Gospel of Matthew

Asking for a Friend - How can we hold onto our Shared Humanity in a Divided World?

Matthew 18:21-22

Then Peter came and said to him, “Lord, if my brother or sister sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy times seven.


I loathe physical therapy. Thanks to having the back of someone 3x my age, I have been quite a few times in the last ten years. Everytime I go, I am paired with a guy about my same age but who is in impeccable physical condition, which already makes me feel worse. Then they put me through a circuit of ridiculous exercises, things with bands, an impossible balancing board, and stretches that make me feel like something could snap at any moment.

Exasperated, after throwing a ball against the wall while balancing on one leg, I asked, ‘What in the world does this have to do with making my back feel better?!’ My therapist said, ‘Your low back is weak. We can strengthen it some, but not much. Instead, if we focus on everything else around your low back, your hips, your core, your flexibility, then the pain will start to go away, but not entirely. You’ll be able to function, just not fully; your discs are too damaged. So focusing solely on your low back will never bring the healing you want. You have to focus on everything else around it.”

Now talking about my woes with physical therapy may seem like a non sequitur to the final question in our series: How do we hold on to our shared humanity in a divided world? But I promise it will come back around. So stay with me.

One thing among many I have loved about this series, Asking for a Friend, is that all of the questions have been timely; relevant not just to our life together, but to much that is happening in the world around us.

Today’s question is one we all want an answer to. The questioner had more context: they said, “as we get more and more divided, it seems like faith communities are pushing further and further to the extremes. In doing so, we lose the ability to see our shared humanity. What do we do? How do we move forward”?

Division and conflict have become a staple of American life. And that’s not just an anecdote, though I am sure you have your own story. According to Pew Research Center, compared to similar nations,we Americans hold much deeper divisions within nearly every facet of society: politics, race, and even agreement on basic facts.

Ironically enough, polarization is now a defining feature of these United States.

Faith communities are no different, especially along partisan lines. These days it’s more likely that the way someone votes determines what church they attend than their theological views. Which means, more churches are becoming homogenous in their political beliefs, more people are leaving churches from political partisanship, and there are fewer and fewer purple congregations. For the most part, churches are not sorting themselves, they are already sorted.

And in just the past two weeks, headlines have piled up calling this moment an inflection point—a crisis. It sure feels like it. Unity? Seeing our shared humanity? It seems nearly impossible—for churches, for the nation, let alone the warring parts of the world. So what do we do? I think we, as a church, go about unity like physical therapy.

It may sound counterintuitive, but if unity is the goal, don’t focus on it. If we insist on “being united”, if we tell ourselves and others, “we are a united congregation,” we won’t be—and everyone will end up disappointed, or worse.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer once wrote, “He who is in love with his vision of community will destroy community. But he who loves the people around him will create community wherever he goes.” The same is true of unity. If we love the idea of unity more than the people in front of us, we’ll never achieve it.

This is exactly what allows a group like Zeitouna to exist. Zeitouna is a group of six Jewish and six Palestinian women who, despite deep divisions, have learned to see each other’s shared humanity. For over twenty years, they have gathered in each others’ homes every other week, sharing dinner, and engaging in intentional Dialogue. They listen not to formulate a response, but to understand the other’s point of view. Their goal is not to come to an agreement. How could they?

Instead, they work on creating shared understanding—by listening, speaking from their own experience, slowing down, and pausing more. They focused on so many other things, not just the issues. And only then were they able to see one another for what they truly are, human. Irene, a Jewish member, said, “My heart has been opened to those who scare me.” Wadad, a Palestinian member, said, “Through Zeitouna I’ve learned to hear the voice of the ‘other’—her pain and her joy—realizing it mirrors my own.” They never chased unity itself. They focused on other things, and unity formed along the way.

Instead of chasing unity, let’s focus on our shared humanity, on forgiveness, and on grace.

