One Kingdom, One Body
When Kingdom Unity Is Challenged by Tribal Identity
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Christians have always had differences.
We differ in how we worship, how churches should be governed, how baptism should be understood, how the gifts of the Holy Spirit operate, how prophecy should be approached, and on many other questions of doctrine and practice.
Some of these differences matter. Truth matters. Scripture matters. There are beliefs so central to the Christian faith that abandoning them means abandoning the gospel itself.
Something is wrong when Christians who confess the same Lord begin to behave as though Kingdom work belongs to our particular tribe.
Over years of involvement in Christian ministries, I have seen this take some strange forms. A church can become concerned that another Christian ministry might speak to “its people” about support or giving, as though generosity to one part of Christ’s body necessarily competes with generosity to another.
Collaboration can cool because another church is considered “too Pentecostal”, “too charismatic”, or simply not enough like us. Faithful Christian leaders can acquire quiet internal labels because their understanding or expression of the gifts sits outside the comfort zone of their own church culture. Funding and support can sometimes be influenced less by the work being done than by whether the ministry carries the right denominational pedigree.
Usually none of this is announced openly. It appears more subtly: distance, hesitation, gatekeeping, a reluctance to collaborate, or the occasional comment that leaves you wondering where that came from.
Sometimes caution is warranted. Definitely doctrine matters as does stewardship. Leadership has a responsibility to discern what it endorses and who it partners with. This paper is not an argument for theological vagueness, nor for unity at any cost. But there is another possibility we should be willing to examine: are we always protecting truth, or are we sometimes protecting secondary beliefs or territory?
I first saw the value of getting beyond specific church ownership through a community youth ministry. It had begun closely associated with one church. When that relationship ended, it initially looked like a loss. In hindsight, it was one of the best things that could have happened. Freed from the perception that it belonged to one church, the ministry became genuinely owned by the wider community. Churches, businesses, funders, families and community leaders could all understand the same why: young people in trouble were being helped to turn their lives around, and the whole community benefited. The work became bigger than the tribe that had first carried it.
That experience left a mark on my thinking. The Kingdom is bigger than any one church, denomination, ministry, funding stream or preferred style of worship. We are not all called to do the same thing, and we do not all need to look the same. But where the gospel itself is not in dispute, we should be asking what we can faithfully do together rather than instinctively searching for the reason we must remain apart.
The core confession is not obscure. Jesus Christ is the Son of God; born of a virgin; truly human; crucified for our sins; raised from the dead; exalted at the right hand of the Father; Lord and Saviour. Where churches and ministries stand together on the historic gospel, differences over worship style, church culture, or the continuation and expression of spiritual gifts belong in a different category.
Grace and truth must remain together. Truth without grace can become harsh and tribal. Grace without truth can become vague and unfaithful. But grace and truth together allow us to hold conviction without treating every secondary disagreement as a reason for separation.
So the question behind this paper is not, “Why are those people so difficult?” It is a question for all of us, myself included: Have our traditions, preferences and institutional loyalties sometimes become lenses through which we decide which parts of Christ’s body we are willing to recognise, fellowship with, collaborate with, or work alongside for Kingdom outcomes?
This is not a new problem. Across two thousand years of Christian history, some of the Church’s most significant voices have returned repeatedly to the same concern. And the proper place to begin is not with Augustine, Spurgeon, Lewis or any other theologian. It is with Jesus Christ Himself.
Jesus “That All of Them May Be One”
On the night before His crucifixion, Jesus prayed for His disciples. But remarkably, He made clear that His prayer extended far beyond those gathered around Him: “My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message.” John 17:20
That includes the generations of believers who followed them, including us. And what did Jesus pray? “That all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me.” John 17:21
Christian unity therefore cannot simply be dismissed as an aspiration. It was something Jesus Himself prayed for. And He connected the visible unity of His followers with the credibility of their witness before the world.
