Over the last year, I've learned that a local church's unity is a fragile thing. It must be guarded, fostered, watched after with vigilance.
Further, unity is not what we think it is. It is NOT agreement on every issue, it is not sharing the same assessment of every situation or the same idea of how to resolve every problem (or even most problems).
Rather, it is a deep understanding of the bond we share in Christ, the mutual stake we have in one another's lives, the power we have to bless or curse, to build up or tear down, and then acting accordingly.
It assumes the ability to distinguish primary from secondary things, it assumes the ability to understand that emotional responses are not arguments for debate but experiences with which we must reckon.
Unity means we must assume the best in each other. It asks that we move slow. And then move even more slowly. It asks that we give enough time to each other to gain an understanding of another’s point of view.
Unity flows from deeply understanding one's own convictions and understanding our own convictions so deeply that you are curious about, rather than threatened by, differences of opinion.
Guarding unity requires so much pastoral skill. It requires boldness and gentleness, proactivity and patience, conviction and compromise. One must be committed to fostering it all day long, in every email, in the words that will go in the sermon, in each pastoral meeting, and in every decision. It requires constant attention. A pastor is never not thinking about unity.
Unity requires that a pastor not think about "the church member" but to think about real people with real histories. Nothing is abstract about a local church's unity. When it comes to these things, we simply cannot allow our thinking to remain in the land of abstractions. The Scriptures are full of rich metaphors when they describe God’s people and these concepts are often abstract. But these abstract concepts must be applied in concrete ways. Unity, in this sense, is not an idea. Rather, in Christ, it is an actual bond between actual people.
It requires a deep commitment to the way of Jesus and the truth of Jesus. And, when tended to, and given by God's grace to a local church, unity gives to that church the very life of Jesus.
It's sobering to realize that unity, as the NT describes it, is not for everyone. It isn’t immediately the most palatable thing in the world. It’s inefficient, hard-won, slow, and intrinsically humiliating (in the true sense of the word, it brings one low). It's an acquired taste that one has to be patient enough to learn to like.
Fighting for it exacts much pastoral pain. It makes you think, "Why am I doing this?"
And the simple answer is because it pleases Jesus, smells sweet to his nostrils. So much so that he prayed for it, personally. It is worth every sorrow. And the joy of seeing it bubbling up in a local church is unspeakable.