Ephesians
4:1-6
1
I therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of the
calling to which you have been called, 2 with all humility and gentleness, with
patience, bearing with one another in love, 3 making every effort to maintain
the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. 4 There is one body and one
Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, 5 one Lord,
one faith, one baptism, 6 one God and Father of all, who is above all and
through all and in all.
There’s a story preachers
like to tell of the little Baptist church in Mayfield County, Kentucky in the
1890s. The story goes something like this: the little Baptist church was only
big enough for a part-time preacher and two deacons. One week, one of the
deacons decided to put a simple, wooden peg on the wall in the entryway of the
church for the pastor to hang his hat or his coat (depending on who’s telling
the story). Well, before Sunday service, the other deacon noticed the peg on
the wall and had what some folks might call a conniption. “How dare somebody
put a peg up on the wall without first consulting me!” This second deacon then
went about the business of pulling, twisting, and removing the peg from the
wall. Well you can imagine what happened next: the first deacon arrived that
morning, expecting to see the pastor’s hat and/or coat hanging on the peg he
put up earlier that week, only to find the peg gone and a smug expression of
triumph on the face of the other deacon.
It didn’t take long for
an imaginary line to be drawn down the middle of the sanctuary. On one side
were the first deacon and all of those folks who were “pro-peg.” Their
arguments in favor of the peg revolved around the necessity of the pastor
having a place to hang his hat so as not to have to deal with it, or a place to
hang his coat so it wouldn’t wind up on a bench or bunched up on the floor.
Some talked about how the church on the other side of town had an awful nice peg
for their pastor to hang his hat or coat, so why shouldn’t they? The other side
(those who sided with the deacon who was opposed to the peg) formed their
arguments around things like tradition: “We’ve never had a peg before, why
start now?” They also argued that such a peg would be a distraction for others
in the congregation since they didn’t have a peg, and if the pastor got a peg,
they all ought to get a peg, but seeing as how there wasn’t room in the little
church for everybody to have a peg, no one should have a peg.
The poor pastor and the
ministry of that little congregation were caught in the middle of a fight
between two deacons, their allies, and their personal preferences and
victories. The church eventually split in two. As the story goes, to this day,
the good folks in Mayfield County, Kentucky still refer to the Baptists in that
little community as the “peg Baptists” and “anti-peg Baptists.”[1]
It goes without saying
(but I’ll say it anyway) that this isn’t what church unity looks like, yet too
many times conflicts in congregations begin with silly little things like coat
pegs. If this is a bad example, then what is a good example of unity in a
congregation? What does Christian unity really look like among church members?
Well, some might say it’s when all (or most) of the members agree on everything
(or most everything), when most of the members of a congregation are on the
same page about particular issues. I suppose the theory goes that if all the
members of the church agree all the time then everything is ok: nothing could
go wrong so long as everyone gets along and feels the same way about things. If
I’m honest, I’m not too sure that’s what Christian unity among church members
looks like…
At a church not too far
from here, on a Sunday not too long ago (just a few decades), church members
were joined hand-in-hand, some even arm-in-arm, on the steps leading to the
front door of the sanctuary. They were singing together, praying together,
shouting “Amen!” any time one of them said something to those who were looking
on the rather unusual scene. Maybe they were causing a scene because few folks
had witnessed such a unified congregation. Maybe the folks were watching
because they had never seen such a site as so many Baptists coming together in
unity to make a statement against what they saw as a social sin. You see, these
members were unified, linked hand-in-hand and arm-in-arm in front of their
sanctuary that Sunday morning because they all agreed—they were all in one
accord—they decided nearly unanimously that they didn’t want any black families
worshipping with them in their
sanctuary—I’m not so sure that’s what Christian unity among church members is
supposed to look like. So what does it look like when church members come
together in Christian unity? Well…it’s simply complicated.
You see, it didn’t take
too long for the Apostle Paul to figure out that Christian unity takes more
than a common creed, worship services, and a shared zip code. Last week we
heard just a few of the issues going on at the church in Corinth, and this week
we’ve heard a plea from the apostle (or someone writing in his name) for
Christian unity among the Christians at Ephesus and the other congregations
that would receive and hear this letter. His plea is pretty simple and straightforward:
“I…beg
you 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. There
is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your
calling, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is
above all and through all and in all.” That’s easier said than done!