This does not mean Christians must agree about everything. Nor does it mean truth should be sacrificed for organisational unity. But it should cause us to take division seriously. Before asking whether another Christian tradition is sufficiently like ours, perhaps we should first ask: What kind of unity was Jesus praying would exist among those who belong to Him?
Paul “Is Christ Divided?”
Only a generation later, the apostle Paul confronted this problem in Corinth. Different groups within the church were beginning to identify themselves around different Christian leaders: “One of you says, ‘I follow Paul’; another, ‘I follow Apollos’; another, ‘I follow Cephas’; still another, ‘I follow Christ.’” 1 Corinthians 1:12
Paul’s response is confronting in its simplicity: “Is Christ divided?” 1 Corinthians 1:13
Paul does not say that Paul, Apollos and Peter were identical. They were different men, with different personalities, ministries and emphases. Paul was still Paul, Apollos remained Apollos and Peter remained Peter, but none of these men was the centre. Christ was and is.
Paul returns to the subject in chapter 3: “What, after all, is Apollos? And what is Paul? Only servants, through whom you came to believe … I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow.” 1 Corinthians 3:5–7
Then Paul reaches his conclusion: “No more boasting about human leaders, you are of Christ, and Christ is of God.” 1 Corinthians 3:21–23
The names have changed, but perhaps the temptation has not. “I am Brethren.” “I am Baptist.” “I am Pentecostal.” “I am Reformed.” “I am charismatic.” Or, more subtly, “We aren’t really like those Christians.”
Traditions are not inherently wrong. Theological convictions matter. Differences can be real and important. But they become dangerous when a secondary identity begins to compete with our primary identity: we belong to Christ. Paul reinforces this later in the same letter when discussing spiritual gifts themselves: “Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.” 1 Corinthians 12:27
That metaphor is to be taken seriously. One member of the body may function differently from another. Diversity is necessary to the body’s health. But the eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you.”
This becomes particularly relevant where Christians differ over the gifts and activity of the Holy Spirit. One church tradition may speak frequently about Christ and Scripture. Another may speak more readily about the person and activity of the Holy Spirit. Yet these cannot properly become rival loyalties. “He will glorify me.”
John 16:14. “No one can say, “Jesus is Lord,” except by the Holy Spirit.” 1 Corinthians 12:3
A genuinely Christ-centred church should not be suspicious of the Holy Spirit. And a genuinely Spirit-filled church should increasingly glorify Christ. The question therefore becomes not whether differences exist, but whether those differences are sufficient to justify distancing ourselves from other members of Christ’s body.
Augustine “When Division Wounds Charity”
More than three centuries later, Augustine wrestled deeply with division within the Church, particularly through his conflict with the Donatist movement in North Africa.
Augustine did not regard doctrine as unimportant. He distinguished between heresy, which corrupts the faith, and schism, which tears apart Christians who ought to remain united. That distinction remains useful. Not every disagreement is another gospel. Not every difference is grounds for separation. “Whoever forsakes unity, violates charity; and whosoever violates charity, how great gifts soever he have, he is nothing.”
Augustine drew directly upon 1 Corinthians 13. A Christian may possess extraordinary gifts, knowledge and faith, but without love those gifts become nothing.
His challenge therefore goes beyond, “Can’t Christians simply get along?” His argument is theological. Christ is one. His body is one. Therefore division within that body is not merely an organisational inconvenience. It raises questions about Christian charity itself.
This gives us a harder question to ask: not simply, “Is this difference important?” but, “Is this difference important enough to justify injuring the unity of Christ’s body?” That is a much higher threshold.
Charles Spurgeon “A Thousand Differences, Yet One in Christ”
Centuries later, Charles Spurgeon approached the question with characteristic directness. Spurgeon was hardly indifferent to doctrine. He was an unapologetic Baptist and was quite prepared to contend strongly for theological convictions.
Yet in his 1866 sermon “Unity in Christ” he said: “Never mind about a thousand differences if thou art in Christ and I am in Christ, we cannot be two, we must be one.” And then he immediately made that unity practical: “Let us aid each other as far as possible in every holy, spiritual enterprise, which is for the promotion of the kingdom of the Lord.”
