What (or Who) makes for Christian unity?

Reflections from John’s Gospel

What makes for Christian unity? It is my contention here that it is allegiance to lesser gods—including ourselves—that is at the heart of our divisions; therefore, the remedy is being de-centered by and oriented toward Jesus. This is the message of John’s Gospel. There are a thousand issues over which to divide or around which to rally, but there is only one that produces Christian unity.

We often move on to more “practical” attempts at unity only because “Jesus” becomes a caricature, standing in for our deeper allegiances. We have not gazed long enough at him. So, I fear we continue to proliferate division by panicking about the thousand things, and in the process, neglect the one thing that is needful.

The nature of division

First, we need to think about division from John’s perspective. At one level, Christians divide over doctrine, practice, polity and preferences. Yet, what appear to be divisions over content can often mask deeper sources of division in our intellectual commitments, political convictions, family allegiances, social class, education, or personality. When I attach my sense of self to any such things (good though they are), then I invariably feel attacked personally when they are threatened.

Consider the religious leaders in John’s Gospel: When the blind man raises some valid points in defence of Jesus, they shoot back, “We are disciples of Moses … you were steeped in sin at birth; how dare you lecture us!” (9:28, 34). This is not a mere doctrinal dispute. Egos are at stake!

Furthermore, the ostensible ‘reason’ for any division is frequently elevated as more centrally defining. We tend to define ourselves, not based on what we are for, or whose we are, but with reference to what we are against. Now, in our hyper-individualistic Western culture which places my self or my experience at the centre of reality, division is even more reflexive. The common root of all such division is allegiance to lesser gods – especially my self. Even well-meaning people like Nicodemus hang back and hedge their bets because “they loved human praise more than praise from God” (12:42).

Jesus divides

Paradoxically, the unity to which Jesus calls us requires one great Division to end all divisions. In John’s Gospel, Jesus creates division between “the world” and those who along with him are “not of the world” (17:16). This division creates the possibility of Christian unity because it is “the world” that creates division. In John, “the world” is the arrogance by which we construct alternative realities independent of the God who created all things. We make lesser gods or ourselves the source of our life and identity.

Now, being “of the world” is extraordinarily subtle. In John’s Gospel, its primary representatives are Israel’s pastor-theologians. For instance, they identify Jesus as a threat because his actions may result in a loss of their own power and influence: “the Romans will come and take away both our temple and our nation” (11:48). Here, we catch a glimpse of the deeper allegiance which is fully disclosed when they declare: “We have no king but Caesar!” (19:15). What a shocking admission by those called to lead people to God.

So today, how easy it is to co-opt the ‘currency’ of religion (even of Jesus) to legitimate my tribe, garner my own applause, or pad my own pocket. Likewise, whole churches can become hostage to “the world” by giving their allegiance to the lesser gods of national identity, the cult of celebrity, or the god Mammon that drives budgetary decisions. A church or denomination may become so allied with the world that it is merely a husk. The seed has long gone.

By contrast, Jesus’ followers “hate their life in this world” (12:25), meaning they are untethered from various lesser gods. It is only when we fall into the ground like a grain of wheat and die that we find ourselves both where Jesus is and consequently amidst a community of germinating seeds. Unless this happens, that grain of wheat “remains only a single seed” (12:24). In other words, it is only on the other side of death to self that the fruit of Christian unity is possible. Christian unity can only flourish where this kind of pruning is normative.

Christian unity

Christian unity does not mean merely a group of unified people who happen to be Christians. People forge unions by rallying around nationalism, or under charismatic leaders, or in opposition to common enemies or ideologies. Although Christians have historically found common cause in such ways, there is nothing particularly Christian about it.

Christian unity does not mean merely a group of unified people who happen to be Christians. ... In John 17, Jesus declares that Christian unity derives from our union with a particular God.

In John 17, Jesus declares that Christian unity derives from our union with a particular God: “that they may be one as we are one” (v. 22; emphasis added). He also states it this way: “may they also be in us … I in them and you in me” (vv. 21, 23). This indicates that the unity envisioned here is first a vertical one, and only consequently horizontal. I wish to highlight three intertwined threads of our union with this particular God that ground and generate Christian unity.

1. Confession

When Jesus prays, “that they may be one as we are one,” he means that Christian unity is tied to the conviction that God is seen and known in Jesus. The name of this one God, which we bear as his representatives, is the character and action of the God known in Jesus.

Thomas articulates this conviction when he sees the scars of the risen Jesus, and declares, “my Lord and my God” (20:28). Consequently, it is central to Christianity to declare of the one who was crucified, “that is God.” The Jesus of the Gospels defines what is meant by “God.” To tamper with such confessional truth is to condemn ourselves to the echo chamber of our own whims. And it is a terrifying prospect to achieve “unity,” only to find yourself at the top of the tower of Babel.

Our union with God grows out of the rapturous, fountainous love by which God created all things, and by which he propels himself toward a hostile humanity.

