplifies how God has worked through Hispanic Baptists to advance his kingdom.

Hispanic Heritage Month is not only a time to celebrate our cultural identity, but also a moment to give thanks to God for his faithfulness across generations.

Psalm 90:1 reminds us: “Lord, you have been our refuge from generation to generation.” This verse captures the essence of Hispanic Baptist ministry in Texas—God has been our refuge, strength and guide as we have sought to follow him in faithfulness and obedience.

At the heart of Hispanic Heritage Month is a celebration of God’s goodness and mercy. It’s not just about one ethnicity, but it’s about the heart of individuals willing to invest in others’ lives, sharing the love of Jesus and making a difference in the world for Christ.

Today, we honor the Hispanic men and women who have impacted profoundly Texas Baptist ministry, and we give God the glory for his ongoing work in our midst.

As we celebrate Hispanic Heritage Month, let us reflect, not only on the legacy left for us, but also look forward with anticipation to what God will continue to do through the faithful men and women in our communities.

To God be the glory for his work among Hispanic Baptists in Texas, both now and in the generations to come.

Sergio A. Ramos is director of the GC2 Initiative of Texas Baptists.

When we were children, we thought as children about heaven.

I remember cringing at the thought of death and thinking it was the cruelest thing ever to be invented. To be without my parents and grandparents would be like ceasing to exist. Who would want to go on with life?

I never was able to tell my parents the fullness of my fear, but they had an idea.

Mom said: “Death won’t come for such a long time. There’s no point in thinking about it now.” And: “When death comes, you will be ready for it.”

I was astute enough to know no one knows for sure when death will come, and surely, some folks were not ready but were cruelly caught off guard. She was trying to calm me down.

Fast forward to the day my mother died in 2000. Without thinking, I said to the chaplain at her bedside as she lay lifeless, “We were ready!”

Mom lived in my heart much more than she ever knew.

Mama went to Baylor, and she had so many wise words from her professors that I was pretty sure Baylor and Waco were “over in the Glory Land” somehow. We lived by the quotations of her Bible teachers.

Growing fonder of heaven

As I have become a senior adult, heaven draws me toward itself. What an enormous place to hold all who have ever come to Christ and will come in the future. Every day, one or two of my friends enter heaven’s gates. Seems each day, we launch a friend to the “land fairer than day” and look upward to see if we may be called next.

My family does not like for me to talk about death and transition. But if they love me, they will hear what is on my mind and try to understand.

When a person has glimpsed heaven, this world is just too dull by comparison to love.

My grandmother used to say: “I’ve been everywhere and done everything I wanted to do.”

She thought life was linear, a line of experiences we endured and mastered to fulfill God’s plan for our lives.

As the body weakens and gives out, so does the desire to do the same things over and over again.

At the end of life, we become more spiritual than physical, so we can loosen the ties that bind us to earth and let go.

Letting go

Letting go must be perfect freedom. Our bodies profoundly limit us.

It is amazing to think the cessation of one heartbeat or blood pulsation or breath could end all we are in the physical world.

We know God has made us for more. He set eternity in our hearts—and also in our bodies, I would say. Even our dreams and desires are fulfilled by heaven. We want oneness and wholeness with God, our family, our church, the world.

When my uncle died, we sang “Beulah Land” under the tall pine trees of Mississippi. We stood on the red clay covered in pine needles on a hot, autumn day.

I felt a little weak and faint with emotion, then remembered the city foursquare, the gems and jewels, the Lamb and light, the fountain of living water, the streets of gold, the thrones and angels, the churning energy of pervasive praise.

Can we see heaven from Mississippi? Can we see heaven through tears? Can our family celebrate even in mortal form, headed ourselves to heaven and burial, perhaps in the same cemetery as our loved ones?

The God who made us made heaven. He made all the parts of life and eternity to fit together. His Spirit is a pledge that fills us with hope in the promise of heaven.

Without the Spirit, I could never let go of those I love. But in the Spirit, I can let them go and find the forever love so much greater than mine.

Ruth Cook is an educator assistant for an English-as-a-Second-Language class and is a longtime Texas Baptist. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

In my last article, I discussed challenges all Christians face when they try to live in unity. These challenges undermine the “solidarity” necessary for a collection of individuals or congregations to become a cohesive whole.

In this article, we will examine threats to Christian unity in our context. These threats undermine the “consensus” necessary for truly united congregations and denominations.

Intellectual, social and moral change

It is difficult to overestimate the amount of change societies in the West have experienced since the Protestant Reformation.