That second sentence deserves attention. Spurgeon was not merely calling Christians to feel warmly towards one another. He expected unity to result in cooperation. Different convictions could remain. But where Christians genuinely shared Christ, those differences should not automatically prevent them from working together for His Kingdom.
Spurgeon also rejected the idea that unity required institutional sameness. The unity Jesus prayed for was deeper than that, a spiritual unity among those who had been brought into Christ. His position might therefore be summarised: conviction without compromise; difference without unnecessary division; and cooperation wherever Christians can faithfully serve the Kingdom together.
C. S. Lewis “Different Rooms, One House”
C. S. Lewis approached the question from another direction. Mere Christianity was deliberately concerned with the common Christian faith lying beneath denominational divisions. Lewis was not suggesting that denominations or theological differences were meaningless.
His famous illustration was a house. “Mere Christianity” was like a hall from which doors opened into different rooms. Christians would eventually live within particular rooms, traditions and communities where fuller doctrinal questions were worked out. But the rooms remained part of one house.
Lewis therefore neither erased differences nor allowed them to become the definition of Christianity itself.
His perspective challenges the tendency to make our particular room feel like the whole house. We may sincerely believe our understanding is correct. We may prefer the way our church worships. We may have serious theological reasons for belonging where we belong. But another question remains: Can we recognise genuine brothers and sisters in Christ who occupy another room?
And if we can recognise them as members of the same household, what should that recognition mean in practice?
John Stott “Unity in Truth, Fellowship, Work and Witness”
John Stott provides perhaps the clearest balance between two dangers: unity at the expense of truth, and division over secondary matters.
In his exposition of the Lausanne Covenant, Stott emphasised that Christian unity is not something the Church invents. In one sense it already exists because believers have been united in Christ. But that invisible spiritual reality should become visible. “The church’s visible unity in truth is God’s purpose.”
Notice both words: unity and truth. This is not unity produced by pretending theological differences do not matter. But neither is truth an excuse for needless separation. “Yet we who share the same biblical faith should be closely united in fellowship, work and witness.” “Our oneness strengthens our witness, just as our disunity undermines our gospel of reconciliation.”
That may be one of the clearest formulations for our present question: unity in truth, expressed through fellowship, work and witness.
A Brethren church does not need to become Pentecostal. A Pentecostal church does not need to become Brethren. A Baptist does not need to become Anglican. Christians can disagree, sometimes strongly, about spiritual gifts, church government, baptism, worship and other secondary questions.
But where we genuinely share the biblical gospel, Stott asks us to consider whether the natural outcome should not be fellowship, cooperation and common witness. Not organisational uniformity. Not theological vagueness. But visible Christian partnership.
Martin Luther King Jr “When Our Behaviour Contradicts Our Confession”
Martin Luther King Jr broadens the lens. His immediate concern was racial segregation, not denominational disagreements, and that distinction should be maintained. But the theological contradiction he identified has much wider implications.
In his sermon “Paul’s Letter to American Christians,” King imagined the apostle Paul speaking to the American Church. He said that although Christians differed in “creedal systems” and “doctrinal forms”: “There is a unity that makes us all one.”
King then confronted the segregated Church: “How can such a division exist in the true body of Christ?”
King’s immediate application concerned race, and we should not pretend otherwise. But underneath his argument lies an important Christian principle: What happens when the behaviour of the Church contradicts the unity it proclaims? We preach reconciliation. We proclaim one Lord. We say that believers are brothers and sisters. We speak of one body. But what does the watching world see?
King therefore brings us back remarkably close to Jesus’ prayer: “that all of them may be one … so that the world may believe.” Christian disunity is not merely unfortunate internally. It can undermine the credibility of the gospel we proclaim.
So Where Should We Draw the Line?
