From the Cucumber to the Cross
All creation groans with the pains of childbirth, so the Apostle Paul tells us in his epistle to the Roman church. This is a fact that I believe every living person not only knows, but feels deeply. Something about this world just isn’t quite right; there is a tension in the air and an aching in our bones. And contrary to Rousseau and his various disciples, there is no ‘natural state’ to look back to as a means of escape, save the Garden of Eden itself. No level of striving, no commitment to reform, and no effort to shed our political and social trappings can return us to that state. The only way back is forward, through this life and into glory by way of fire. Only God can bring us back to Eden (or better), and the way is dead ahead – further up and further in.
So I believe, is the pattern of this world. Many have written on the Biblical pattern of death and rebirth, how it seems that the Creator has infused His creation with a hint of His master-plan from the beginning. As C.S. Lewis so eloquently puts it in ‘Miracles’:
Death and resurrection are what the story is about and had we but eyes to see it, this has been hinted on every page, met us, in some disguise, at every turn, and even been muttered in conversations between such minor characters (if they are minor characters) as the vegetables.
From the cucumber to the Cross, all creation gives testimony to its Creator. This pattern of death and resurrection, this ‘groaning’ can be seen most fully for our purposes in two primary manifestations: the Passion and Resurrection of the Messiah, and His ongoing process of “making all things new” after the original death of all things in Genesis chapter 3 (this larger “remaking” is what Paul is referring to in the Romans passage). The smaller is the focal point of the larger. Further, this pattern can be extended or modified, I think, to include events which are not strictly full deaths or defeats, but still conform to the general structure. Every good story, so we’re told by Hollywood screenwriters, has a “death” of sorts at the end of Act II. This is the lowest point in the film, and usually comes about two thirds of the way through it. It is the point at which our characters are the most haggard, beaten, and betrayed, and when things seem to appear most dire. It’s also the point just before things start to turn around. The night is darkest before the dawn, so they say.
This brings us to perhaps the darkest night in all of human history, the night of the betrayal of the Lord of all creation. Jesus, at the end of His earthly ministry, is about to be arrested, tried, tortured, and finally executed on a cross. But before Jesus and His disciples make their way to the Garden of Gethsemane where Jesus will pray that the Father would take the cup away, Jesus stops and offers a different prayer. This prayer, recounted in John chapter 17, is not one of hopelessness, defeat, or despair. Neither is it explicitly a prayer of victory, triumph, or joy. It is a petition to God the Father from Christ the Son, for His Church. Specifically, it is a prayer that this Church which would follow in the years, centuries, millenia to come would have unity. That the apostles, and all who would come to faith through their teachings from every tribe tongue and nation would have unity – not only with Christ Himself, but with each other, so that the world might believe that Christ is of God. This desire and prayer for unity in His bride is what was on the heart of the Incarnate one on the night of His betrayal. Clearly, He feels it’s important. Maybe we should, too.
Shortly after this, Christ was betrayed, beaten, mocked, hung on a cross, and buried in a tomb. We all know what happens next. The cycle that permeates all creation is made explicit by the participation of the Creator Himself.
The Bride Groans
God works over time, and in history. Take the parable of the mustard seed, or the little bit of leaven in a lump of dough, for example. Many of God’s miracles involve taking what is small and using it for something large. The Son of God, born in a stable. A few lowly fishermen, the first members of Christ’s Church. When God acts, He seems to enjoy (or is glorified) doing it through broken, sinful vessels and through secondary causes just as often as He intervenes directly. This means, things can get messy – though never outside of His sovereign plan – in a very human way. God sanctifies His Church in the same way He sanctifies its members, over time. Our own salvation is a death and rebirth, a death of the “old man” and new life in Christ. This spiritual reality is either represented or conferred through the sacrament of baptism, depending on who you ask.
The sanctification process after conversion is similar. It consists of putting sins to death and walking in our new life in Christ, cultivating virtue and spiritual discipline. And throughout this ongoing process of death and rebirth, this walking in the new life, we yearn for the day that we will be remade, the day of our glorification. We look forward to and groan inwardly for the moment we will be free of sin, free of fleshly desires, made pure and made whole.
