Many people in the Christian movement of the western world have long used the term personal relationship to describe their experience of faith in Jesus Christ. I am one of them.
But along the way I came to believe that the scope of this idea of personal relationship was inadequate if it did not also imply a vigorous and a strategic personal relationship with Christ's people. In other words: love Jesus; love his followers. Oh, and be ready to explain what you mean by the word love.
Another term, Christian community, is useful in describing followers of Jesus who come together to do this loving. Now Christian community is a rather mallable concept and fits many kinds of gatherings from a monastic order where people live according to highly defined principles (a rule) to a living-room size group of people who pledge to gather regularly for prayer and conversation about the Bible.
The founder of Methodism, John Wesley, embraced Christian community when he came to insist that new converts from his itinerant preaching missions be folded into groups (bands and classes) of people who would meet weekly and run something like a checklist on the condition of each other's soul. In fact it would appear that Wesley concluded that if a person was not involved in such a group, his conversion was likely not genuine.
Wesley was not merely promoting a small-group program as many churches do today. Rather, he was acting out of theological conviction, convinced that there was no such thing as a solitary faith. German historian, Martin Schmidt, writes, "It became evident (to Wesley) that it was only through such close fellowship that people continued in their faith. Those who did not join the 'Society' (of Wesleyans) sooner or later fell back into their former careless life."
Schmidt adds that Wesley thought the ideal working number for a band of converts was ten or twelve. "The members of the classes came to meet together, and so a real encounter and true exchange between the members was assured. People shared experiences with each other, bore the burdens and care of a brother, spoke openly with each other and so nipped in the bud rumors and evil gossip. People prayed and sang with each other."
For almost 150 years, Methodists were among the fastest growing groups of Christians in the world. The key to this growth? The Methodists appreciated the power of Christ-followers together in community. One wonders why, when, and how Methodists in later generations seemed to abandon this core Wesleyan principle.
Some years ago Archbishop Desmond Tutu gave a speech at the University of Toronto in which he spoke of the idea of community from an African perspective: "We say in our African idiom, 'A person is a person through other persons.' The solitary human being is a contradiction in terms. I need you in order to be me as you need me in order to be you. We are caught up in a delicate network of inter-connectedness. I have gifts that you don't, and you have gifts that I don't—voila! We are made different so that we may know our need of one another. The completely self-sufficient human being is subhuman."
If Tutu accurately reflects the African perspective on human relationships (and I'm confident that he does), then the African Christian knows something that many North American Christians need to relearn. And it's this: that community—Tutu called it inter-connectedness—is essential in order for me to know myself … and to know you.
Here are the late Christian anthropologists Paul and Frances Hiebert: "True communities are built on the realization that the autonomous individual is not a whole person. A person is whole only as he or she is a person-in-community."
Does this speak to the essence of I John 3:11: "We know that we have passed from death to life because we love our brothers. … This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers."
Some serious connectedness (Tutu's term) is going on in those words. This is not a description of the sentimental or romantic kind of brotherly love that has emerged in the past few decades. This is a deliberate, life-giving (potentially) relationship one enters. We connect with each other not because it is a nice, extraverted idea but because Jesus "interconnected" with his followers and called upon them to replicate the process with one another. In fact, this embrace of one another was to be the brand that identified and distinguished the Christian movement.
Tertullian was thinking in this direction when he spoke of community in his time: "It is our care for the helpless, our practice of loving kindness, that brands us in the eyes of many of our opponents. 'Only look,' they say, 'look how they love one another … Look how they are prepared to die for one another.'"
Dare I suggest that Tertullian was thinking of something more audacious then sitting in church seats which are all pointed in one direction to be led and lectured by a band and a preacher? I hear him speaking about people who live in strategic lockstep with one another and who erupt with compassion when there is genuine need. Tertullian was a community guy.
I have a sense that a newly energized theme of Christian community is about to burst upon the scene as one of the most important themes of the 21st century church. Already, there has come a new emphasis upon the model of community as seen in the Triune Godhead (Father, Son, and Holy Spirit) and the notion that followers of the Lord are called to mirror this perfect unity.
Should this happen, it will be partly because we have spent time thinking about biblical community not just as an organizational strategy and we have become convinced that community is theological to the core. Perhaps these words express the idea I'm driving at: "How good and pleasant it is when brothers live together in unity … for there the Lord bestows his blessing, even life forever more" (Psalm 133:1).
In my first 45 years of life, the idea of community meant little to me. I understood the Greek word koinonia, that it meant fellowship or partnership. But I cannot say that I took the word that seriously. I enjoyed crowds, groups, small collections of bright and cheerful people. But—speaking as honestly as I can—I did not see these gatherings of people as essential to my Christian life. They were not a priority. I was a defender of the preaching event, and it seemed to me that regularly-meeting groups were a potential threat to the authority of the person in the pulpit (or music stand, as the case may be).
Then came a day when my life imploded. I write frequently, never lightly, of that day because it represents something of a continental divide in my life. A lot about me changed in the aftermath of that moment.
