One Cross, One People: How the Gospel Forms a United Church

The season of Epiphany invites the church to reflect on what has been revealed. It is a season of light—light breaking into darkness, clarity interrupting confusion, and God making himself known in the person of Jesus Christ. Epiphany reminds us that the gospel is not a private illumination meant only for individual hearts. It is a public revelation meant to be seen, embodied, and lived out in community.

That is why questions of unity matter so deeply during this season. If Christ has been revealed to the world, then the church becomes the primary place where that revelation is meant to be visible. The way Christians live together, disagree with one another, worship side by side, and bear one another’s burdens becomes a living testimony to the reality of the gospel. Unity, then, is not a secondary issue or an optional virtue. It is central to the church’s witness.

The apostle Paul understood this well. Writing to a growing and divided church in Corinth, he begins not with theological correction or moral instruction, but with an urgent appeal for unity. Before addressing doctrine, ethics, or practice, Paul addresses relationships. He knows that a fractured community cannot faithfully embody a crucified and risen Savior.

At the heart of Paul’s appeal is a simple but profound truth: the cross of Christ creates a united people who live for God’s kingdom. This conviction shapes everything else he says, and it continues to shape the church today.

When Good Intentions Still Lead to Division

Most churches do not struggle because people are apathetic. They struggle because people care deeply. They care about Scripture. They care about worship. They care about faithfulness. They care about the future of the church. And when people care deeply, disagreements can carry real emotional weight.

Paul writes to the Corinthians knowing this reality. He acknowledges that there are rivalries among them—not because they have rejected Christ, but because they have begun attaching their identity to different leaders and preferences. Some claim allegiance to Paul, others to Apollos, others to Peter, and still others insist they belong to Christ alone. What looks like spiritual maturity on the surface actually masks a deeper problem.

Paul cuts through the noise with a piercing question: “Is Christ divided?” The question forces the church to slow down and confront what is really happening beneath their disagreements. Division in the church is rarely just about ideas. More often, it reveals misplaced loyalties. It exposes the voices we allow to shape us alongside Christ—or sometimes even above Christ.

This is why division can feel so justified. Preferences are often rooted in meaningful experiences. Traditions carry emotional and spiritual significance. Strong leaders leave lasting impressions. None of these things are inherently wrong. The problem arises when they begin to compete with the centrality of the cross.

Paul reminds the Corinthians—and us—that unity does not require uniformity. It requires clarity about what truly matters most.

Loving People More Than Our Ideal Church

One of the most challenging truths about Christian community is that it rarely matches our ideal vision. Churches are filled with real people—people with different backgrounds, personalities, wounds, and expectations. Community, by definition, involves friction.

This reality is captured powerfully in a well-known quote from Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who wrote: “The person who loves their dream of community will destroy community, but the person who loves those around them will create community.”

Bonhoeffer’s words confront the subtle danger of idealism. When we become more attached to our vision of what church should be than to the people God has placed around us, we begin to damage the very thing we claim to love. Division rarely begins with open conflict. It often begins with disappointment, discomfort, or the quiet conviction that things should be done differently.

Paul does not respond to this temptation by offering a strategic plan for conflict resolution. Instead, he brings the church back to memory. Unity begins by remembering who was crucified.

Remembering Who the Church Belongs To

Paul asks the Corinthians two more questions: “Was Paul crucified for you?” and “Were you baptized in Paul’s name?” The answers are obvious—and intentionally so. The church does not belong to its leaders. It does not belong to its loudest voices or strongest personalities. It does not belong to its traditions or preferences. It belongs to Jesus Christ.

The cross stands as the great equalizer in the life of the church. At the foot of the cross, no one’s credentials matter. No one’s opinions carry more weight. No one’s influence grants special access. We all come as sinners in need of grace, and we all leave as recipients of mercy.

This conviction has guided the church for centuries. Augustine of Hippo famously summarized the posture of Christian unity with these words: “In essentials, unity. In non-essentials, liberty. In all things, charity.”

The gospel demands unity where the cross is concerned. It allows freedom where Scripture gives room. And it requires love in everything. This framework does not eliminate disagreement, but it provides a faithful way to live with it.

A Light That Reorients Our Values

The Epiphany readings remind us that Jesus begins his ministry by calling people out of darkness and into light. Matthew echoes Isaiah’s words: “The people who live in darkness have seen a great light.” This light does not simply illuminate individual hearts. It reshapes entire communities.

Paul insists that the cross is the clearest expression of that light—and also the most unsettling. To the world, the cross looks foolish. It undermines strength, status, and self-promotion. Corinth was a city that prized wisdom, eloquence, and public recognition. Power mattered. Influence mattered. Reputation mattered.

And the cross did not fit.

A crucified Messiah looked weak. Shameful. Defeated. Yet Paul insists that this apparent weakness is actually the power of God. The cross does not just save us; it confronts us. It challenges what we value and what we trust. It calls us to relinquish the kinds of power the world celebrates in favor of self-giving love.

This reorientation has practical consequences. It means leadership in the church will sometimes look unimpressive. It means faithfulness may go unnoticed. It means service often happens quietly and without applause. Paul himself models this posture by downplaying his role in baptizing the Corinthians, refusing to let his identity become the center of their faith.

God, Paul reminds them, is far more interested in faithfulness than influence.

The Kind of Community the Cross Creates

If the cross reshapes our understanding of power, it also reshapes how we treat one another. Theology never remains abstract for Paul. It always takes flesh in community.

The cross forms a distinct kind of people—people who make room for difference without sacrificing devotion. People who welcome before they evaluate. People who examine their own hearts before demanding change from others. People who stay at the table when it would be easier to walk away.

The Corinthian church was one of the most diverse communities of its time. Paul could have encouraged them to split, to form groups based on preference or personality. Instead, he calls them to deeper faithfulness together. A divided church, Paul knows, sends a mixed message to the world. But a united church becomes a visible sign that God is doing something new.

This is where unity becomes missional. People may never read a church’s statement of faith, but they will notice how Christians treat one another. Unity makes the gospel visible. Not through perfection, but through perseverance. Not through agreement on everything, but through shared allegiance to Christ.


Questions for Reflection

1. Where do you see subtle divisions shaping how you think about the church or other believers?
2. How might embracing the way of the cross change how you engage disagreements or differences this week?
3. What would it look like for unity to be expressed through curiosity, listening, and prayer rather than certainty or withdrawal?

These questions are not meant to shame. They are meant to heal. Paul’s goal for the Corinthians—and for us—is restoration, not reprimand.

Coming Home to the Cross

Paul does not leave the church in conflict. He calls them home. Back to the cross. Back to their shared baptism. Back to the truth that Jesus Christ is not divided—and neither should his people be.

Henri Nouwen once observed: “Community is the place where the person you least want to live with always lives.”

The honesty of that statement reminds us that God uses real relationships—sometimes difficult ones—to shape our hearts and teach us love. The church is not called to be perfect. It is called to be faithful. Faithful to Christ. Faithful to one another. Faithful to the unity already given through the cross.

Epiphany proclaims that God has stepped into the darkness and made himself known. The question is no longer whether Christ has been revealed. The question is whether the church will reflect that revelation as a community. When believers stand together at the foot of the cross, something becomes visible to the world. The gospel is not only heard—it is seen.

The same cross that saves us also unites us. One body. One Savior. One sacrifice. And in that unity, the light of Christ continues to shine.