Doctrine and Mission

Tag: church splits

  • Why Movements Fracture: From MAGA to the Local Church

    Why Movements Fracture: From MAGA to the Local Church

    Introduction: The Inevitable Drift

    Movements rarely die all at once. They fracture.

    What begins as a unified cause—clear, compelling, and energizing—slowly splinters into competing factions. Voices that once stood shoulder to shoulder begin to turn on one another. What was once central becomes contested. What was once secondary becomes ultimate.

    You can see it in politics. You can see it in the church. And if we’re honest, you can see it in our own hearts.

    A Political Parable in Real Time

    The modern “America First” movement rallied around Donald Trump with a sense of shared purpose—border security, economic nationalism, and resistance to elite institutions.

    But unity around a figure is not the same as unity around a fully developed worldview.

    Now, fractures are visible:

    • Tucker Carlson emphasizes non-intervention and skepticism of foreign entanglements
    • Candace Owens has taken increasingly provocative and polarizing positions
    • Others remain firmly aligned with Trump’s policies and leadership

    What happened?

    The movement didn’t suddenly lose its passion—it lost its shared center of gravity. Once that center is tested (especially by real-world decisions like war, policy, or governance), underlying differences surface.

    And when those differences surface in a media-driven age, they don’t quietly diverge—they publicly collide.

    The Church Is Not Immune

    We would like to think the church is above this. It isn’t.

    Consider the rise and influence of Together for the Gospel Conference. It brought together pastors and leaders across denominational lines to stand on a shared conviction: the gospel is of first importance.

    For a time, that center held.

    But then came new pressures—particularly around social justice, race, and cultural engagement. What had been a coalition united by the gospel began to fracture over how the gospel applies to society.

    • Some emphasized justice as an implication of the gospel
    • Others warned against importing secular ideologies into the church

    And just like that, the coalition strained. Not because the gospel changed—but because agreement on the gospel did not guarantee agreement on everything else.

    From Denominations to Deacon Meetings

    This same dynamic is visible in the Southern Baptist Convention today. Internal debates—over leadership, abuse response, doctrinal boundaries, and cultural engagement—have exposed deep fault lines.

    But what’s most concerning is not what happens at the top.

    It’s what trickles down.

    Because eventually, that same spirit shows up in local churches:

    • Secondary issues become identity markers
    • Preferences become principles
    • Disagreements become divisions

    And unity begins to erode—not over the gospel, but over everything surrounding it.

    When Tertiary Issues Become Ultimate

    I saw this firsthand.

    A disagreement over parenting philosophy.
    A conviction about corporate worship—specifically, not allowing soloists.

    These are not insignificant topics. They matter. They require biblical wisdom.

    But they are not the gospel.

    And yet, they became lines of division. Not thoughtful disagreement—but relational fracture. Not charitable dialogue—but opposition.

    What causes that?

    It’s the same dynamic you see on the national stage:

    • Convictions untethered from proportion
    • Preferences elevated to doctrine
    • Disagreements treated as threats

    In other words, when we lose a clear sense of theological triage, everything starts to feel like a first-order issue.

    The Deeper Issue: Disordered Loves

    At the root of every fractured movement is not just disagreement—it’s disordered loves.

    We begin to love:

    • Being right more than being unified
    • Influence more than truth
    • Winning more than understanding

    And once that happens, division is inevitable.

    Even good convictions—rightly held—can become destructive when they are wrongly weighted.

    Recovering What Matters Most

    If movements fracture when they lose their center, then the solution is not the absence of conviction—but the recovery of proper order.

    The church must recover:

    1. The Centrality of the Gospel

    Not just in statement, but in function.

    The gospel must not only unite us doctrinally—it must govern how we treat one another.

    2. Theological Triage

    We must learn again to distinguish:

    • First-order doctrines (the gospel itself)
    • Second-order doctrines (that shape church life)
    • Third-order issues (where disagreement should not divide fellowship)

    Without this, everything becomes a hill to die on.

    3. Charity in Disagreement

    Conviction and charity are not enemies.