The Enlightenment challenged traditional understandings of how knowledge is obtained and how authority is mediated. In its wake, new traditions developed, revolutionizing the practice of science, medicine, economics, politics, philosophy and theology.

In turn, these intellectual developments accelerated changes in social structures, political institutions and moral outlooks that already had been in the works since at least the Renaissance and created new, previously unimagined social and moral dilemmas.

The church has been a full and active participant in this vibrant intellectual and cultural environment, but that does not mean it always has been a healthy participant.

Some have adopted uncritically the perspectives of an increasingly secular intelligentsia, while others have longed uncritically for a less complicated and less contested past. This binary approach to analyzing the situation, however, never has captured fully what is happening to the church.

A complex array of often conflicting forces has conspired to unravel Christian unity one thread at a time. Moreover, the average follower of Jesus—whether radical, liberal, conservative or fundamentalist—is profoundly unaware of how far her or his perceptions, priorities and values are from those espoused by the earliest Christians.

Competing gospels

It is not surprising, out of such a variegated intellectual and cultural environment, we would see different assessments of the human problem and different solutions to that problem emerge.

In their book How to Think Theologically, Howard Stone and James Duke rightly characterize these differing matrices of theological and ministerial priorities as alternative definitions of “the gospel.”

As Paul makes clear in Galatians 1:6-10, it is bad enough the church has lost consensus with respect to its core message, but what makes matters worse is lay persons, and even clergy, often are unaware of the presuppositions they bring to their construal of the gospel.

Much ink has been spilled on how some have redefined Christian theology, ministry and discipleship in terms of a revisionist—often Marxist—agenda, while others have reacted against such revisionist agendas by demanding adherence to an ever-narrowing orthodoxy.

Discussions of such theological options are important, for although fresh insight on Christianity is always welcome and recovery of neglected doctrines is always necessary, there are also serious threats to orthodoxy, orthopraxy and orthopathy (right affections) posed by both of these alternatives.

We should not, however, restrict our attention to the war between liberal and conservative impulses within the church. Doing so will blind us, not only to other “gospels” vying for the affections of the church, but also will blind us to the questions raised by those “gospels.”

Failing to attend to such questions not only neglects important intellectual, socio-emotional and moral concerns, but—perhaps unintentionally—it robs those who feel those concerns most deeply of the dignity of being heard, which, in turn, sows the seeds of disunity.

Toxic ecclesiology

According to Michel Hendricks and Jim Wilder, our post-Enlightenment context has done more than proliferate doctrinal confusion. It has distorted the way church works.

In their book The Other Half of Church, Hendricks and Wilder argue the Enlightenment elevated the mind at the expense of the heart and the body.

This imbalanced anthropology led churches to place an ever-increasing value on doctrine, to over-emphasize the importance of individual choices, and to privilege measurable success—what we whimsically might call “nickles and noses”—over spiritual, emotional and relational health.

Hendricks and Wilder do not believe orthodoxy is unimportant, nor do they suggest practical, measurable standards of institutional health are bad in and of themselves. What they do argue, however, is these emphases have supplanted other, more important, concerns.

They argue too many churches have little interest in actually being the church—in developing stable, affectionate attachments among members that embody the robust, enduring love of Christ (see 1 Corinthians 12:1-13:13).

In other words, too many churches dispense with the work of true discipleship—the work of becoming like Jesus in our emotions and reactions, as well as in our thinking and doctrine—in favor of tasks easier to accomplish and easier to measure. The result of that kind of church leadership is a spiritual environment where attachments among members are weak and where joy cannot be found.

If Hendricks and Wilder are right—and I think they are—we should not be surprised unity is so difficult.

Our churches are not structured to produce spiritually healthy, emotionally mature disciples of Jesus, and without that maturity, we struggle to handle conflict in a way that will preserve the mutual affection, common vision and cooperative effort of the group.

What is even more sinister is Hendricks and Wilder draw a direct connection between low-joy, low-love ecclesiological contexts and the infiltration of narcissistic leaders into our congregations and denominations.

Dire consequences

When faced with threats like the ones described above, we are tempted constantly to jettison the Bible’s emphasis on the church as a family in favor of a “church as tribe” mentality. We no longer identify ourselves in terms of commitment to specific people. Instead, we find our meaning and purpose in loyalty to a cause.

Causes almost invariably make people expendable. But people never are expendable in the kingdom of God. So, treating them as such deprives our churches of their fidelity to Christ and our doctrines of their integrity.