In the same way, I believe Christ sanctifies His Church. This is what we see in centuries past: through the condemnation of heresies in the early Church, through the affirmation of councils and creeds, the Church is made more pure and comes to a greater understanding of the truth. And as she is made pure, the Bride groans for Her bridegroom, she anticipates the great day of glorification and the return of Her Husband, when the marriage is consummated and she is brought into the reception hall for the great Marriage Supper of the Lamb.
If this view of Church history as sanctification is correct, what do we make of the High-Priestly prayer in John 17? For the first millennium of Christ’s era, the Church was one – holy, apostolic, catholic. Then it was two, with the Great Schism of the 11th century. Then a half a millennium later it was three, due to the Protestant Reformation (note that I said three, not 33,000 as many secularists like to claim). The Church is clearly fractured. What then, was the prayer?
As I see it, there are three logical possibilities for Christians to choose between. Either:
- Christ’s prayer was a pipe-dream, something never to be realized in this world but simply striven for;
- “Unity” refers to something of a purely spiritual nature, not necessarily the state of being in fellowship with one another. It refers simply to a state of belonging to Christ;
- It will actually happen.
For many years I believed the second option. I am a Reformed Baptist, and given my decidedly Protestant theological framework, it was easy for me to accept that Christ is talking about a spiritual reality and not a true, earthly unity. We may not be in fellowship, but we are still “one” in Christ. After all, most Protestants would heartily accept the catholicity of many other Protestant denominations, at the very least. It simply must be an internal unity of spirit that is prayed for by our Lord, so I thought.
But I have come to believe this spiritual, invisible unity is not what Christ had in mind. After all, what is “unity” without fellowship, without true communion? Further, Christ gives an explicit reason for his desire for this unity, namely that “all the Earth would know that Christ was sent of God.” If our unity is to be a beacon of hope to the nations, a clear message of identity to a world turned against its Maker, if it’s meant to be something that testifies to the divinity of the Messiah, it must be something more than spiritual. It must be something that even the Pagans can see. If the Pagans can look at Christianity and attempt to dismiss its validity on the grounds that Christendom is fractured into “33,000 parts,” something is wrong.
Then, if the call to unity extends to today, and if it was truly meant by Christ to be had, then there is but one option available to us. Perhaps in the centuries to come, the Church will be remade. After all, death and rebirth is God’s work, and perhaps that’s what He has in store for us. Perhaps the Church that was broken shall be remade as Anduril was, and perhaps it will even happen before the Return of the King. Someday, we may look back on this fractious period as an unfortunate but necessary period in the history of the Church – maybe eventually it will be considered “early church.” And just as we groan inwardly to be free of sin, the Church, I believe, groans to be whole. The Bride hurts with a great desire for unity, and perhaps Her wish will be granted. If our unity is to be a clear message to the nations that Christ is of God, then it must happen before the ultimate glorification at Christ’s return.
The book of Revelation depicts the Church at the end of time as a Bride adorned for her husband, beautiful and without flaw. It doesn’t depict her as fractured, split, or broken. And her unity must be a true Earthly reality, not a spiritual internal one if the nations of the Earth are to look to Her to see Her Husband. If this is true, then Christian unity is in our future, hundreds or thousands of years though it may take. But not an artificial unity for the sake of appearances, but true, God-honoring unity of a flavor that only the Holy Spirit can bring about – unity around truth, around right doctrine and practice, around settled orthodoxy and doxology. That is a larger task than can be imagined.
Mere Christianity, Not Lazy Ecumenism
Now, allow me to say what this is not. This is not a call to lazy, reductive ecumenism that ignores or diminishes theological disputes and differences of tradition. If there is to be true Christian unity, it can only be had around the Truth itself, or rather, Himself. This is not a call to downplay your convictions for the sake of unity, for that wouldn’t be unity at all. The Church is meant to be the “pillar and buttress of the truth” (1 Timothy 3:15). Unity around anything but the truth creates a weak, watered down, and cowardly social club. What this calling requires, what is needed for the church to be healed is not reductive fundamentalism that glosses over differences, but true and honest dialogue had between educated, passionate, and firm Catholics, Orthodox, and Protestants. Ones who are not willing to compromise on doctrine, and who aren’t willing to change for the sake of unity, unless that unity is gathered around the truth. Agreement and fellowship can only come if minds and hearts are changed and mended. The question of which minds and hearts is one I am not qualified to answer. Maybe the answer is “all of them.” The charge I put before you is this: believe it can actually be done. Let us not hunker down within our own theological traditions and await the return of Christ, letting Him sort it all out when He arrives. Let’s engage in true, brotherly dialogue, let’s aim to understand each other, let’s aim for unity.