    You can hold a strong view on parenting, worship, or culture—and still refuse to divide the body over it.

    Conclusion: A More Excellent Way

    Fracturing may be inevitable in human movements—but it is not inevitable in a faithful church.

    Because the church is not ultimately held together by shared preferences, cultural alignment, or even ministry philosophy.

    It is held together by Christ.

    And where Christ is central, secondary things can remain secondary.

    But where Christ is displaced—even subtly—everything else begins to compete for first place.

    And when everything is ultimate, unity becomes impossible.

  • From Acts to Timothy: How the Church Matures

    It started, as it often does, with a meeting that ran too long at Redemption Hill Church.

    What was supposed to be a straightforward discussion about next year’s budget had slowly turned into something else. The room wasn’t loud, but it was heavy—the kind of silence where everyone knows more is being said beneath the surface than on it.

    Pastor Daniel sat at the end of the table, hands folded, trying to keep the conversation moving. Across from him was Mark Ellison, a longtime member whose family had been at Redemption Hill for over twenty years. Mark didn’t raise his voice—he didn’t have to.

    “I just think,” Mark said, leaning back in his chair, “we need to be wise about where we’re putting resources. We’ve always prioritized ministries that actually bear fruit.”

    Everyone in the room knew what he meant.

    Jared, one of the younger members who had only been at the church a few years, shifted forward. “But who decides what counts as fruit?” he asked. “It feels like some of these decisions are already made before we even get in this room.”

    A few heads turned. No one spoke.

    Finally, one of the elders, Tom, cleared his throat. “Jared, I think we need to be careful here. There’s a reason God appoints leaders. Not every decision needs to be… debated at length.”

    Jared nodded slowly, but the tension didn’t ease. “I’m not asking for control,” he said. “Just clarity.”

    From the corner, Lisa—who oversaw one of the ministries that had recently lost funding—spoke up quietly. “It would just be helpful to know why some things are being cut and others aren’t.”

    Mark sighed, not irritated, just settled. “Not everything can be a priority,” he said. “That’s just reality.”

    But by then, the meeting had already shifted. This wasn’t about numbers anymore. It was about trust. About influence. About who actually shaped the direction of the church.

    And everyone felt it.

    In the weeks that followed, the real conversations didn’t happen in meetings.

    They happened in parking lots after Sunday service.

    In living rooms over late-night conversations.

    In group texts that started with, “I don’t want to stir anything up, but…”

    Jared met with a few others from the church. “I’m not trying to divide anything,” he said, “but it feels like there are two churches here—one that makes decisions and one that just lives with them.”

    Across town, Mark sat at his kitchen table with a couple of longtime members. “We’ve seen this before,” he said. “You get a few people who want to change everything overnight. That’s how churches lose their footing.”

    Lisa, meanwhile, quietly stepped back from her ministry. No announcement. No conflict. Just… absence.

    By the next members’ meeting, the tension was no longer subtle.

    Someone finally said the word no one had wanted to say out loud:

    “Are we heading toward a split?”

    The room went still.

    Pastor Daniel leaned forward, his voice careful. “I hope not,” he said. “But we need to be honest about where we are.”

    And then, from the back of the room, a voice broke in—earnest, almost pleading:

    “This is exactly why the church needs to get back to the simplicity of Acts 2.”

    A few people nodded.

    “No politics. No power struggles. Just the Word, prayer, fellowship… caring for each other. That’s what the church is supposed to be.”

    It sounded right.

    It sounded spiritual.

    It sounded like the answer.

    But it also raised a question that no one in the room was asking yet:

    Was Acts 2 ever meant to carry the full weight of a church over time?

    Or are we longing for a moment in Scripture that was never designed to stand alone?

    Acts Is a Beginning, Not a Mature Model

    Acts 2 describes a newly formed community in the immediate aftermath of Pentecost. The Spirit has been poured out. Thousands have been converted. The apostles are physically present. The church is unified, energized, and—at least in that moment—uncomplicated.

    But it doesn’t stay that way.

