Disagreement & Grace: The Hard Work of Unity in Diversity

Do We Need a Better Theology of Difference?

We, the Church, have never struggled to disagree. We have done it since our earliest days. What we do struggle to do is disagree with the kind of grace that is becoming of a disciple of Christ, rather than falling into the tribalism so common to human nature. At best, we drift into theological apathy or cynicism. At worst, we harden into camps that mistake conviction for superiority.

We love to quote the old phrase:

“Unity in essentials, liberty in non-essentials, charity in all things.”

This phrase is often attributed to Augustine of Hippo, albeit incorrectly. Rupertus Meldenius, or Peter Meiderlin under his Latinised pen name, is most likely the first to use this specific phrasing, writing:

“In necessariis unitas, in non necessariis libertas, in omnibus caritas.”

Meldenius was not attempting to minimise doctrine. He was attempting to save the Church from tearing itself apart through internal dispute. His concern was survival without theological surrender. This is not a soft phrase, nor a lazy one. It is a call away from needless division. When used properly, it may be one of the most graceful post-Reformation instincts we can recover.

We must know which theological hills we would stake our lives on.
We must know in which valleys we can disagree.
And we must never permit disagreement to rob us of love.

If we are serious about grace in theological difference, then we need more than goodwill. We need biblical understanding, ecclesial clarity, and the humility to admit that even the wisest and most godly among us may arrive at different conclusions while reading the same Scriptures.

This is not a call to minimise doctrine, nor an invitation to pretend our differences do not matter. It is a call to order our theology faithfully. Scripture does not place every conviction in the same category, and the unity of the Church is not sustained by uniformity on every point. The gospel gives us our centre, conviction gives shape to the life of the Church, and grace governs how we live with disagreement. Baptism, which we will return to later, will serve as a serious test case for whether this kind of unity is something we genuinely believe is possible.

Unity in Christ, Yes. Total Agreement, Sometimes.

The New Testament consistently places Christian unity around a shared centre, Christ himself, rather than around exhaustive doctrinal uniformity.

Paul reminds the Corinthians that the Church stands on a single foundation: Jesus Christ (1 Corinthians 3:11). For those of us who prefer neat theological alignment, this can be uncomfortable, particularly as we consider what diverse theologies we can build on that foundation. The broader context of 1 Corinthians 3:5–15 appears to show that with some reliability people from different backgrounds will build differently on that same foundation. Some work will endure. Some will not. And yet salvation rests on Christ alone, not on perfect theological construction.

Difference, then, is a shocking and beautiful human reality.

When Paul urges the Ephesians to maintain unity, he does not provide an exhaustive systematic theology or a detailed confession. Instead, he calls them back to what they already share: one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one Spirit (Ephesians 4:4–5). Unity flows from shared allegiance before it flows from shared conclusions. We define who our brothers and sisters are before we define the architecture of the house we live in.

The Church, at least in Paul’s view, is united because it belongs to Christ, not because it has resolved every theological tension.

Scripture Makes Distinctions, and So Must We

It is difficult to hold a church together. It is remarkably easy to cause a split. One of the quickest ways to divide a church is to treat every disagreement with equal seriousness. Scripture does not do this, and neither should we.

If we claim to have our theologies entirely settled, without openness to challenge from faithful opposing views, we may discover that our convictions are more fragile than we realised. This can be difficult to recognise in ourselves, especially where our thinking has become most calloused. Yet when we allow others to reach in with the same grace and love we hope to extend to them, our theology is not weakened but refined.

The New Testament treats issues with varying weight. Some truths are of first importance (1 Corinthians 15:3–4). Others shape church order, discipleship, and practice without determining salvation. Still others are matters of wisdom and conscience where difference is not only permitted but expected.

If we treat everything as essential, we form denominations over the colour of the carpet or the presence of guitars in worship. If we treat nothing as essential, we drift into a functional universalism that robs the gospel of clarity. Grace requires discernment, not flattening, and it demands that we do not exclude God’s children over secondary matters.

Romans 14 and Biblical Grace in Disagreement

Romans 14 is perhaps the clearest and most sustained example of how the Church is meant to live with unresolved disagreement. Paul addresses disputes over food laws and sacred days, issues rooted in Scripture, cultural identity, covenant history, and lifetimes of obedience. These were not casual preferences; they were generational convictions bound deeply to conscience.

Paul writes:

“As for the one who is weak in faith, welcome him, but not to quarrel over opinions” (Romans 14:1, ESV).

Welcome precedes resolution.

“One person believes he may eat anything, while the weak person eats only vegetables. Let not the one who eats despise the one who abstains, and let not the one who abstains pass judgment on the one who eats, for God has welcomed him” (Romans 14:2–3, ESV).