Christian unity, true communion and fellowship in coming centuries between these three branches is impossible without change. To give a few obvious examples, there can be no communion between the Roman and Greek church until the question of the Papacy is settled. There can be no communion between Protestants and Catholics until the question of Sola Fide is answered. And there can be no unity between Protestants and Orthodox until an agreement on the canon of scripture is reached. The list goes on, ad infinitum.
Further, what this unity will look like is conceptualized radically differently between groups. For Catholics and Orthodox Christians, a vision of unity involves the other major bodies returning to the Mother Church, to the one true and apostolic body. For Protestants like myself, future unity must involve serious doctrinal repentance on certain issues. A convinced Protestant could never seek to rejoin with the Catholic Church unless the Council of Trent is recanted, and could never seek to rejoin with the Orthodox Church unless their teaching on soteriology is changed (or permitted to vary between churches) among other things. Even more than these, the Sacramental question would have to be resolved once and for all – there can be no unity without clear agreement on what the sacraments are and what they do. This is a monumental task.
But that doesn’t mean unity is impossible. It doesn’t mean that repentance and correction can’t be had. After all, there is a right answer to each of these questions. On each of these defining doctrinal statements, either one Church has the correct answer while the others are wrong, or none of us have it quite right. But there is truth, and it can be known. I’m willing to wager that each of our Christian bodies has a few things wrong, and real unity can only come at the expense of those doctrines from each of us. By the Grace of God, perhaps we can figure out which doctrines need correction. Paul was able to get to the bottom of the Judaizer dispute, and he was even able to correct Peter for his hypocrisy of action. Athanasius was able to manage this task when it came to the deity of Christ. God willing, we might be as fortunate.
Councils may be needed, beliefs may need to be condemned, others will need to be recanted or affirmed. It will be messy, grueling and long. But there are right answers to each of these questions, whatever they are. We serve a God of truth, a God who in history guided His church to reject Arianism, Gnosticism, and dozens of other dangerous heresies. A God who has raised up saints in each of these three traditions to do His will. A God who uses broken, often incorrect sinners to bring about His glory through death and resurrection.
What Lewis called “Mere Christianity” is a picture of a fractured church held together by loose strings of history and faith, all under one roof. This isn’t simple ecumenism that ignores our differences. It’s a beautiful picture, not of Christians reducing their conflicts, but discussing them and holding firm to what they are convinced the truth is. Perhaps the Spirit of Truth will guide His people into this truth, and bring us into unity in it. After all, He is a God who loves to restore what is lost. Until that day comes, we would do well to remember that our true enemy is without, not within, believing bodies.
The Path Forward
The Orthodox, Catholic, and Protestant churches are different. Within each group are even more differences in theology, practice, liturgy, tradition, and emphases. Many Christians believe explicitly or implicitly that we are not only different, but irrevocably so. But perhaps there is a path forward – one that leads, as I mentioned in the beginning, through the fire.
There is one last biblical story that just might help us on our way. Allow me to set the stage.
Israel is exiled in Babylon, and the King of Babylon has put idolatry into law in the form of a golden idol. There are three men who refuse to bow down. Three men who refuse to cower to the demands of the state, the culture, the world. Three men who stand firm, and who are punished for it. Three different men. Thrown into a fiery furnace – a purifying flame. And amidst the chaos, amidst the trial by fire, Christ stands with them all, and brings them out.
May it be.
Zephram Foster writes from Tahlequah, Oklahoma. He works in the field of educational media, and in youth ministry in a Reformed Baptist Church. He creates in various formats such as songwriting, blogging, and hosting a film podcast called Not Qualified. His various outlets can be found at www.zeffoster.com.