    Very quickly, cracks begin to show:

    • In Acts 5, hypocrisy enters through Ananias and Sapphira.
    • In Acts 6, conflict arises over the neglect of widows.
    • In Acts 15, doctrinal controversy threatens the unity of the church.

    The “simplicity” of Acts 2 doesn’t disappear because something went wrong—it disappears because real people are involved. Sinners saved by grace still bring sin into the life of the church. Growth introduces complexity. Diversity introduces tension. Time introduces drift.

    And what does the church do?

    It doesn’t try to recreate Acts 2. It begins to organize, appoint, clarify, and guard.

    The Reality Check: The Churches of the New Testament

    If Acts shows us the birth of the church, the Epistles show us its adolescence—and it’s not pretty.

    Take Corinth, for example. This is not a church lacking spiritual gifts or enthusiasm. And yet:

    • Members are suing one another in secular courts (1 Cor. 6).
    • Sexual immorality is being tolerated—even celebrated (1 Cor. 5).
    • The Lord’s Supper is being abused, turning a sacred meal into division and selfishness (1 Cor. 11).
    • Worship gatherings are marked by chaos rather than edification (1 Cor. 14).

    This isn’t a church that just needs to “get back to Acts 2.” This is a church that needs correction, structure, and clear apostolic authority.

    Or consider Galatia:

    Paul doesn’t commend them—he confronts them. Strongly.

    • False teachers have infiltrated the church.
    • The gospel itself is being distorted.
    • Believers are being led away from grace into legalism.

    Paul’s response is not to simplify things. It is to draw hard doctrinal lines: “If anyone preaches another gospel…let him be accursed” (Gal. 1:8).

    Then there’s Ephesus:

    Even in a relatively healthy church, unity is fragile.

    • Jew and Gentile tensions threaten to divide the body (Eph. 2).
    • Maturity is not assumed—it must be cultivated (Eph. 4).
    • The church must be equipped so it is not “tossed to and fro by every wind of doctrine.”

    Across the New Testament, a pattern emerges: churches are not drifting because they’ve become too structured—they are struggling because they are made up of sinners who need clarity, leadership, and formation.

    The New Testament Moves Toward Structure, Not Away From It

    By the time we reach the Pastoral Epistles—1 Timothy and Titus—we’re no longer looking at a brand-new movement. We’re looking at churches that have existed long enough to face serious challenges:

    • False teachers are distorting the gospel (1 Tim. 1:3–7; Titus 1:10–11).
    • Leadership is necessary and must be qualified (1 Tim. 3; Titus 1).
    • Widows need structured, ongoing care (1 Tim. 5).
    • Church order is not optional—it is essential.

    Paul doesn’t tell Timothy and Titus to “get back to the simplicity of Acts 2.” He tells them to establish elders, appoint deacons, rebuke false teaching, and bring order to the household of God.

    In other words, the church doesn’t become less structured as it matures—it becomes more so.

    Guardrails Are Not the Enemy of the Spirit

    There is often an assumption behind the “back to Acts 2” mindset: structure stifles the Spirit, while simplicity invites Him.

    But the New Testament presents a different picture.

    The same Spirit who was poured out at Pentecost is the one who:

    • Inspires the qualifications for elders and deacons
    • Commands the guarding of sound doctrine
    • Establishes patterns for discipline, care, and leadership

    Structure in the church is not a retreat from spiritual vitality—it is the means by which spiritual vitality is preserved.

    Guardrails are not opposed to life; they protect it.

    The Church Is Not an Event—It’s a Household

    Acts 2 feels like a moment. The Pastoral Epistles describe a household.

    Paul explicitly calls the church “the household of God” (1 Tim. 3:15). Households require order. They require leadership. They require care for the vulnerable. They require instruction, correction, and stability over time.

    You can’t run a household on a perpetual “Pentecost moment.” It requires ongoing faithfulness.

    The Real Danger of Romanticizing Acts 2

    When we idealize Acts 2 as the model to return to, we can unintentionally:

    • Downplay the necessity of qualified leadership
    • Resist accountability and doctrinal clarity
    • Neglect long-term care structures (like widows and the needy)
    • Confuse emotional vibrancy with spiritual health

    Worse, we can begin to see the very instructions God gives in the Pastoral Epistles as less spiritual than the early days of Acts.