On that day, my world of work and leadership dissolved. Loneliness, humiliation, confusion became the dominant feeling. I understood the Psalmist who wrote of being in a deep, muddy pit from which there appeared to be no escape.
It was then I began to discover the deeper meanings of community. There was my wife, Gail, my family, a small covey of friends who surrounded me. When I was captured by feelings of despair and shame, they pressed courage into me. When I was convinced there was no tomorrow, they argued that there was. When I was tempted to believe certain voices in the Christian world that said that God was through with me, they insisted this was not true.
From this community 30 years ago came a renewing, restorative experience that was similar to evangelist Stanley Jones's description of an experience he had when his world fell apart.
"I lost my music (the music of his Christian life)," he writes of that dark-day moment. But then his community surrounded him, and he relates what happened next.
"My destiny was in the hands of that group. I was a very bruised reed; suppose they had broken me. I was a smoldering wick; suppose they had snuffed me out? Just a criticism: 'I told you so. Too good to be true. He was riding for a fall.' But they never uttered a criticism, or even thought of one, as far I could see. The reaction was nothing but redemptive love. That group became redemptive. I saw and experienced the power of redemptive love incarnate in a group.
I find Jones's account totally believable. Because at one time it was my experience.
But what makes this kind of a Christian community distinctive? Here are several ideas, some of which I hope ascend to the level of theological insights.
1. Christian Community occurs when two or more people enter into a conscious covenant to organize their lives together around Jesus, emulate his character, and become agents of some aspect of his mission. (Do not neglect the word together).
As people of faith, we often love to ask each other, "When did you commit yourself to Jesus?" We are really asking one another to tell our stories about when we crossed the line from non-faith to faith. Some of us—like myself—are tempted to answer, "Which conversion-story of mine do you want to hear about? My four year old conversion (to please my mother), my teenaged conversion (to please a girl), or the one I experienced when I came, in my adulthood, to appreciate what giving one's life to Jesus really implied?"
So it is in Christian community. Real community probably does not begin to happen until one consciously commits himself to engage with others who want to make following, growing in, serving Jesus the affinity point of their relationship. There is nothing casual about this commitment. It is thought out, examined for implications, embraced, and pursued as a major priority in one's life. It is a bonding not easily abandoned.
We know of three occasions when wanna-be disciples volunteered to follow Jesus. The Lord did what I would have been scared to do. He turned down their "applications." He must have known their hearts: that there was a spiritual blockage which would have prevented them from joining the group wholeheartedly and growing in the teaching and modeling of faith that was happening. I'm impressed: Jesus resisted expanding his interior community lest he compromise its growing integrity of togetherness. How he intuited this is something I'd like to know.
2. Christian community must be treated as a sacred relationship. It is different from joining Red Sox nation, the George Clooney fan club, or the United Airlines Mileage Plus Club. (Reflect on the word sacred)
Jesus was thinking this when he made the comment, "When two or three get together in my name, I am in the midst of them." Some would call this sacramental or Eucharistic language: the special presence of Christ. Just as one affirms the presence of Jesus in the Eucharistic distribution of the bread and wine, so Jesus is present when his people connect in his name.
Now imagine the quality of a small group of Christ-followers if everyone in the room is thinking that the special presence of Christ is here. Conversation is elevated. Caring deepens. Joy is more vivid. Honoring, not deprecating, one another becomes a priority. Worship takes place
Sacred does not mean an dull religiosity, which is absent of laughter, story-telling, eating, and seeking wisdom. But it does mean that one conducts him/herself in a way that is compatible with the presence of Jesus. In order to make this point, some have occasionally placed an empty chair in a circle and suggested that it's reserved for Jesus.
3. Christian community is a joint expression of godliness. (Brood on the words joint expression)
It's in the Scriptures that we find the intimidating word godly. Be godly, we are admonished. Be holy, we are told. Really! Who of us is comfortable with these words? How many of us know anyone we would describe as godly or holy. When I ask people this question, I usually get silence as an answer.
Can any person—in a lifetime!—really ascend to high holiness or godliness? I'm not sure. But maybe that goal of godliness or holiness is reachable by a group … in joint expression. Possible?
I visualize a pie in which each slice of the pie is a segment of holiness. Me—or my slice—may not be completely godly; John's slice may not be; and Mary's probably isn't either. But together, John, Mary, and I each offer some aspect of Christlikeness or godliness to the table that, combined, like those pie slices, reflects a significant part of the nature of God. As he has revealed himself, so we together may emulate his chraracter.
"As God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved," Paul writes to the Colossians, "clothe yourselves with …" And he goes on to assemble an amazing cluster of Christian virtues: compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience head the list. Could anyone fully express all of these? Probably not. But like the musicians in an orchestra make magnificent music together, the whole Colossian Christian community might be able to present a vista of Godliness.
4. In Christian community, people grow toward Christian maturity or Christlikeness. (Key word? Grow.)
No growth spiritually? No progress in character? No elevation in the quality of one's personal relationships? No movement toward compassion and generosity in the direction of the larger world? If true, I may be part of a group, but the group experience should not be confused with Christian community.