Now, in the church we love to say that every person is made in the image of God. And that is true. But if we stop there, we can fool ourselves into thinking that image means we are inherently good, virtuous, capable. Scripture, and our experience, say otherwise. Paul reminds us that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” The image of God in us is real, but like funhouse mirrors, it is fractured and distorted.

So what do we share, really? We share our limits. We share our failures. We share our tendency to mess things up and let each other down. Our weakness, not our strength, is our common ground. And friends, that might sound like bad news, but it is actually quite the opposite. Because when you stop expecting other people to be more virtuous, more stable, or more capable than you are—you find yourself a little less disappointed. A little more patient. A little more compassionate. It frees us to meet one another not with unrealistic expectations but with grace.

But that also means we will need to forgive, and to do so often. Like Peter, we ask “how often”? More than we want to, more than what seems right, honestly more than we think we can. Because it’s not so much that someone will wrong you 490 times, but that it might take 490 attempts at forgiving one offense before we’ve really done it.

All of that is hard. Which means, if we are going to see our shared humanity, forgive one another, and live as a functioning community, it will only be out of gratitude for the grace of Jesus, who has already done all of that for you and always will. When we dwell on the grace poured into our lives, it spills over—flowing from our hearts out into the world, giving others the mercy and love Jesus has already given us.

Just like physical therapy, if unity is the goal, focusing on it will only lead to more pain, disappointment, and ultimately division. Because we will, and likely already have, let each other down.

But I am asking you to stay. Stay even when there’s disagreement, stay when feelings are hurt, stay when it feels easier to walk away. Because if we leave every time, we miss what Jesus is capable of through forgiveness and grace.

So let’s focus on those things now: on shared humanity, on forgiveness, on the grace already given to us. And then by the mercy of God and the work of the Spirit, unity will begin to take shape. It may not be perfect. The pain may not entirely go away.

But we will be able to function.

We will be able to live together as God’s people.

And we will have hope for the unity that is to come to all people, through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

Asking for a Friend - Is the Church a Mission Center or Social Club?

Matthew 28:16-20

Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshiped him, but they doubted.

And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit

and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.

And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.


We are party deprived. That’s the argument Ellen Cushing makes in a wonderful little article in The Atlantic earlier this year. On any given weekend or holiday, only 4% of Americans hosted or attended a social event. Polling shows most people like the idea of parties, but nobody wants to host them. Maybe that sounds familiar.

None of this should surprise us. More than any other time in modern history, adults spend less time with friends and more time alone—and we’re strangely okay with it. In fact, we often prefer it. Confined to our couches, transfixed by our phones, feeding on the stories our screens serve us. Simply put: we need more parties.

And yes, that’s part of my response to today’s question: is the church a mission center or a social club?

This is the second-to-last week of our Asking for a Friend series. And we have covered lots of big topics. But today the question is both what should the church with a capital C—the universal body of Christ across all time and space—be, but also the lowercase c church: Cross of Grace. What are we? A mission center or a social club?

Someone was looking at the list of questions a couple weeks ago and began laughing out loud. Oh no, I thought, we made a typo. But then they turned to me and said “who’s preaching on the 14th?”. I lied and said I don’t know because depending on why they laughed I might have changed it. But this person said well because it’ll be the easiest answer of them all. I said “why is that?” and they said because the answer is yes!

It is both a mission center and a social club. I’m sure many of you think so, too. But if I had to guess, most would say the church needs to be a mission center:the place that equips, educates, empowers, and then sends out not just people but disciples to share the gospel in word and deed. That’s what Jesus commands in the Great Commission: Go, baptize, make disciples.

Here at Cross of Grace, that language is familiar. Nearly 25 years ago, when we were just getting started in the school and knocking on doors, we called ourselves a mission center—even without a building. It’s also why we call ourselves Partners in Mission, not members. Members join to consume. Think wellness center, country club, or book club. But partners engage to participate. And this mission of sharing the grace of Jesus Christ, with no strings attached, depends on your participation.

It just so happens that church is also a social club. And sometimes we feel guilty about that—like fellowship is less important than mission, or just a by-product of “real” church work. But here’s the problem: too often we treat mission and worship like consumers. We show up, get what we think we need, and leave. That makes faith transactional—something we “use” to make ourselves better.

