There’s a problem in the way many of us think about our role in the Church. We hide. We give in to what we think we’re supposed to be. We feel the pressure to change, to fit in, to match the image of whatever group we’ve attached ourselves to. And while things may be improving in some places, we still cling to the idea that unity means shared belief — that everyone must think alike, act alike, and agree on everything for the Church to be whole.

But if we truly believe that Jesus is God, then we have to admit something humbling: our lives are only a faint aroma of His, not a full manifestation. That doesn’t mean we stop trying to walk in His ways. It means we adjust our expectations. We’ve created this picture of spiritual growth where wisdom comes from quiet daily Bible study and a passive, peaceful life. But maybe the better image is a skateboarder trying a new stunt — falling, scraping, trying again — when it comes to putting Jesus’ words into practice.

Why? Because there’s no failure in daily Bible reading. You can read for years and never risk anything. But when you try to live what Jesus taught, you will fail. Repeatedly. And that’s where learning happens. That’s where humility is born. And that’s where God reveals Himself to those who earnestly seek Him.

This humility is the foundation of the eclectic church — the Church Jesus actually gave us. In a world that feeds our pride and inflates our egos, we need a shared humility if we’re ever going to restore the Church to what it was meant to be. Think about the Pharisee and the publican. The difference between them wasn’t their theology. It was how they saw God in relation to themselves. And it was the publican who went home justified.

One of the most eclectic communities I’ve ever been part of was the United States Navy. People from every walk of life, every income bracket, every background. The Navy makes it work by giving everyone a new culture — a shared identity that replaces the old ones. In Christ, we’ve been given a shared culture too, but we’ve corrupted it. We’ve convinced ourselves that the Church is about doing good deeds, and therefore the more money you have, the more good you can do. But Scripture says we will always have the poor. So, who is Jesus trying to change — the poor or us? I believe it’s us.

Ministry was meant to change the minister. Doing good deeds is supposed to make you more like Jesus. But many people think ministry is for the people being served, not for the one doing the serving. And because of that, we miss the point entirely.

So why aren’t we more interested in having different kinds of people in our churches? Why do we still treat some people as “unclean” when Jesus has already declared them holy? I once worshiped at a church that tried hard to include everyone. One Sunday, a woman felt so comfortable she took off her shirt and bra right in the middle of service. It was handled quickly, but it reminded me of the Jerusalem council — how they set only a few rules so the churched and unchurched could gather together. “Clothes required” would have made their list. But they kept the rules minimal on purpose.

That’s the kind of humility we need. A dose of reality that knocks our ego down a notch. The kind that gives us the strength to tolerate real differences and respect the diversity God has placed in His Church. This is the heart of the eclectic church — shared humility, shared dependence, shared grace.

When you stop and think about it, the only real difference between the Pharisee and the publican was this: one believed he had already arrived, and the other knew he hadn’t. The eclectic church is built by people who know they haven’t arrived — people who fall, get up, and try again. People who seek Jesus earnestly, even when they fail. People who understand that unity isn’t sameness, and holiness isn’t conformity.

It’s a journey. But it’s the only one that leads us home.

© 2026 H. Duane Black. All rights reserved.