The Quaker writer, Elton Trueblood was speaking of growth in community when he wrote: "The renewal of the church will be in progress when it is seen as a fellowship of consciously inadequate persons who gather because they are weak, and scatter to serve because their unity with one another and with Christ has made them bold."
In the early days of my pastoral ministry, Gail and I were invited each week to join a group of couples who met every Sunday evening after church for an elegant dinner and loads of fun. We felt complimented, young as we were (then!), to be included. We always left those evenings with full stomachs (from eating) and sore ribs (from laughing). But after many months, we also sensed that we were often leaving with, well, let's call it dry souls. Good times they were but not the kind of times that sparked the maturing that the Bible describes as spurring one another "toward love and good deeds." No growth for our friends, and none for us: as far as we could discern.
In those days Gail and I did not possess the convictions we have today about community, but somehow we reached the conclusion that this was not a good way to cap off each Sunday. So there came a moment when we finally backed away from those Sunday evening events and found another group which, though not as affluent, not as sophisticated, was much more interested in a mutual search for Christian maturity. Perhaps the food wasn't as good, but there was a definite enlargement in soul-satisfaction.
5. Christian community is marked by "all-in" participation. ("All-in" meaning everyone is a player.)
In most voluntary organizations, the Pareto principle (the so-called 80/20 rule), is a rather common phenomena. But the Pareto ratio does not fit with the notion of Christian community. That is why Christian communities are usually small in size. And that is why the bar is raised (or should be raised) to a higher level of expectation when people commit to the formation of Christian community. To use an old American sports analogy, you don't want a few players on the field and a crowd of the uninvolved in the grandstands.
I never took this seriously in my early years of trying to make community happen. I was just glad to get a group of people, any group of people, into a room. I remember a man who joined one of my first attempts at Christian community-building. He seemed to turn every comment and every question into a joke. Admittedly, he was funny. Our gatherings were marked by laughter. At first we went home chuckling to ourselves about what a great evening we'd had.
But it really wasn't a great time. Not if the evening's events were measured by what we thought was the objective of our Christian community. It was difficult to realize and respond to the fact that this man was distracting us from our intended efforts. We had come together hoping for depth of connectedness, an experience in which each of us could speak openly, vulnerably, hopefully. A time to experience the unusual presence of Jesus. But this man didn't want to go there, and rather than say that, he simply used humor to keep us all off balance. That's one example of how not to be all-in.
In other groups we found that there were those who wanted to be a part of the experience but had no desire to open up their hearts, participate in dialogue, pray, or take responsibility when it came time to do something together. My mistake? Not realizing that not everyone is ready to enter into a Christian community, which is highly purposeful.
In later years I came to the conclusion that community only happens when there are mutual commitments. I learned that it was important to approach each person and say, "We're inviting you to be part of an 'all-in' group. No one sits outside the circle. No one remains aloof from the conversation. No one stays silent, non-participative, so that they become a mystery to the group."
In the past hundred years, few have written about Christian community more compellingly, more thoughtfully, than Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Life Together and The Cost of Discipleship are atop the list of must-reads when one begins to explore the possibilities of Christian community.
Perhaps Bonhoeffer first acquired his hunger for Christian community in his boyhood days when his family gathered about the table for meals and discussion. Or perhaps his understanding of Christian community came when he traveled to the United States and spent time in the company of Christians at the Abyssinian Baptist Church in Harlem.
His perspective on Christian community certainly became focused when he recruited a group of young men to join him in the countryside where he could prepare them for the kind of ministry that would have to happen after Adolph Hitler seized power in Germany.
Bonhoeffer learned that he could not survive without Christian community.
In Life Together, he wrote: "But if there is so much blessing and joy even in a single encounter of brother with brother, how inexhaustible are the riches that open up for those who by God's will are privileged to live in the daily fellowship of life with other Christians. It is true, of course, that what is an unspeakable gift of God for the lonely individual is easily disregarded and trodden under foot by those who have the gift every day. It is easily forgotten that the fellowship of Christian brethren is a gift of grace, a gift of the Kingdom of God that any day may be taken from us, that the time that still separates us from utter loneliness may be brief indeed. Therefore, let him who until now has had the privilege of living a common Christian life with other Christians raise God's grace from the bottom of his heart. Let him thank God on his knees and declare: it is grace, nothing but grace, that we are allowed to live in community with Christian brethren."
When our two children were in their single digit years, I came home one day and found them fighting about something. Their cries, their shouts filled the house. I stepped in and positioned them where they were forced to face each other just inches apart.
I said rather forcefully, "Read my lips! This is home, your home, my home, our home. Outside there may be a lot of people fighting. But behind this front door there is safety and encouragement and cooperation. Inside this home, we build one another! Are you hearing me?"
"Yes, Daddy," both said.
"Then say it!" I sort of demanded.
"We build one another."
"Say it again … louder!"
"We build one another."
When they'd repeated my mantra with increasing volume a dozen more times, we began to laugh and peace was restored.
And so it is with Christian community.
This is the second of Gordon MacDonald's articles on Christian community. Part one can be read here.
Copyright © 2014 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.