So maybe the real question is: should mission always come first, and fellowship second? I don’t think so. I don’t think that’s what the Bible shows us, either. Which is why today I want to come to the defense of church as a social club, because fellowship is not secondary. It’s essential.

Keep in mind, when we talk about church as a mission center or social club, we’re talking in metaphors.

And metaphors are helpful—they give us new ways of seeing something familiar. But no single metaphor ever tells the whole story. Take the old saying that the church is a “hospital for sinners.” It sounds good, but if we lean on it too hard, church becomes just a place you visit when you’re sick, get patched up, and leave until the next problem.

Every metaphor has limits. Whether we call the church a hospital, a mission center, a social club, or one of the thousand other metaphors we use. At best, they point us toward the deeper truth: the church is a community of flawed people, gathered by God, given the gift of grace in Jesus Christ.This gift of grace doesn’t just forgive us; it transforms us. It places us in relationship with God, and that changes who we are.

As Isaiah says, we become a light that reveals the source of our gift, a lens that offers a new way of seeing the world. We become liberators for those held down by oppression.

That is what Jesus did, and that becomes our mission too—not because we have to, but because we can’t help but share what we ourselves have received.

But that kind of work is never easy. It is hard, long, dangerous, and exhausting. Which is why the grace of God doesn’t just send us out—it also gathers us in. It gives us each other. Because if we’re going to live into this mission for any length of time, we will need fellowship.

That’s exactly what we see in Acts. After hearing Peter proclaim the grace of Jesus, the people were moved. But notice what they did next: they didn’t scatter to form food pantries or community centers. Instead, they devoted themselves to eating and praying together.

In just five verses, Acts gives us five reminders of the early church’s desire simply to be with one another.

Fellowship wasn’t an afterthought, and it didn’t come after mission. The two rose up together, side by side, as the Spirit’s gift to the church.

To me, the bigger miracle of Pentecost wasn’t that people suddenly spoke in languages they had never learned. The real miracle was that people actually wanted to be with one another. Can you imagine such a thing in the year of our Lord 2025? Fellowship be damned—we’d rather be alone.

Or maybe the deeper truth is we don’t really know how to be together anymore. And that’s exactly why I want to defend the Church—this church—as a social club for this moment in time. Because if we don’t know how to be together, then practicing fellowship is the mission.

At a time when political violence is rising, when fear of our neighbors is the default, when anxiety and loneliness feel normal—and we’re largely okay with that—the work the church is called to right now is fellowship itself.

And if you think that’s not biblical, Jesus should did spend a lot of time eating and drinking with people…

so much so that he was known as a glutton and a drunk. And the people weren’t just his disciples, but those who were different from him in every imaginable way.

Maybe if we spent more time together, if we ate and drank more together, if we learned how to talk and listen to one another, if we began to see the image of God in each person, we wouldn’t feel the need to tear each other apart over political disagreements.

I know that’s an over simplification, but I also believe it’s true. What’s really happening at our social gatherings—brew club, Mardi Gras, Oktoberfest, moms’ night, or anything else—is that the grace of Jesus Christ is shaping us. It’s teaching us to be a people who want to be together.

This desire is not soft sentimentality. It’s the work of the Spirit: forming in us a determination to care for our neighbors and seek their good, even when they are different, indifferent, or opposed to us. Grace gives us the desire—and the courage—to be in the company of one another.

And when we do, we begin to see the face of God in every person, whether a Partner in Mission, a neighbor, a friend, a Democrat, a Republican, a president, pundit, and more.

The Church is constantly reforming how we meet the needs of our neighbors and the world around us.

Right now that looks like more parties and more fellowship—especially with people who don’t look, act, think, believe, or behave like us.

Yet, what never changes is what we offer. The church, this church, always offers the grace of Jesus, with no strings attached. We offer it at the font, at the table, through the resources we share,

and yes, through the fellowship that binds us together in Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.