Three Legs to the Table of Unity
Editor’s Note: The following excerpt come from City to City Australia’s book Unity for Movement, written by Greig Whittaker and Andrew Katay. For more reflections on the concept of unity and practical insights into how to work towards it, we encourage you to read the full work.
Throughout the New Testament, Jesus prays that His followers would be one in unity and challenges them to include others from the ends of the earth. Paul continues this theme in his letters, such as in Ephesians 4:1-3, where he tells us that we are to “lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. For there is one body...” (For a larger treatment of why and how God calls us to unity, I encourage you to read the full version of City to City Australia’s recent book, Unity for Movement.)
But as many church planters find when they endeavor to obey this command, unity on the ground is always messy, difficult, and slow. I’m tempted to write, “That’s because the people that we are seeking to be unified with are messy, difficult and slow,” but the truth is actually far closer to home. I am messy, difficult, and slow. And so are you.
Sometimes I think that unity is a bit like humility—just when you think you’ve got it under control and are ready to start instructing others in it, the Lord provides you with an interaction or an experience that makes it perfectly clear that you are still a beginner. Humility is one thing that by definition you can’t boast about, and unity is humility’s close cousin.
Actually, unity—expressed on the ground with all its challenges as a unity table—needs three legs to serve as its stable base.
The First Leg: HUMILITY AND STRENGTH
The first leg is a rare combination. It mixes winsome humility and courageous strength in equal measure. And wonderfully—unsurprisingly—it’s only the gospel of the grace of God in the cross of Christ, as it works its way into our hearts, that can produce this beautiful mix. What I mean is this. It’s clear why humility is essential for unity, a non-arrogance that recognizes that I am small and the world is big—and God and His grace are infinitely bigger—which consequently gives room for difference. But what is less clear is that humility must be paired with equal strength.
Strength of conviction in one’s own ideas and positions, clarity on how it is Scripture that undergirds them, and a recognition that as a servant of Another, it is not for me to dilute the word of God. And both are necessary. Humility without strength quickly melts into a kind of endless exploration without ever landing. Strength without humility produces only a brittleness that can find itself in strange territory—using theology (the holy things of God), and especially theological dispute, to bolster my sense of self and fragile identity. And the point is, it’s only the gospel of grace that will work humility and strength in us in equal measure at the same time.
And that’s because, as Tim Keller is famous for saying, it’s the gospel and only the gospel that humbles me by demonstrating that I am far more sinful than I ever dare admit. My sins—mine—were so dark and wicked that on their own that they needed nothing less than the blood of the Son of God to atone for them. At precisely the same time, it’s the gospel and only the gospel that demonstrates that I am far more loved than I ever dared hope because the Son of God gave His blood willingly. He loved me and gave Himself up for me on that cross.
In this way, too, unity is a direct-implication-of-the-gospel issue. To the extent that the gospel has genuinely led to heart transformation in me, I will be capable of embracing the unity that Jesus prays for and commands. The inverse holds as well—to the extent that I am incapable of, or reluctant toward unity—is the extent to which the gospel has yet to work its humbling and strengthening in me.
The end of this chain of thought is that it is curiosity of spirit, an approach to the world and to others—especially in their differences which says that I have something to learn and understand and appreciate—that is the truest mark of this humble strength. It is possible that on some topics I have precisely nothing to learn.
But actually, even if that’s true, it’s probably best to act as though it wasn’t! Curiosity that is deeply gospel-formed is an expression of both the strength and confidence I’ve gained so far, as well as an openness to what the Lord might have for me in the future.
The Second Leg: trust in relationships
The second leg of the stool flows from the first—trust in relationships. Trust is fascinating to watch. Time and time again I have seen Christian leaders ferociously denouncing one theological formulation, whilst simultaneously being good friends with someone who has precisely the theology that they have denounced!
And the inverse holds as well. There are plenty of Christian leaders who find reason to attack others who hold virtually indistinguishable theological positions as them, but because they are not known and trusted as friends, are thereby suspect. A hermeneutic of suspicion comes into play.
This is why prayer is such a fundamental feature of any genuine Spirit-led unity effort. Prayer is not only an occasion when we pour out our hearts to the Lord; it is also an occasion when we pour out our hearts before one another. It becomes increasingly difficult to adopt a hermeneutic of suspicion or a judgmental spirit toward a sister or brother with whom one has prayed deeply and regularly. In prayer, you get behind a person’s theology, to what that theology has done to their heart for Jesus. In prayer, you find out that someone might be better than their theology. That Arminians pray for God to act sovereignly to draw people to Himself; that Liberals pray for sinners to repent of their sins, rather than be coddled in them, and turn to the Lord in His mercy and grace. And that the Reformed express uncertainty in how the Lord will act in a certain situation, and so find themselves not knowing “how to pray as they ought” (Romans 8:26). All these things break stereotypes and are revealed in prayer, especially Kingdom-focused missional prayer.