We must find a different way to be human, a different way to be the church, a different way to follow Jesus. That is what I hope we can begin to do in my next article.

Wade Berry is pastor of Second Baptist Church in Ranger and resident fellow in New Testament and Greek at B.H. Carroll Theological Seminary. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

I still remember going to video rental stores as a kid, excited to get a movie, TV show or video game to enjoy. Of course, those days are over. The video rental store industry is essentially dead.

In an age of online streaming, most consumers simply do not want or think they need to rent physical media anymore. This illustrates a simple but vital principle of business: If you only push a product people do not want and/or do not think they need, your business will fail.

The local church is not a business, and we are not “pushing a product.” Nevertheless, the principle still applies. If your community does not want or think they need what your church has to offer, your church eventually will close.

The end of an era

There was a time in many regions of the United States when there was a widespread cultural custom that people should go to church. How personally devout you were, the details of your theology and your chosen denomination weren’t super important. You just needed to be a member and (somewhat regular) attender at a relatively mainstream church.

Why? Because widespread cultural Christianity in the United States resulted in strong social pressure to participate in local churches. If you wanted to be seen as a decent, respectable member of society, you went to church.

This norm affected the way churches did outreach and evangelism. Your church didn’t have to work too hard to convince people to come to church. You just had to convince them to come to your church.

But American culture has shifted dramatically in the past few decades. There no longer is this widespread cultural pressure to be part of a church. For many people now, going to church will actually cost you social status and respectability.

Coddling consumers

Most churches in the United States, even within the Bible Belt, are feeling the effects of this cultural shift. Churches are losing members and closing their doors. Many churches realize if they want to survive, they need to reach more people. But how? What does the local church have to offer that will make people want to come?

There are a number of “real-world” benefits to church attendance even some secular people have recognized: community, a support network, encouraging sermons, uplifting live music, various fun activities for people of all ages, community service opportunities and more.

Numerous churches around the country are growing precisely because they do a great job providing the benefits listed above. But there’s a problem: Churches aren’t the only organizations that can provide those benefits. You can find community, fun activities, service opportunities and so on in all sorts of places.

And being a faithful, committed member of a biblical church requires sacrificing time, energy, money and often social status.

If I can have fun with my friends just by staying out late at a bar with live music on a Friday or Saturday night, why get up early on Sunday morning to attend a comparatively boring church service, especially when many of my friends consider what my church teaches to be stupid, offensive and bigoted?

Naturally, as the Apostle Paul predicted, many churches therefore decide to water down the more difficult and offensive parts of the Bible and church life to keep people from leaving (2 Timothy 4:3).

The words of eternal life

Hopefully, readers will recognize watering down biblical truth is not a faithful option. But what should churches do then?

One solution is to try and draw people in with the real-world benefits described above, but then take the opportunity to evangelize them and teach them the truths of God’s word.

At first, that seems like a great idea. But it didn’t quite work out that way for Jesus. In John 6, Jesus is being followed by a massive crowd—literally thousands of people—after the feeding of the 5,000.

But then Jesus says this to the crowd: “You are looking for me, not because you saw the signs, but because you ate the loaves and were filled. Don’t work for the food that perishes but for the food that lasts for eternal life” (John 6:26-27 CSB).

In other words, Jesus tells the crowd they are seeking him for the wrong reason: earthly, this-worldly benefits. Free food. Jesus says the real reason they should follow him is because he offers eternal life.

Jesus then starts teaching the crowd (6:28-59). But they get confused and angry over his teachings (6:41-42, 52, 60). However, Jesus just doubles down. By the time he’s done, the crowd and even a number of his closer followers have walked away, leaving only the Twelve (6:61-67).

When Jesus asks the Twelve if they plan to abandon him as well, Peter responds: “Lord, to whom will we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God” (6:68-69).

Why does this small, ragtag group of followers stick with Jesus after everyone else has left? Just one reason: Jesus has the words of eternal life.

What the local church has to offer

Our churches might draw in a lot of people with fun activities, good music, community service and such. But if we stand firm on the hard parts of what Jesus and the Bible teach, we can expect to lose many—probably most—of those same people pretty quickly (Mark 4:13-20).

But here’s the good news: We have the words of eternal life. They have been entrusted to us by Jesus himself—the gospel message and the Scriptures. On top of that, Christ has given us the Holy Spirit (John 14:16-17). And these are more than sufficient.

There is one thing—and only one thing—the local church has to offer the world it can’t get somewhere else—the love of Jesus Christ (John 13:34-35, 1 John 4:7-21). By faithfully embracing, teaching and living out the words of eternal life given to us by Jesus, local churches can provide their communities with a “product” infinitely greater than any earthly good.