None of these voices argues that truth should be sacrificed for unity. Jesus prayed for His followers to be sanctified by truth. Paul condemned another gospel. Augustine distinguished heresy from schism. Spurgeon vigorously defended doctrine. Lewis did not pretend all Christian traditions taught identical things. Stott explicitly insisted upon unity in truth.
So the conclusion cannot simply be: doctrine doesn’t matter. It does. There are truths worth standing for, and there are circumstances where partnership would compromise the gospel. But the opposite error deserves equally serious examination: not every disagreement is a gospel issue. And perhaps Christians have sometimes become remarkably skilled at turning secondary differences into reasons for distance.
We can almost instinctively look for the qualification: “Yes, they are Christians, but …” They are too charismatic. Too conservative. Too Pentecostal. Too traditional. Too Reformed. Too emotional. Too restrained. Too different from us.
There may be some times when there are legitimate concerns behind those observations. But we should be careful. Theology can sometimes become respectable language for something more human: familiarity, culture, history, fear of excess, institutional loyalty, personal preference, or simply, “They are not really our kind of Christians.”
Perhaps before examining another Christian tradition, we should also allow Scripture to examine us. Has our particular room become more important to us than the house? Has our denomination become more visible than Christ? Have preferences become principles? Have secondary doctrines quietly become tests of fellowship that Scripture itself does not make tests of fellowship?
And have those distinctions begun preventing us from doing together what we could faithfully do for the Kingdom of God?
What Might Kingdom-First Collaboration Look Like?
It does not mean every church joins every initiative. It does not mean every ministry shares a platform, a budget or a theology. But it does mean that we begin with a different instinct.
Where there is a shared gospel and a genuinely Kingdom purpose, we ask: What can we do together? Can we serve young people in our community together? Feed families that need support together? Support missionaries together? Reach a city together? Pray together? Share expertise, volunteers, facilities, relationships or resources without needing to own the outcome?
The Church is at its best when the community sees not competing Christian brands, but the body of Christ bringing hope, truth, mercy and practical love into places of need. Different parts can make different contributions. They do not need to become identical. But they should be able to recognise one another and, where conscience allows, labour side by side.
That kind of visible unity does more for Christianity than make ministry efficient. It says something true about Jesus.
Is Christ Divided?
Jesus: That they may all be one, so that the world may believe.
Paul: Is Christ divided?
Augustine: Schism wounds Christian charity and the unity of Christ’s body.
Spurgeon: A thousand differences need not prevent believers in Christ from helping one another in Kingdom work.
Lewis: We may occupy different rooms, but we belong to one house.
Stott: Unity in truth should become visible in fellowship, work and witness.
King: When Christians proclaim unity but practise separation, our behaviour can contradict the gospel we profess.
None of this requires uniformity. None of it asks us to abandon conviction. Perhaps it asks something harder: to hold our convictions firmly while holding our brothers and sisters in Christ lovingly.
And when the opportunity comes to work together for the Kingdom, perhaps our first instinct should not be to search for the difference that keeps us apart. Perhaps we should first recognise the One who has already brought us together.
For ultimately the Church does not belong to Paul. It does not belong to Peter. It does not belong to Augustine, Spurgeon, Lewis, Stott or King. It does not belong to the Brethren, the Pentecostals, the Baptists, the Anglicans or any other Christian tradition.
We are of Christ.
Is Christ divided?
Sources and Further Reading
The Holy Bible:
John 16:14; John 17:20–23; 1 Corinthians 1:10–13; 3:4–7, 21–23; 12:3, 12–27; Galatians 1:6–9.
Augustine:
Anti-Donatist writings, especially Tractates on the Gospel of John and writings on unity, charity and schism.
Charles H. Spurgeon:
“Unity in Christ” (1866) and related sermons on Christian fellowship and cooperation.
C. S. Lewis:
Mere Christianity, Preface — the image of the hall and rooms.
John Stott / Lausanne Movement:
The Lausanne Covenant and Stott’s exposition of Christian unity in truth, fellowship, work and witness.
Martin Luther King Jr:
“Paul’s Letter to American Christians” — King Institute, Stanford University.