The Beauty in Shared Mission
“Wait, you’re telling me there is only one church we can attend in the whole country? I mean, like the whole entire country?” I’ve never been one to dance around a topic.
“Of course not,” the new acquaintance and much more experienced missionary told me. “There are many gospel-centered churches here, but this is the only one with services in English.”
That made sense given we had just moved to a Spanish-speaking country in Central America. But, in any circumstance, the thought of being boxed in tends to prompt my fight or flight response. So I wasn’t super excited about this church being our only option. Aside from jumping in a time machine to go back and switch my foreign language classes from French to Spanish, I had no other options.
This was a problem because I, like so many of us, love options. (Have you seen how many flavors of Oreos there are?) Understanding potential alternatives helps me identify and feel confident in my choices. However, I’ve noticed a potential side effect to my search for the best path: a tendency to focus solely on the differences between the options and completely miss the connections. With Oreos this might be okay, but with people, not so much.
“The New Testament is filled with instructions for us to seek, maintain, and dwell in unity with other believers.”
The more I study Scripture, the more I am convinced of the danger in this type of thinking. The New Testament, in particular, is filled with instructions for us to seek, maintain, and dwell in unity with other believers (e.g., Rom. 15:5–6, 1 Cor. 1:10; 2 Cor. 13:11; Gal. 3:28; Eph. 4; Phil. 2:1–3). In describing the early church, the writer of Acts says, “Now the full number of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one said that any of the things that belonged to him was his own, but that they had everything in common” (Acts 4:32). Of course we know people must have had their own possessions before they came together. But they set aside their claim to their differences and chose to focus on what connected them. I wonder if prioritizing what connects me with other Christ-followers is actually the best path to unity?
I had an experience as a teenager that proved foundational to my desire for the right kind of ecumenism—unity in the Christian church. My dad’s family was Polish Catholic, which meant we all attended mass on Sunday regardless of whether we might have woken up with a scratchy throat or spent the night at a friend’s house and stayed up too late. The summer between middle and high school I attended a camp where I was introduced to Jesus in a way I hadn’t yet experienced in my home parish. Perhaps this tapped into my ever-present desire to explore all the options, or maybe I just found myself at a prime age to rebel against the church of my parents. But when a friend invited me to her Protestant church’s youth group, I agreed. And that is how, a few months later, I found myself in a big church van headed to Washington DC on an “exploration of faith” trip.
Over the weekend, we visited a Jewish synagogue, a Buddhist temple, a Greek Orthodox church, and a Catholic cathedral. My teenage brain was a bit overwhelmed by the contrasts among them, especially given I didn’t understand the languages spoken in many of the services. Decades later, my adult brain is still fascinated with the similarities shared, the most prominent being that in each practice I met people who shared a deep devotion to the mission of their faith.
When I eventually placed my faith in Jesus, it was born from an equal depth of conviction around a shared belief. Since then, I’ve studied organizational leadership both inside and outside of church settings. I’ve seen how crucial shared mission and vision is for unity, regardless of whether people come together around a church building, an executive boardroom, a community playground, or a family kitchen.
As Peter Senge wrote in The Fifth Discipline: The Art and Practice of the Learning Organization, “Few, if any, forces in human affairs are as powerful as shared vision.” We’re given a great example of this power in Paul’s famous speech to the people of Athens. Ministering in a city filled with religious idols, Paul made a decision to begin his testimony not by condemning their differences, but rather highlighting a point of connection, saying, “I perceive that in every way you are very religious” (Acts 17:22). Paul goes on to speak about how they are seeking to worship the same God, but he helps them understand the one they refer to as the “Unknown God”—the One True God—can in fact be known.
Paul’s acceptance of others’ differences was an acknowledgement of their personhood, their value and dignity as image bearers, without assenting to their particular religious beliefs. For we know that the Hellenistic Greek or the Buddhist worshipper does not share with a follower of Jesus the core tenet of our faith: salvation through Christ alone.