The people all around us need Jesus. They need his atoning death on the cross. They need his resurrection from the dead. They need his words—the Bible. They need the love of Jesus.

When we point people to Christ and demonstrate his love, we may not save every church from closing. We may not draw large crowds. But we will give people something they absolutely need, something no one else can give them.

Joshua Sharp is the pastor of Trinity Baptist Church in Orange, and a graduate of Southwest Baptist University in Bolivar, Mo., and Baylor University’s Truett Theological Seminary in Waco. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

On Sunday morning, as I make my way inside for worship, I can’t seem to ignore it.

You certainly could point to other things that ought to grab my attention: the orange sky as the sun peeks over the trees to the east, the warm glow emanating through the stained glass ahead of me or the beautiful fountain flowing to my right.

But what holds my gaze captive in those early hours as I head to the doors of First Baptist Church in Amarillo lies at my feet. There, patterned in the brick sidewalk, a cross lines the path.

I cannot enter the building for worship without passing through the cross. So, each Sunday morning it waits for me.

Once I reach it, the brown brick cross directs my mind to the call of Jesus: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Matthew 16:24, NIV).

The cross cannot be bypassed if we want to follow Jesus, and quite literally, I must choose to walk through it each time I enter for worship.

Its placement is no accident. In fact, though it may go unnoticed, the cross is integral to the architecture of our church campus. It is found everywhere, built into the very structure of our buildings. And its presence guides my attention to our crucified and risen Lord, challenging me to assess my heart as I prepare to join God’s people in retelling that story.

Many—such as Constance M. Cherry in The Worship Architect: A Blueprint for Designing Culturally Relevant and Biblically Faithful Services—have described parallels between architecture and worship design.

Just as the physical structure of our campus testifies to the living God, the organizational structure within our gathered worship—fixed and formal or loose and free—holds great opportunity for conveying whose company we enjoy, whose story we celebrate, and whose glory we profess.

Whose company?

From grand medieval cathedrals to an intimately beautiful country church, our spaces demonstrate something of the God we claim to worship.

Some rooms emphasize God’s transcendence, featuring vaulted ceilings and ornate detail. Such architectural artistry reminds those who enter to worship that they are stepping into the overlap of heaven and earth. Here, they will encounter the living God who calls them into his presence.

Do our liturgical structures foster a similar experience? Do the first words of our worship help us recognize whose company we enjoy? That is, do we acknowledge the fact God is the one who calls us together in Christ, that he is there in our midst?

Of course, there are lots of ways to do this, but when we begin our worship only with a trite greeting, our congregations might mistake a corporate encounter with God for a high-production social gathering.

Whose story?

Like countless sacred spaces throughout time, the walls of the sanctuary at First Baptist Amarillo are lined with beautiful stained-glass windows, each depicting a key moment or theme from Scripture.

Both Old and New Testament images attest to the one story of God, culminating in its fulfillment in Jesus the king. By his grace, we find ourselves caught up in this grand story of redemption.

Do the structures and content of our worship services retell this story, or might our gatherings give the impression we come only to retell my story?

Our individual stories matter to God and should matter to each other, but as we publicly read Scripture, celebrate baptism, sing the gospel story, observe the Lord’s Supper and pray for the culmination of God’s kingdom, we might recognize our personal narratives within the broader drama of salvation.

When we dedicate time in our services for these elements, we stave off the temptation toward the hyper-individualism of the culture. His story is the story we celebrate, and in Christ, his story has become our own.

Whose glory?

When our gathered worship is expressed toward the God who dwells with us and is rooted in his story, we are drawn anew to wonder at the depths of his glory.

Just as the cross that greets me on my way into church, the fixed elements of worship guide our attention to the Triune God and serve to unify the voice of his people in praise.

All too often, however, we as worship planners cater to the comfort and perceived needs of the worshippers. In attempting to put them at ease, calls to worship devolve into a friendly wave. For practical reasons, baptisms occur outside after the service. Musical elements become determined more by stylistic preference than content.

Is the telos—the intended end—of our worship structure the glory of God? Or is it practicality, comfortability and applicability? Whose glory do we profess?

Worship renewal has to start by asking the right questions. I do not necessarily know the right answers to all the issues raised above, let alone whether these are the right questions. But I’m still drawn back to the brick cross beneath my feet, and I wonder: Can our services do the same? Where is our worship pointing us?