You see, I think it would
have been easier for Paul—for all of us—if Jesus hadn’t come along preaching
all that “good news.” What Jesus did, what the gospel does, is it flings open
the doors, and it flings them open wide! Jesus came preaching a gospel that
says God is love, and that love is for all. Now, here it might take a little
exegetical explanation as to the declension of the Greek word (or words) often
translated as “all.” You see, what these words actually mean is ALL! There’s no
wiggle room; Jesus didn’t use a word that meant “all but the troublemakers,” or
“all except the ones who don’t get it,” or “all but those who are the worst
kind of sinner.” Jesus preached a gospel for everyone, for all, and when you
fling the doors open wide, when you send the servants out to bring folks into
the wedding banquet from the highways and hedges, when you welcome the
reprobates, the lepers, the prostitutes, the scribes, the religious, the
unreligious, the sinners, and the saints, well…they’re not all going to see
eye-to-eye on every single issue. Maybe that’s the problem; maybe Jesus
shouldn’t have held the doors open so wide; maybe Jesus shouldn’t have spread
his arms so far on that cross…I don’t know…
I
don’t know: maybe if there had just been a list from the beginning, Christian
unity would be easier. If there had just been an application form issued with
the Sermon on the Mount, Paul could have avoided the sticky situations that
call for such words as we’ve heard this morning. Maybe many a business meeting
about carpet colors could have been settled within a matter of seconds rather
than months as sides were drawn between “fuchsia” and “goldenrod.” Maybe all
those tense deacons’ meetings could have been avoided, or all those pastors
who’ve been run off could have stayed if there had just been a membership code
describing who could and couldn’t be a part of the body of Christ. If Jesus had
just said, “For God so loved those who fit the criteria…” then maybe church
members could all get along. But Jesus didn’t say that—he said “all,” and “all”
includes me and you and the person next to you and all the people we’d like to
be here AND all the people we would like to keep away from here. Jesus flings
the doors open wide, stretches his arms out far enough to include everybody,
and if we’re all honest with each, it’s hard to get along with everybody.
Maybe
that’s why churches split sometime. Maybe that’s why there are Catholics,
Lutherans, Presbyterians, Baptists, Quakers, Methodists, and Pentecostals.
Maybe there are so many churches because when everyone is welcome to the
wedding feasts, when everyone shows up to the family reunion, some of the
cousins need to sit far away from one another. Maybe that’s it, but I have
another thought, and I think it might hit a little closer to home.
See,
I’m nearly convinced that the reason Christian unity is so hard to keep among
church members is because so many of us are determined to be right, determined
to prove we’ve got it all figured out and everyone else ought to get on board
with our way of thinking or else they’re going to wind up on Jesus’ bad side.
We’re so sure that we’ve got it all figured out that if anyone disagrees with
us, if they understand things a little differently, or if they see our way of
life as less than perfect, well—they must be wrong about everything and
therefore unfit to be a part of our
fellowship. This plays out in the ways we fight over small, trivial things that
have no real, eternal value, whether it’s coat pegs, carpet color, the height
of the steeple, the style of worship, the dress code, the number of weekly
services and their times, who can and can’t use the church van, or the removal
of trees in the parking lot. When our opinions are countered, when others disagree
with us, when something we’re so sure is right is questioned and our pride is
wounded, well then it’s hard to get along.
But
what if we let all of that go? What if we stopped worrying about the small,
insignificant things? What if we dared to admit we don’t have it all figured
out, that we’re not so sure about some things, and there are probably a lot of
things we’re getting wrong? What if we decided that since Jesus welcomed all we ought to do the same
thing? What if we decided that in flinging the doors open wide we let in those
who aren’t like us, those who don’t like us, and those we don’t like? What if
we stopped worrying about being right and just started loving others the way
Christ calls us to? You see, I’m growing more and more convinced that when that
day comes, when I stand with Christ and no longer see (as Paul says) “as
through a glass darkly,” Jesus is going to say to me, “Son, you were wrong
about so much, and that’s alright, because my grace is sufficient, my love has
won.”
Why
can’t we all just get along if we understand that we don’t have it all figured
out? Why can’t we all get along if we know we’re probably wrong about a lot of
things? Why can’t we all just get along if we live the way Jesus taught and
showed us to live by stretching our arms open wide, by welcoming all the
sinners and saints to the banquet table? You know something, I bet if we’d all
be willing to lay aside the need to be right, to have it all figured out and
prove it to others, if we’d lay that heavy burden down and take up Christ’s
yoke of love—well, Christian unity might just break out among all of us. If we can
put ourselves last—our preferences, our certainties, our egos, our pride, all
of who we are, last—we just might be able to get along. We’d see what real
Christian unity looks like as brothers and sisters serve together in the
kingdom of God, as Republicans serve alongside Democrats, as whites serve
alongside blacks, as ex-cons serve alongside widows, as kindergarteners serve
alongside college professors, as addicts serve alongside deacons, as English
speakers serve alongside those who habla Español, as Catholics work with
Protestants, as Baby Boomers work alongside Millennials, as sinners serve right alongside saints (and
they all discover they’re really not that different). Why can’t we all just get
along if we put ourselves and our self-made labels last and put each other
first? Why can’t we all just
get along if we’d just listen to Jesus and follow his example? What’s keeping
us from doing that? What’s keeping you from doing that? Amen.
[1]
You can find this story in countless sermon illustration sources, though there
is no real, historical source for it.
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