Unity

This weekend, we attended a meeting of the General Assembly of the Church of Central Africa Presbyterian. The General Assembly consists of representatives from the five synods of our denomination: Livingstonia, Blantyre, and Nkhoma (all in Malawi), Harare Synod (in Zimbabwe), and the Synod of Zambia. These five synods, from three different countries, include people from more than twenty tribal groups, at least seven different languages, and an incredible diversity of economic conditions. Different tribes, different languages, different nationalities, different economic stations, different educational levels, different perspectives on gender and faith. And yet, they are all part of one denomination.

This General Assembly was monumental, in that it was the first General Assembly in seven years. Seven years ago, the General Assembly meeting ended in conflict and anger. The different groups, different synods, different countries, different people, left in dissent and severed relationships. When the General Assembly was due to meet again, it did not happen. There was simply too much anger, too much antagonism, too much pain.

Year by year, the division continued, until some of my colleagues began to speak up. “Are we called to unity in Christ? Are we not one denomination?” They built bridges, listened to frustrations, offered compromises, and finally achieved what many thought impossible. All five synods agreed to meet, bringing together the various countries, various tribes, various languages, various socio-economic stations, various educational levels, various theologies. And this weekend, they all came together.

During the meeting, there were elections, and new leadership was chosen. The newly elected moderator offered a sermon on unity, on the joy that parents feel when their children get along. “When a father sees his son and daughter laughing together, playing together, sharing together, the father feels deep joy. When a mother sees her children loving each other, caring for each other, helping each other, the mother feels deep joy. This is how God feels when we are united; it is precious.” He continued, “But how do you feel if your children quarrel and are cruel to one another? This is how God feels when we refuse to listen to one another, when we refuse to care for one another.” 

His sermon went a step further than I was initially comfortable with, for he declared that in order to really find unity, we have to be willing to give up a part of ourselves. For me, as an American, this statement was a bit unsettling. Shouldn’t we be fully ourselves? Shouldn’t we refuse to give up who we are? Isn’t it wrong to cave in, and offer up a part of what we want, what we believe? I wondered about this, and I am still thinking it over. But the idea that I can bite my tongue sometimes, that I can work with people with whom I disagree, that I can give up a bit of my own dogmatism, in order to find unity, is a powerful and on-going challenge.

So often in America, I spent time only with people who were like me; we had similar political and theological beliefs, similar educational backgrounds, similar careers. For those who were deeply different, especially those with very different beliefs, I had love, but at a distance. I simply did not think I could be fully myself and still find unity. But, perhaps, that was the flaw all along. Maybe I don’t always need to be fully myself...

The denomination I work for, the Church of Central Africa Presbyterian, has agreed to work together in unity, despite significant differences and challenges. They have proclaimed that they are willing to give up a part of themselves, in order to move forward together. This challenges me to figure out where I am willing to give up a part of myself, in order to find unity.

I remember packing to leave for Zambia, as we were getting ready to move our family half way around the world, to a place I had never been. I was told I could only wear long skirts, and so, I piled up my jeans, my trousers, my shorts, my tank tops, any skirts that fell above the knee, and dresses that revealed my shoulders. I actually cried as I looked at the pile of clothes that I would not wear again. There was no point in packing or saving them; I would be donating them the following day. I looked at a favorite pair of jeans, at the dress that I wore to my sister’s wedding, at the comfy tank top that had lasted me through many summers, and I felt like I was giving something up. Some sort of comfort, some piece of me that was familiar, was piled up, like so much trash.

That was small, so small, and I am now well aware that I had the blessing of all those clothes to give away, as I live among many who wear ripped and stained garments by necessity. I feel a bit of shame as I remember crying over that pile of clothes that day, wondering what I was giving up, wondering if I was giving up a part of me.

Now, as I wear long skirts and walk with my Zambian sisters, as I wrap a chitenge around my waist, I feel the incredible blessing of unity across difference, the amazing gift of having friends who are different than me, who think differently than me, who believe differently than I do. I get the privilege of sharing meals, sharing lives, sharing stories, with people who choose to love me, even though I am different. Surely, it is worth wearing a skirt!

It is a challenge for me, where to bend, where to change, where to bite my lip, where to speak. But I think that for Americans, the biggest challenge is a willingness to give up a bit of ourselves, a bit of our dogmatism, a bit of our certainty, so that we can find true unity, walking together, working together, worshipping together, loving each other. For this is not only pleasing to God, as a parent who watches laughing children, but it is also pleasing to us, as our lives open, as our hearts open, as our worlds open.

Congratulations, Church of Central Africa Presbyterian, on a successful General Assembly meeting! Thank you for choosing unity and love over dissension and division. May we all follow your example.