Parker Bowen serves as the associate minister of music at First Baptist Church in Amarillo. He holds a Master of Arts degree from Denver Seminary and a Master of Music degree from Baylor University. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

Splitting a local congregation ought to be more difficult than splitting an atom, and dividing the universal church ought to be more difficult than dividing the sun. But division seems to be the natural order of things for Christian (and other) groups. Why?

In my next article, I will discuss a series of threats to Christian unity—historical and cultural phenomena particular to the United States. But churches in every time and every culture struggle with unity. So, in this article, I want to explore some of the challenges we all face as we try to live out Christ’s vision for his body.

Insights from Scripture

Scripture insists much of the disunity in our midst is the result of our own failure to live in accordance with the message of Jesus and the guidance of the Holy Spirit (2 Corinthians 12:20-21; Galatians 5:13-26; Philippians 2:1-11; James 3:13-17).

It is astonishing how both Paul and James cluster so many descriptors around one another, illustrating a particular orientation rooted in envy, arrogance and ambition, and resulting in a wide variety of socially unhealthy behaviors. This orientation is not only “demonic,” but it also is inconsistent with citizenship in God’s kingdom.

As if to drive home the seriousness of these matters, both Paul and James closely associate this sinful orientation with other, more obvious sins. Moreover, they both contrast it with a different kind of life—one rooted in humility and selflessness and resulting in gentleness, social order and human flourishing.

Mathew’s Gospel gives us another way to think about the problem Paul and James describe. Jesus was nothing if not realistic about how the church would function (Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43). Nevertheless, he insisted the gospel is about losing ourselves in devotion to our master (Matthew 16:21-27; 24:45-51; 25:14-30) and in care for one another (Matthew 7:12; 22:34-40; 25:31-46).

Too many Christian leaders, however, have seen both the gospel and the church as means to gratify their most debased cravings. As Russell Moore points out in Losing Our Religion, such leaders not only corrupt everything they touch, but they also drive godly leaders out of our institutions. Their narcissism, shamelessness and psychopathy choke out anything honest, wholesome or beautiful.

Insights from current events

Not all division has its origins in sin. Sometimes, the dynamics of a group can be so fraught with difficulty and complexity they make unity almost impossible.

We could illustrate this point with numerous examples from Baptist history, but sometimes it is easier for us to see challenges like the ones I am describing when we look at someone else’s problems.

Recently, Christianity Today reported on the struggles faced by the Evangelical Presbyterian Church as it tries to live out its historic emphasis on unity in a new situation. Observers of the denomination pointed to the influx of churches from both sides of the evangelical/mainline-Protestant divide as contributing to the challenges, but they also made two more interesting observations.

First, these observers noted individuals and congregations are operating on the basis of different narratives. That is, they tell different stories about who they are, about why the denomination exists and about why the denomination is needed. These stories are important because they both reflect and shape values, but they also present members of the denomination with rival slates of heroes, villains, opportunities and threats.

What makes foundational narratives so powerful—and so problematic—is we tend to gravitate toward stories that sound like our own. Thus, many of our assumptions about God, ourselves and the world never are challenged or scrutinized.

We walk into dialogue with other Christians carrying a false sense of certainty, and we leave that dialogue bewildered as to why they do not share our thoughts, feelings, perceptions and values.

Second, individuals and congregations are operating out of different theological frameworks. Some emphasize the “evangelical” part of the denomination’s identity, while others emphasize the “Presbyterian” aspect of that identity.

Of course, these frameworks are more rooted in the stories people tell themselves than they realize, but they also have a life of their own, shaping the way people think about controversial topics and even their foundational narratives.

Not as simple as it looks

One might wonder, “Can’t we just tell people to immerse themselves in the gospel story, allowing it to shape both their character and their identity?” If only it were that simple.

Without doubt, we need to make the story of God’s creative and redemptive activity in the world our foundational narrative, and it ought to be the framework through which we build the intellectual and emotional components of our identity. But that is always a work in progress. So is the process of dying to ourselves and living for Christ.

Moreover, even if everyone in the church was committed to the orientation that Paul and James demand, and even if we were all good at immersing ourselves in the grand story of Scripture, we still would be impacted by the joys and pains of our own story.

We cannot get away from the particularity and the limitations of being human, and so the call to unity is also a call to engage creatively and faithfully the many and varied stories we bring to the church.

Wade Berry is pastor of Second Baptist Church in Ranger and resident fellow in New Testament and Greek at B.H. Carroll Theological Seminary. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

He was born on May 8, 1928. He grew up in Huntsville, Texas. His name was and is Doyle Stuckey.