2. Identity

Jesus prayed that we would be in the Father and Son and conversely that the Father, in the Son, would be in us (17:21–23). Our identity is our relational identity in God. This is the kind of identity Jesus had, whose authority, teaching, mission, and life all derived from the Father. Because of this, Jesus did not have a weakness for selling out to those who applauded him (see 2:23–25; 5:41; 6:15). Rather, he was free to love others truly—because he knew “that he had come from God and was returning to God, he got up … and began to wash his disciples’ feet” (13:3–5).

In chapter 17, he prays that our identity would, like his, be bound up in our relation with God, and that we be not “of this world.” Now, this identity does not efface other aspects of what makes me me. But it relativizes them and works constantly to prune the “world” from them. Consequently, I no longer need to depend on them to bear the weight of my being, or to strive to create and sustain my own self-importance. It is only when I am freed from the world that I, paradoxically, can be for the world.

Perhaps you resent “Phil” because he was dismissive of you and is now for you a constant reminder that you are not lovely or worthwhile. If, however, you “abide” in the love of Jesus, and imagine the universe with Jesus at the centre and not Phil’s opinion of you, then the pain he caused begins to lose its hold; the desire to avoid him or to find another church free of him diminishes; and beauty and reconciliation can be imagined.

3. Cross-shaped love

This leads to the third thread of our union with God: self-giving, cross-shaped (“cruciform”) love. Our union with God grows out of the rapturous, fountainous love by which God created all things, and by which he propels himself toward a hostile humanity. Jesus rehearses this in his prayer: “then the world will know that you sent me and have loved [my followers] even as you have loved me” (17:23).

This is also the source of the sole primary command in the Gospel: “love one another as I have loved you” (13:34). Jesus puts this another way when he declares his followers will be where he is (12:24–26). And where is he? He is the seed fallen into the ground, pouring out his life for the life of the world.

So, even here, Jesus orients us not first to each other, but to where and who he is. Indeed “unity” is not itself the goal; it is the fruit of this particular Vine. Thus, Christian unity results when the cross becomes our own way of being with each other because we no longer use each other as raw material for our own kingdoms.

Cruciformity injects lubricant into the fractious dysfunction of our relationships, constantly drained by the wearing effects of selfishness and pride and fear. In Jesus, we are free from each other to be truly for each other. This is how we can “love one another” as he loved us. And this is why those who say they love God and yet fail to love their brothers are murderers (1 John 3:15) and liars (1 John 4:20)—the same charges Jesus levelled against his worldly, devilish opponents in John 8.

A church united with Jesus will stand in solidarity with those who sin and betray and divide (while of course not embracing sin, betrayal, and division).

Now, this is deeply impractical. It means that we are most Christian when we are washing the feet of our enemies (like Judas) in the open, and least so when we are plotting for pieces of silver behind closed doors. A church united with Jesus will stand in solidarity with those who sin and betray and divide (while of course not embracing sin, betrayal, and division). Nevertheless, it is likely that the conditions that result are precisely what we need to become truly Christian.

Conclusion

When Christian confession is intertwined with a renewed identity in God that facilitates a cross-shaped posture with others, Christian unity becomes possible. Where there is disunity between believers or churches, the counsel of John’s Gospel is to preach Jesus. Preach Jesus in all his exclusive divisiveness, his cruciform beauty, his all-encompassing commands, his inexhaustible, scandalous compassion.

The recent fallout within churches over COVID-19 restrictions may illustrate the point: It is difficult to confess and worship one who “did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but … emptied himself” (Philippians 2:5–6 MEV) while at the same time maintain that personal political freedom is of the utmost importance. Conversely, believers who were paralyzed by fear of the biological effects of the virus to the point of demonizing more “careless” neighbours had forgotten that their Lord conquered death and calls us not to cling to our “lives in this world.” Both extremes of this divisive issue are addressed by a summons to confess and follow the real Jesus we encounter in John.

Of course genuine disagreement on secondary matters may remain; and there are occasions when the gospel of Jesus himself is at stake and division is necessary. John himself had seen a group leave the church because they had abandoned the Jesus of the Gospels (1 John 2:19). Nevertheless, the friction that occurs because we are driven by identities in and allegiances to “the world” has no place among the people of Jesus. Most divisions arise for such reasons and are therefore tragic. When we need to be “right” or regarded well, we are far less free to say, “I was wrong,” or indeed to speak difficult truth to each other.

But those freed from the world are humble, willing to listen, while at the same time resistant to the deception and allure of the world. Church leaders play an important role here in fostering healing and unity between individuals insofar as they point people relentlessly to Jesus, and as they themselves model a cruciform posture in their own interpersonal relationships in the church, rather than viewing their parishioners as the raw materials out of which to construct pedestals for their own greatness. And churches should be places in which there is not less but more capacity and space for disagreement within the confines of the gospel of Jesus—precisely because we have embraced the difficult path of suffering, and are practicing the humble listening and truth-telling that results from being freed from the world.

This fractured world is desperate for some Power that can overcome the devastating effects of prideful independence, alienation, and hostility. The Christian confession is that there is only One who exhibits this kind of power. It is essential to our confessing him that we join him in the place where he is: the grain fallen into the ground yet embedded in the life of God. Only there will we participate in his life-giving witness to the world: “I in them and you in me—so that they may be brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me” (17:23).