The logic is grounded in grace. God has welcomed the believer. The Church does not get to undo that welcome.

Paul then asks a question that destabilises every attempt at theological policing:

“Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another? It is before his own master that he stands or falls. And he will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make him stand” (Romans 14:4, ESV).

Paul does not deny that one position may be stronger. He denies that strength grants the right to judge faithfulness.

He continues:

“One person esteems one day as better than another, while another esteems all days alike. Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind… For if we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord” (Romans 14:5–8, ESV).

Paul dignifies conscience without collapsing truth. Accountability belongs to the Lord.

He closes the section by reminding us where judgment truly lies:

“So then each of us will give an account of himself to God” (Romans 14:12, ESV).

Paul does not force consensus. He preserves unity by welcoming believers who disagree.

Romans 14 teaches us that faithful Christians may disagree, sometimes deeply; not all disagreements threaten the gospel; and unity is preserved by welcome, not exclusion.

This is not softness. It is difficult, humbling wisdom.

The Cost of Unity

This way of holding unity is not easy, nor is it instinctive. It requires emotional maturity, a willingness to relinquish control, and the courage to live with unresolved tension. It asks us to trust that the Spirit of God is at work in the Church over time, not only through our ability to resolve every disagreement in the moment. Unity of this kind is not the path of least resistance. It is a costly act of faith, chosen not because it feels safer, but because we believe Christ is Lord of his Church.

Baptism Within Romans 14 Logic

Baptism is not trivial, but does it have to be faith-defining? Does one’s view of baptism exclude them from salvation or belonging to the body of Christ? Is it the water that saves, or the grace it points toward?

Baptism is commanded by Christ. It shapes discipleship. It marks belonging to the Church. All of this means it must be taken seriously.

And yet Scripture does not treat the precise subject or timing of baptism as a condition of salvation, nor as the basis for recognising someone as a Christian. The disagreement is not whether to baptise, but how obedience is most faithfully expressed.

Some baptise infants, emphasising God’s initiative, covenant continuity, household inclusion, and formative grace. Others baptise believers upon confession, emphasising repentance, faith, and embodied testimony. These are not careless positions, nor are they competing gospels. They are different convictions about how to practise an act commanded by Christ.

Just as with other matters, Romans 14 gives us a framework for holding this tension with grace and love, recognising the opposing view as sincere, obedient, and theologically serious. When we slip into language that equates interpretive disagreement with spiritual deficiency, we move beyond conviction into condemnation. Paul allows that one position may be more compelling, but he refuses to allow that judgment of faithfulness belongs to anyone other than Christ himself.

Grace Does Not Negate Conviction

Grace in non-essentials does not mean the Church has no shape. It does not require vagueness or theological blur.

A healthy church must be able to define what makes someone a Christian, welcome people into fellowship, and discern who shapes doctrine and practice. A church may hold clear convictions while practising generosity toward those who disagree. Grace forbids confusing conviction with condemnation.

Unity does not require identical practice everywhere. It requires shared submission to Christ.

Unity at the Table: The Tangible Grace of the Lord’s Supper

We should not allow secondary differences to keep us from the Table. Breaking bread together and remembering what Christ has done is central to who we are. This is another area where Christians differ, and we should be honest about that. Still, we are called to unity here.

Paul describes communion as participation in Christ himself:

“Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body” (1 Corinthians 10:17, ESV).

The Table is not a reward for theological precision, but neither is it detached from accountability and care. Grace here is not laxity. It is careful welcome under the lordship of Christ.

Jesus intensifies this further when he teaches that reconciliation takes precedence even over worship:

“If you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you… first be reconciled to your brother” (Matthew 5:23–24, ESV).

The Lord’s Table brings this teaching into focus. Communion is not a private spiritual act; it is a shared proclamation that we belong to one another because we belong to Christ. To allow secondary disagreements to harden into distance or judgment is to undermine the unity the Table proclaims.

Grace Is Cruciform, Not Indifferent

The cross remains the Church’s final corrective.

The disciples misunderstood Jesus profoundly, even with Scripture in hand and Christ at the table with them. And yet they were not expelled. They were taught, corrected, and restored.

“Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up” (1 Corinthians 8:1, ESV).

Grace does not make error harmless. It makes correction patient. It refuses to turn truth into a weapon, choosing instead the slow work of love.

Why This Matters

In an increasingly fractured Church, unity is often pursued either by force or by silence. Neither is biblical.

True unity grows where Christ is central, convictions are named, and love governs disagreement.

Unity in essentials.
Liberty in non-essentials.
Charity in all things.

Not because truth is fragile,
but because the Church belongs to Christ.