His parents were very poor. They were coming through the Great Depression. He and his three older siblings had only one pair of shoes to share. His oldest brother wore them one day, the next brother got to wear them the following day, then his sister got the next day, and finally Mr. Stuckey as a boy got his turn. They rotated each day with that one pair of shoes.

When Sunday rolled around, whoever’s turn it was to wear those shoes got to go to church. The others stayed home. Why? Because the family had a reverence for God. They refused to go improperly dressed.

From abject poverty, the family pushed through. They raised their own food. Their mother sewed the family’s clothes. The kids each had responsibilities at home and work outside the home to help survive.

With World War II underway, Mr. Stuckey joined the military at age 17. By then, the war had reached its near conclusion. Mr. Stuckey joked, saying he spent the rest of the war defending San Diego, Calif.

After the war

After his stint in the Marines, Mr. Stuckey went to college at Sam Houston State University, where he met his future wife Edloe Weems. Together they had three sons. They lost their third son at an early age to cancer.

Out of college, Mr. Stuckey took on three jobs to support his family, one of which was working for a building contractor. Three jobs. Today, people are pushing for a four-day work week. The Greatest Generation worked. They worked a lot. They valued providing for their own needs. It gave them a purpose beyond sustenance.

The next thing you know, Mr. Stuckey tried his hand at building his own homes. He was quite successful. Over the span of his life, he built more than 8,000 homes, several apartments, a few hotels, one women’s shelter and a church.

Mr. Stuckey also owned an insurance agency, two hotels and a bank. In addition, he was on the board of directors for two other banks, his church, the Shriners hospital, Young Life and the Leukemia Society. Not bad for a kid who once had to share one pair of shoes.

Homebuilder

In 2000, Lori and I saw a new development going up in Jersey Village, northwest Houston. We loved the design of the homes. The quality was outstanding. It was then we met our friend Mr. Stuckey.

From being the largest private homebuilder in Houston, Mr. Stuckey had lost everything to the savings and loan crisis of 1980. He sought no government bailout. He fought his way back.

Our first meeting, we were dealing with one of his salesmen. Mr. Stuckey walked in and thanked us for buying one of his homes. He handed us his card and left for his next project. He had a look of importance touched with grace.

Later, Mr. Stuckey built his own home in our neighborhood with his sweet wife. We became fast friends. Lori and I moved after several years, but missed our Stuckey home so much, we went to his house a year later and asked him to build us another one. He gladly did.

Church builder

Roll forward, the church I pastor was building our sanctuary. The builder ran off with our money. We were desperate.

I went to visit Mr. Stuckey to see if he could help. I expected a man with a red cape and a red “S” on his chest.

What I found was a sick man lying in his recliner with an eye patch. He had cancer and lost his eye. He was very weak. I decided not to mention anything about our church’s need.

As we finished visiting, with a soft voice, he asked how the church’s building project was going. I told him what had happened. He sat up tall in his chair with surprising strength. He said, “Johnny, I will build that sanctuary for you.”

I looked over at Mrs. Stuckey. She began to cry. To this day, I am not sure if it was because he was too sick to do it or because she had not seen him light up like he did at that moment.

I thanked him but told him we’d manage. He needed to get well.

Mr. Stuckey insisted, saying, “Johnny, I will get on this right away.”

Two weeks later, there was a construction trailer on our lot. Activity rolling on and off the property. Mr. Stuckey, dressed in business attire and a glass eye, was carrying architecture plans from an architect he hired.

Within a year, Church at the Cross was in its new building in Alief. We have baptized more than 500 during this time and the church is faithfully serving this community, because God used a bankrupt, cancer-ridden homebuilder who loved the Lord.

Mr. Stuckey went to be with our Father a few months back at the age 96. His son said at the funeral, “The greatest gift our dad gave us was a love for the Lord and a good name.”

I pray to leave the same. How about you?

Johnny Teague is the senior pastor of Church at the Cross in West Houston and the author of several books. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

Persecution had broken out in Jerusalem after the stoning of Stephen. Believers fled Jerusalem. Some went to Antioch. There, believers were called “Christians” for the first time.

The church at Antioch was growing rapidly, and Barnabas needed help. He went to find Saul to help him, and along with a team, they led the church at Antioch.

As they were worshipping and ministering, the Holy Spirit called Barnabas and Saul to a new work. They were to go and spread the gospel message. In obedience to the call of the Holy Spirit, Barnabas and Saul set off.

