If I’m honest, and I suspect many of us would agree, division feels like one of the defining features of our moment. We see it everywhere: in families, workplaces, churches, politics, and even across the global landscape. Most of us aren’t fans of division. We crave familiarity. We long for life to feel a little less tense and a little more caring. Within the church, that desire for comfort can quietly shape our loyalties. We gather under beautiful banners like Baptist, Anglican, Presbyterian, Charismatic, Pentecostal, and so many others. These traditions can be extremely life-giving and meaningful, but at times they can also become unintended lines of separation within the Body of Christ.
So the question quietly emerges: how do we, as Christians, navigate division, especially when comfort feels safer than challenge? The apostle Paul speaks directly into this tension. Writing to the church in Corinth, a community not unlike our own, he urges them to lift their eyes beyond personalities, preferences, and factions, and to remember who they truly belong to:
“Now I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you be in agreement and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be united in the same mind and the same purpose. For it has been reported to me by Chloe’s people that there are quarrels among you, my brothers and sisters. What I mean is that each of you says, ‘I belong to Paul,’ or ‘I belong to Apollos,’ or ‘I belong to Cephas,’ or ‘I belong to Christ.’ Has Christ been divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Or were you baptized in the name of Paul? I thank God that I baptized none of you except Crispus and Gaius, so that no one can say that you were baptized in my name. (I did baptize also the household of Stephanas; beyond that, I do not know whether I baptized anyone else.) For Christ did not send me to baptize but to proclaim the gospel, and not with eloquent wisdom, so that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its power. For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” (1 Corinthians 1:10–18)1
I am reminded of a memory of my Granny, my mom’s mom, who lived in a small town called Wheeler, Mississippi—just outside Booneville. We’re truly talking small town. The roads that were still dirt when I was young. She was the kind of pioneer woman who loved to mow her own grass and might have even tried to chop her own firewood well into her later years. We usually visited her around Christmas, when the air was cold, the trees were bare, and the days felt shorter. What I remember most vividly is the smell of her fireplace. Before she had an enclosed heater-style unit, she used an old-fashioned open fireplace, tending the logs carefully to warm the house. Even now, catching the scent of a burning fireplace can instantly transport me back to that place—somewhere familiar, safe, and deeply comforting. We humans love that feeling. We love comfort. And sometimes we build theological and denominational “fireplaces” that feel warm and familiar. But Paul reminds us that our truest identity isn’t found in what makes us most comfortable, it’s found in Christ alone.
Dear friends, division, while painful, is not the final word. God has called the whole Church—across traditions, expressions, and cultures—to be His hands and feet in the world. There is hope when we dare to step beyond what feels familiar and begin to see fellow believers not as “other,” but as family. Perhaps that invitation is closer than we think. This week, maybe it looks like sharing a meal with a coworker who worships differently than you do, or listening with curiosity instead of caution. It may stretch your comfort zone, but grace often waits on the other side of that stretch. And as you do, may you be gently reminded that Christ’s love extends to all who love Him and are called according to His purpose—and that, in Him, we truly belong to one another. One body, one Lord.
Luke Gambill 