    But that’s exactly backward.

    Don’t Rewind—Mature

    The goal isn’t to go back to Acts 2. The goal is to become a church that is:

    • Rooted in apostolic doctrine
    • Led by qualified, godly elders
    • Served by faithful deacons
    • Committed to sound teaching
    • Structured to care for its people
    • Equipped to guard the gospel over time

    Acts 2 shows us what the Spirit begins.
    1 Timothy and Titus show us what the Spirit sustains.

    A Better Vision

    Yes, we should long for the devotion, generosity, and gospel power of Acts 2.

    But we should also embrace the wisdom, order, and durability of the Pastoral Epistles.

    Because the same God who poured out His Spirit in Acts 2 is the God who, through Paul, told the church how to endure.

    Not as a moment.

    But as a faithful, ordered, truth-guarding people—generation after generation.

  • When Pride Leads the Church: The Spirit of Diotrephes

    In the short but powerful letter of 3 John, the Apostle John mentions a man by name—Diotrephes. Unlike many biblical characters who are remembered for their faithfulness, generosity, or repentance, Diotrephes is remembered for something else: his destructive spirit.

    John doesn’t mince words. He calls him out clearly and publicly:

    “I wrote something to the church, but Diotrephes, who loves to be first among them, does not accept what we say.” (3 John 9)

    In that single verse, we meet a type of person who still exists in churches today—a man who destroys what Christ died to build. Here’s a deeper look at the characteristics of Diotrephes and the warning he presents to every congregation.

    1. Pride: “He loves to be first”

    At the heart of Diotrephes’ behavior is a love of preeminence—a desire to be the most important voice in the room. He didn’t just want influence; he wanted dominance. This kind of pride is deadly in the church because it always elevates self over Christ and self over others.

    This person doesn’t serve for the good of the body or the glory of God. He serves so he can be seen, praised, and obeyed.

    2. Rejection of Apostolic Authority: “He does not accept what we say”

    Diotrephes didn’t just disagree with John’s leadership—he rejected it outright. This wasn’t some secondary issue; John was an eyewitness to the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. To reject John was to reject the apostolic teaching—the very foundation of the early church.

    Likewise today, those who oppose biblical authority—whether through denying the Word or undermining faithful shepherds—are not reformers, but rebels. A church cannot thrive when those in leadership ignore or twist Scripture to suit their egos.

    3. Slander: “He unjustly accuses us with wicked words”

    Diotrephes didn’t just resist—he attacked. He maligned the character of godly men with “wicked words.” When someone seeks control in a church, they often resort to slander and gossip to tear down anyone who stands in their way.

    This is a weaponized tongue, and James warns about it: “The tongue is a fire, a world of unrighteousness… it is set on fire by hell” (James 3:6).

    4. Hostility Toward God’s People: “He refuses to welcome the brothers and stops those who want to”

    Diotrephes also shut the door to faithful missionaries and teachers. He actively opposed hospitality and cooperation in gospel work, and he even threatened others who wanted to help them.

    This is the behavior of a gatekeeper, not a shepherd. He turns the church inward, dividing and isolating it from the broader body of Christ.

    5. Abuse of Power: “He puts them out of the church”

    Worst of all, Diotrephes used his power to excommunicate faithful believers—not for heresy or immorality, but for disagreeing with him. This kind of spiritual abuse still happens in churches today, where toxic leaders remove those who challenge their authority.

    This is not shepherding—it’s tyranny.

    A Final Word: Don’t Be a Diotrephes

    The church is Christ’s body, not ours to control. If you see these traits—pride, rejection of authority, slander, hostility, abuse of power—in a leader, or even in yourself, take John’s warning seriously.

    John wrote this short letter not just to expose a man, but to protect the church. Let us do the same. Call out sin, defend the truth, and remember John’s command:

    “Beloved, do not imitate what is evil, but what is good.” (3 John 11)