At the same time, prayer is necessary but not sufficient for trust. There needs to be a genuine knowing of others—knowing their stories, their families, their crises, and the way the Lord strengthened them in and through those moments. I don’t think it’s accidental that what Jesus gave us to do in remembrance of him is a meal—to break bread together and share the fellowship of a table. As the Apostle Paul put it, “We who are many are one body in Christ, for all share in the one bread” (1 Corinthians 10:17). There is something deeply hardwired into the human experience that makes sharing a meal together transformative.
Of course, relationships of trust, especially those built around prayer and table fellowship, take an investment of time—that most precious resource. And it’s precisely because time is so scarce that we find in it an easy excuse to avoid connecting with others outside our immediate circle or tribe. But as is the case with all scarce resources, our task is to enact a confidence that God’s economy is not an economy of scarcity but of abundance—an abundance of His power in our weakness, including in our having more things to do than time to do them. And trust that He can do abundantly far more than all we ask or imagine. It may be that the Lord is displeased with a decision by a church leader to invest time in building relationships of trust with peers in the local area, and so declines to bless that church—but given Jesus’ high priestly prayer, I very much doubt it.
The Final Leg: BOUNDARIES WITH TEARS
The final leg of the stool is having boundaries with tears. The fact is that every age has its hot-button issues for Christian ministry, and ours are not difficult to find. Sexuality and gender, along with deep and perennial denominational and theological differences going back hundreds of years, inevitably present an enormous challenge to unity. They have to be confronted. But note the order.
The presumptive starting point—Biblically mandated and therefore theologically necessary—is the unity of “all those who believe in me through their word” (John 17:20). Theological innovations represent a challenge to that default, which Jesus assumed would be normal and natural, and for which He prayed.
So, every unity effort will need to determine its boundaries, deciding who is included and, consequently, who is excluded. Credal orthodoxy? Of course. Historic, Biblical sexual ethics which understand marriage to be a gift from God, not merely an alterable human institution, that is between a man and a woman, and that therefore sex is God’s gift to express and deepen the one-flesh marriage relationship? In my own conviction, yes also. Complementarian or egalitarian? Surely, this has to be one of those second-order, agree to disagree, issues that mustn’t interfere with unity. Roman Catholics, whose church is deeply engaged in Alpha and finding from that a deep renewal in the gospel? Wow, so complex.
I recognize that different people, and different unity table leadership teams, may come to different answers on these questions than I do. But that’s not quite the point here. Precisely at this moment, more than any other, it’s crucial to recognize what’s happening. Sin, misunderstanding, weakness—all of them are combining and conspiring to ensure that Jesus’ prayer is not being answered. For what may be good reasons, nonetheless, a tragedy is occurring. Contrary to the final, anguish-soaked prayer of Jesus on the night He was betrayed, we are not finding the way to “all be one” (John 17:21). It may be necessary for the sake of Biblical and theological orthodoxy, but it is no less tragic for that. And if there is the slightest joy in the tragedy, the slightest satisfaction or disdain, then it may be the case that the orthodox are even more wrong than they are right. Their faithfulness in upholding Biblical truth and standards may be outweighed by their lack of grief at the non-fulfilment of Biblical truth and standards for unity—as prayed by Jesus no less.
That’s why tears are so utterly crucial, real actual tears, not just words about tears. It’s only tears that really demonstrate that one has joined Jesus in His prayer, and mourn the miserable conditions we labor under which means that boundaries have to be drawn and people who name Jesus excluded. Give me any day a person with whom I disagree but who will weep with me, over someone who is as theologically aligned with me as possible, but who feels little grief about the body of Christ’s inability to function as a unified whole.
Because it might just be that it is in our tears more than any other place, that we share more of the heart of Jesus for His church. And surely, that is to be our ambition.
About the Author
Andrew Katay is City to City Australia’s Executive for Content and Ministry (ECM) and the Director of Coaching. This role enables him to work across denominational boundaries to be part of seeing a gospel movement take hold of cities across Australia, which is a driving passion for Andrew.
Andrew is also the Senior Minister of Christ Church Inner West in Sydney, has served as Chaplain to Sydney University, has three children with his wife Catriona, and, when he has time, enjoys a decent game of golf.