Unity is Never an Abstraction

Philippians 4:2-3

We have been building the altar of the church, laying down the landing pad for the helicopter of the Spirit. And we have said that a strategy for building the regional altar in preparation for a move of God is a shared rhythm of united, extraordinary prayer. But there is other work required to build the altar and it is the work of reconciliation.

Jesus prayed that we would be one. Our unity is a sign to the world. And here in Philippians it is more than that: our contending as one for the faith of the gospel is a sign to the Enemy that he will be destroyed, and a sign to us that we will be saved.

But watch what happens at the end of Paul’s letter to the Philippians. All through chapter one Paul pleads for unity in what sounds like abstract terms, striving side by side, one spirit, one mind. Then we reach chapter four and discover that as he wrote those words, he likely had two faces in view. Two names. Euodia and Syntyche.

Their names are almost too fitting. Euodia, "good road," a beautiful journey. Syntyche, "pleasant company." And these two, Good-Journey and Good-Company, cannot get along. Both are Paul's co-laborers. The Philippian church began with Lydia and was rich with faithful women of real stature, and some suppose these two hosted house churches in the city. Their falling-out was serious enough, their standing weighty enough, that Paul is willing to name it out loud, in a letter to be read to everyone. He does not scold them. He pleads with them, in the Lord.

Friends, our unity can never be an abstraction. The church is full of good men and women doing good work, fellow workers all, and yet, because we are fallen and imperfect, because we carry personalities and egos and long memories, we come into conflict. And too often, rather than talk it through, rather than seek each other out and work it through, we simply pull apart. We tell ourselves it isn't worth the conversation. I'll just steer clear of that fellow. Or we take our football and go home, and do our own thing.

We speak of building a regional altar. Hear, then, what Jesus does with that very word: if you are at the altar and remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there, go, be reconciled, and then come and offer it.

I think of a pastor here in Providence, a mentor of mine, who remembers a movement of unity years ago, gatherings of pastors on the top floor of the Biltmore, a sense that we stood on the cusp of something. And then it was over. Not busyness, he suspected. Some conflict of personalities, some butting of heads, Euodia and Syntyche style. Two coworkers who could not come to agreement, who went their separate ways, and the whole body was the poorer for it.

I am not pretending every quarrel gets settled this side of heaven. But Ephesians tells us to make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit, and this too is altar work. As David Thomas has said, he could wish that revival did not rest on the caliber and load-bearing strength of the relationships in the body, that it were simply up to him. But revival in a regional church is a corporate thing, and God means to test the strength of our bonds. So does the Enemy. If he can sow dissension among pastors and leaders, and coax the body into quiet retreat, into siloing, into atomization, he has won without firing a shot.

So let us keep short accounts. It is hard, after all, to pray shoulder to shoulder with a man you are avoiding in the parking lot.

Rev. Greg Johnson
Director, Revive New England