It’s my second day at Asbury Seminary; first day of class. So far I’ve attended two days of new student orientation and several chapel services.

At chapel this morning I was confronted again with a tension I grew up with, something I’ll call the “worthiness factor” in taking communion. My faith tradition practiced “closed communion” which simply meant that the communion table was typically open to only members of that church who were in “right standing” with God and their fellow believers. This is based on an understanding of 1 Corinthians 11 in which Paul instructs the believers to not eat the bread or drink the cup unworthily.

The dean of the chapel made the rather startling comment at the onset of the service that there were some of us in the audience who were unworthy to participate in the Lord’s table. He then proceeded to announce that if any of us felt worthy of the bread or cup we ought not to come. For the unworthy—those aware of their constant need for grace—the table was open.

Perhaps the real problem lies with those who translate “unworthily” as being “unworthy”. A better rendering of that text might be “in an unworthy manner.” This is clearly seen as Paul elaborates about those who ought not to eat or drink—those who fail to discern the body of Christ.

Furthermore, is it Biblical to discern whether or not another person is “worthy” to commune? Can one see into another person’s heart? It’s easy to be externally aligned and offer acceptable words at a “preparatory service” while all the time be callous toward the body of Christ.

Closed communion presupposes that we have jurisdiction over those within our own church and must thus take responsibility for those who commune. But do we commune with those we think are worthy or do we commune based on self-examination? Only the latter is Biblical (see 1 Cor. 11: 28-32). And how does one explain Jesus offering the bread and wine to Judas—one that He knew was in desperate need of grace at that moment?

But there’s even a greater tension I’ve wrestled with in practicing closed communion. Something that stems primarily from my personal experiences within the broader body of Christ.

In Southeast Asia I would often travel to speak in a variety of settings. Often I was invited to commune with believers who didn’t share my denominational background or practice Christianity exactly as I did. Having refused the bread and cup offered to me would have been akin to committing sacrilege.

Why would Jesus throw a banquet in His honor and then not show up to celebrate it with all His children?

This past month I’ve been reminded again of the diversity and beauty of the body of Christ. A roomful of guys from different backgrounds sharing their dreams about reaching a broken world. A group of students at LSU attempting to decipher their role in the Kingdom. A couple with three children—two adopted from China and one biological—who have taken a foreign exchange student into their home and are open to moving overseas to make God famous among the unreached. All seeking the heart of God, all pursuing His higher purposes for their lives. Though not like me, all are Christ-followers with whom I experienced a oneness and joy.

I’ve taught numerous times on the issue of God’s greatest glory being reached when He unites all the diversity on the planet under the one umbrella of Jesus Christ. I’ve seen my vision of God expand each time I worship Him with people from differing perspectives and cultures. I’ve also been enriched in my Christian walk by learning from people of varying colors and Christian backgrounds.

Unity is good, pleasant, and refreshing, David points out in his 133^rd Psalm. It is there that “the Lord bestows His blessing, even life forevermore” (vs. 3). Unity is also a major theme in the New Testament. Jesus prays for it three times in His classic prayer found in John 17. Paul mentions it over and over again. Yet we still don’t seem to really get it. As one of my friends recently commented, “It is unfortunate that we take time out of our busy schedule fighting the devil to fight each other.”

To keep things in perspective, John Trapp reminds us that, “Unity without verity [truth] is no better than conspiracy. In fact, many folks excuse themselves from the pursuit of unity for this very reason. And while that may be noble in certain situations, I believe that most of the time many Christians are misguided by their unperceived arrogance. Their feelings of superiority based on their belief that they have greater insights and revelation than other believers makes them prime candidates for opposition. Not opposition from the enemy however. The Apostle James makes it very clear that “God resists the proud” (4:6).

I have no doubt that true unity cannot occur apart from a commitment to truth. Yet why do we tend to fight over the 10 percent or less of nuance and application rather than unite on the 90+ percent of essentials we all agree on? The old ecumenism put little emphasis on truth…a new ecumenism must move forward on the essentials of the Gospel. It must grow in the context of relationship as we mutually influence each other to become more like Christ. In other words, what’s strong or beneficial in someone else’s faith tradition becomes a learning point for us, and what’s useful and valuable in our faith tradition becomes a learning point for them.

Frederick Coutts once said that, “Few things make a mockery of Christianity more than disunity among believers.” The present day fragmentation of the church must end. Not necessarily an end to all denominations and groupings, but rather an end to the isolation, turf wars and posturing these barriers have created.

Jesus saw unity in terms of missional impact. “By this will all men know that you are My disciples,” He stated, “by your love for one another.” What are you currently doing to fulfill His vision for unity in the body?