There was no convention sending them off. They didn’t have the security of financial investors in their mission. The Bible doesn’t provide us with a map they planned to follow. They didn’t strategize methods of evangelism or undertake any special training.

They set off into the unknown. They were to boldly go where the gospel hadn’t gone before.

The unknown

The unknown is uncomfortable. Most people like sure and solid things. We want to know what we can expect upfront. We don’t like our lives to be a roller coaster of adventure—even though, looking back, life is kind of like a roller coaster.

They were called by God to do something, and they had to get out there and do it. Now was the time to stretch their wings and do something new for God’s sake.

They could not be content holding down the fort until Jesus came. They could not be satisfied with “the way they had always done things.” They had to break new ground and do something new in obedience to the call of the Holy Spirit.

They were willing to go, to do the work of the ministry and to listen to the voice of the Holy Spirit. Their faith in God propelled them to undertake something new. They knew God had called them, and that was enough.

A mark of an authentic church is inspired vision.

Holy Spirit inspiration

The church at Antioch moved under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. They were worshipping the Lord and fasting when they became aware of a new work the Holy Spirit wanted done.

It wasn’t a week-long, pre-planned revival meeting, all-night prayer vigil or other program that caused the movement. They were worshipping God when the call came. They were ready and willing to obey, because they were prepared and expecting the Holy Spirit to move them.

Inspiration is when God moves on your heart to do something for him. The church at Antioch moved with God and undertook an inspired vision to do something that hadn’t been done before. What had been done before was good for its time, but the time had come for new things to be done.

New things can be messy and scary. New things involve trial and error. New things involve risk.

There are numerous examples from Scripture when ordinary people, going about their day, gained an inspired vision that propelled them to do something new. They received an inspired vision, and they obeyed.

Moses saw the burning bush and left his sheep to be the deliverer of God’s people from Egypt. Gideon was threshing wheat when he was called to be a judge of Israel. David was delivering food to his brothers in Saul’s army when he encountered the challenge of Goliath. Isaiah gained a vision of God, and it inspired him to action.

A new thing

Up until Paul’s first missionary journey, the spread of the gospel had been limited mostly to Jewish population centers. The Bible records a couple of times when the gospel reached the Gentiles, like in the case of Peter and Cornelius, but this happened in a predominately Jewish area.

Paul and Barnabas ministered in predominately Gentile areas and had seen God open the door for Gentiles to come to faith in Christ.

The gospel spreading and coming to the Gentiles was a new thing. This was a revolutionary new policy of including the Gentiles in the kingdom of God.

The church would be a multinational, multiethnic and worldwide movement of God. The promise of the Abrahamic covenant was being fulfilled through Barnabas and Paul. All the nations of the earth were being blessed through the seed of Abraham, Jesus Christ.

Some people didn’t like the new thing. They wanted the old thing. They wanted to do what they always had done. Some wanted the Gentiles to become Jews to be an heir of salvation (Acts 15).

This new thing created such a controversy that Paul and Barnabas went to Jerusalem to argue with the “established church” about the inclusion of Gentiles in the faith.

A new thing can be uncomfortable and jarring, and it should be. God moves us to do a new thing because the old thing isn’t working. The message of the gospel hasn’t changed, and the message never will change, but the methods have to change.

A new thing now

What was done before will not be enough to move churches into the future. What was done as recently as two years ago is unlikely to be the thing that will reach people with the gospel today.

Just having a church building in a community will not cause people to seek the Lord. Having a website and Facebook page will not be enough to lead people to faith in Christ. Knocking on doors and asking people to come to church is unlikely to produce much in our modern times. We are going to have to seek new methods of spreading the gospel.

Churches will need new methods to spread the gospel on a personal level. The low-hanging fruit has been picked. We are going to need to build personal one-on-one relationships with those who need Jesus.

Ben Karner is the senior pastor of Pine Forest Baptist Church in Vidor. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

Several years ago, I did some supply preaching for a church without a pastor. I preached a couple of sermons on unity, reasoning a church that had been in decline for as long as this one might benefit from a renewal of its call to mutual affection, concern and support.

I also knew the congregation had experienced a significant amount of conflict over the previous year, and I hoped a deep and compassionate exploration of Scripture’s vision for the church might allow the members of this congregation to process some of the pain they bore.

After the second sermon, a member of the search committee called me—without the knowledge or permission of the rest of its members. He asked me not to preach on unity anymore, asserting, “We’re already united.”

I was flabbergasted by the audacity of such a request. As my wife so artfully put the matter: “Of course, they’re united. They ran off everyone who disagrees with them!”