We can be sure Paul knew the religious convictions of those in Athens did not have the power to save, no matter how sincere their beliefs. To avoid any confusion, he later clarified this distinction in 2 Corinthians 6:14–16 (NLT):
Don’t team up with those who are unbelievers. How can righteousness be a partner with wickedness? How can light live with darkness? What harmony can there be between Christ and the devil? How can a believer be a partner with an unbeliever? And what union can there by between God’s temple and idols? For we are the temple of the living God. As God said: “I will live in them and walk among them. I will be their God, and they will be my people.”
Yet, for the sake of evangelism, Paul sought to relate to these unbelievers from a platform of connection rather than one of contention. If Paul goes to such great lengths to establish shared understandings with unbelievers, how much more should the body of Christ pursue harmony with one another? It should be a matter of utmost importance to us. This all crystalized in my mind after our family relocated outside of the United States in 2012. We’d only been there a few days when I realized our limited options for a church home.
“If Paul goes to such great lengths to establish shared understandings with unbelievers, how much more should the body of Christ pursue harmony with one another? ”
As we’d come to learn, the one church offering services in English was distinctly ecumenical. There were people present from six of the seven world continents, far more Christian denominations than I’d even heard of, speaking at least a dozen languages. We were surprised when various practices from those denominations made their way into the service from week to week. There was no formal teaching team. Instead, missionaries representing all those continents, denominations, and languages took turns leading. One week, for example, we might hear from a New Zealand Baptist, the next a Canadian Episcopalian.
When I decided to address one such denominational distinction on an otherwise typical Sunday morning—with a Presbyterian leader from the US—he very gently replied, “Our goal is not to major in the minors, but rather to point people to Jesus and teach them to rely on him. Beyond that, we trust Jesus to work out the details.”
Huh, I thought. That’s different.
My thoughts wrestled with one another as I tried to come to grips with what that meant. “So you’re okay with ________ even though your faith tradition doesn’t do that?” I couldn’t resist the follow-up question.
“I am,” he replied, “because of our shared vision . . . under Christ’s leadership,” referencing Jesus’s own prayer shortly before he was killed.
I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given to them, that they may be one even as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become perfectly one, so that the world may know that you sent me and loved them even as you loved me. (John 17:20–23)
Over the two and a half years we attended that church, I got a front-row seat to see this in action. So many of the participants had left their passport countries—and much more—to fulfill the Great Commission, which is, itself, a distinctly unifying experience. Beyond that, we rallied around the knowledge that our impact is best achieved when we become one, as Jesus prayed, so others might know by whom we’re sent and why we love them.
It was a privilege to work alongside a seemingly disparate group of Christians, partnered through our shared vision of salvation in Jesus. I learned the importance of intentionally seeking and understanding what connects us as Christ-followers, instead of prioritizing what the enemy might use to divide us.
This means we spent a lot of time focusing on the foundational, uniting tenets of the Christian faith, as espoused in the Apostles’ Creed:
I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth.
I believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit and born of the virgin Mary. He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried; he descended to hell. The third day he rose again from the dead. He ascended to heaven and is seated at the right hand of God the Father almighty. From there he will come to judge the living and the dead.
I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic church [meaning the universal church], the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting. Amen.
Sure, it could get messy—as you might expect when asking so many different people to grow together—like every other church I’ve attended. But I found a distinct beauty in a mess set on such a solid foundation. My adolescent trip to DC and later leadership training offered glimpses of the power of shared mission. But my lived experiences in Central America gave me proof of not only the power but also the sheer beauty of unity in Christ.
In a world where divisions seem to reign supreme, it’s worth noting that the places—religious, political, business, or otherwise—in which we see the most success are often where unity is central. And within the church, specifically where we are united by merit of the blood of Christ and affirmation of the Apostles’ Creed, for example, this is very good news.
Wendy Willard has spent the past two decades deep in the trenches of child welfare, initially as a mom to two daughters, then also as a foster parent and adoption advocate across three US states and Nicaragua. Through writing, conversations, and service, she passionately pursues ways the Church can best care for the least of these. Follow her at gracefullyslathy.com.