Meditations from Zion

Unity, like love, requires consciousness and choice. We will never always agree. Like the old cliche of “pick your battles” with one’s kids, the same is true for the body of Christ. Not every disagreement requires the drawing up of sides and the raising of battle flags. I suppose a better word for unity is compromise or even love.

I Corinthians 1:10b
. . . that there be no dissensions or factions or divisions among you, but that you be perfectly united in your common understanding and in your opinions and judgments.

I would say my closest friend is Kathy. We have known each other almost 40 years (age hint). Historically, I have been the conservative one and she the more liberal one. We don’t agree on everything by a long shot, but we know each other and we trust each other and as a result, we respect each other. And so, yes, we are in unity. We don’t live close by and we don’t talk every day, but when we do connect, it’s meaningful. We share deeply and we share honestly. When we disagree, we speak it, but we know that no disagreement is powerful enough to divide our hearts. We anticipate growing old together, 21st century Golden Girls.

But every relationship is not so easy. There are people who have put me under the microscope and nothing I say or do seems right to them. I am suspect and therefore, I am a challenge. There are people, I’m sorry to say, to whom I have done the same thing. My expectation is that they will behave badly and when they do, I am not surprised. Who knows if they behave well, I’m not looking for that. In neither of these cases is unity possible. Even though there is no outright hostility and on the surface everything seems fine, the inner turmoil is fraught with misery.

We will never be all the same. It’s not the way our creative God works. Everything in nature is about uniqueness. It is putting uniqueness together that makes a new “whole.” We each bring our special something to the table.

I can remember when Mike and I used to attend pitch-in suppers at our old church in Atlanta. Most of the cooks brought fried chicken, southern-style green beans, cole slaw, and mashed potatoes. I brought hummus and tabouli. I don’t need to tell you what was barely touched. It’s not that it wasn’t good, but it was outside the box for a church supper, at least back then. Most people wouldn’t even try it.

Each person’s personality has a little tabouli or baba ghanoush in it. Unity comes from tasting … trying … accepting … loving.