It is an-all-too familiar story—both in our congregations and our denominations. Some people use unity to force conformity upon their peers in the organization, while others use it to avoid accountability for their heterodoxy and moral decadence. Both uses of the term fall short of the vision Christ and his apostles had for the church.

Unity and agreement

In our individualistic, democratized society, the first question many people are going to ask about unity is, “How much do we have to agree to be united?”

It is a fair question, for Scripture presumes we will agree with one another about the essentials of the faith (1 Corinthians 15:1-11). But what about other matters?

Paul seems to anticipate uniformity will not be possible always, either in doctrine or in practice (Romans 14:1-15:13). And yet, at least one of the primary messages of Romans is the various house churches in the imperial city can, and should, work with one another and with Paul to advance the gospel.

This appeal is built upon the gospel itself (Romans 1:16-8:39; 9:30-10:17)—a message that emphasizes the need all humans have for grace and the hope all humans can receive in Christ.

Observing Paul’s clear teaching that unity in Christ should transcend the differences of ethnicity, gender, class and culture that so often divide people from one another (see Galatians 3:26-29; Colossians 3:11), some have argued unity also should transcend points of significant disagreement among Christians about theology, ethics and politics.

Indeed, these points of disagreement sometimes are presented as strengths to be cultivated.

Two challenges

While leadership theorists long have championed the importance of healthy disagreement, arguing it makes organizations more effective, applying this perspective to unity in the church faces at least two challenges.

First, Paul explicitly calls upon his converts to agree with one another, not just in how they think, but also in what they say (1 Corinthians 1:10; see Philippians 4:2-3). Indeed, Paul presents the quarrels that result from disagreements in the church as a sign of spiritual immaturity (1 Corinthians 3:3) or even of corrupt character (1 Timothy 6:2b-5).

Second, when foundational convictions differ, Christians end up working at cross-purposes with one another.

Imagine if one congregation is lobbying for a sexually sadistic murderer to be put to death while another church right down the street is lobbying for capital punishment to be abolished.

Can these two churches be said to be in Christian unity? I think not.

Their differing activities within the public sphere evidence deeper disagreements about the nature of God, the meaning of justice, and possibly even the implications of the gospel.

More than agreement

Nevertheless, it hardly can be denied that a biblical vision of unity extends far beyond what historian James Davison Hunter calls “consensus.” It looks a whole lot more like what he describes as “solidarity.”

Consider, for example, Paul’s description of unity in Philippians 1:27-2:4. For the venerable apostle, Christian unity is rooted in our shared experience of Christ and the Spirit.

That shared experience not only creates a common ecosystem in which Christian minds reflect the mind of Christ (see Philippians 2:5-11), but it also produces shared, positive emotions that bind believers to one another.

The connection is so close that Paul compounds two words into one—“one-souled”—as if he is straining both his mind and the linguistic resources available to him to communicate his vision for the church. And that unity should produce a common struggle on behalf of the gospel.

Or consider Ephesians 4:1-6. Here, Paul presents unity as a product of the Spirit’s presence and activity, and yet, he also calls believers to play their part in preserving that unity.

What does the Spirit give to the church? He gives it a common object of worship, a common locus of authority, a common deposit of trustworthy revelation, a common ritual, a common social identity that also functions as our mechanism for acting on Christ’s behalf, and a common hope that carries us through the suffering of this life.

And what is our part in all this? Paul says it is to cultivate a character, both individually and corporately, defined by humility, patience, gentleness and love.

Scripture’s vision of unity

These texts, among many others, do not deny the importance of agreeing with one another about important issues of faith and practice. Indeed, they seem to assume that agreement. But they push us to a far deeper understanding of what unity looks like.

They present us with the challenge of viewing one another through the lens of the oneness for which Christ prayed (John 17:11, 20-23), and they call us to construct our self-understanding in a way that includes those who are not like us in many ways but who share our commitment to and experience of the Triune God.

It is this deeper dimension of unity that will help us navigate the challenges of life together in Christ. After all, the Bible is nothing if not realistic about the human condition.

We are finite, both in terms of our experience and in terms of our abilities. Moreover, we are fallen. We are going to sin sometimes, and that means we also will disagree with one another sometimes.

We need a vision of unity that can hold us together even when the world, the devil and our own flesh are trying to tear us apart, and that is what Scripture gives us.

Wade Berry is pastor of Second Baptist Church in Ranger and resident fellow in New Testament and Greek at B.H. Carroll Theological Seminary. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author. Part 1 is can be read here.