Introduction

Singing in a choir is a lot different than singing as a worship leader. When I lead worship, the point is that I sing in a way that people can hear me to help guide people through a song. But singing in a choir is different because the point isn’t to stand out for everyone to admire you as an individual, but to blend into the larger sound, bringing admiration for the choir as a whole and for the conductor. What would happen if each member of a choir decided that they wanted to do their own thing? The musical performance would lack cohesion, and we would pity the poor conductor whose job seems about as fruitful as trying to herd cats.

Church is a lot like a choir. The church is a collection of separate people who are supposed to work at a single task. Of course, in a choir not everyone is singing the same thing, but all of the various parts are meant to compliment each other. So it is in the church. The Spirit has given us a wide variety of skills and passions, but they are meant to harmonize, allowing the church to shape its individual members and to show the world around the wisdom of God. To be a part of a successful choir means being willing not to seem more important than the other members so that everyone shines. In the same way, the church can only be true to its mission when people set aside their need for personal recognition to serve the body. Finally, a choir answers to a conductor. They set the agenda, they determine who sings what and how. In the same way, the church has a single conductor—the Holy Spirit—who needs to be calling the shots.

In both the choir and the church, then, success requires a willingness to humble ourselves in order to foster unity. This is the key lesson that Paul turns to at the beginning of Chapter 2 of his letter to the church in Philippi. He explains how the unity of the church is only possible when we follow the humble example of Jesus:

Therefore if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any common sharing in the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others. 

In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death— even death on a cross! 

Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. 

Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed—not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence—continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose. 

Do everything without grumbling or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, “children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation.” Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky as you hold firmly to the word of life. And then I will be able to boast on the day of Christ that I did not run or labor in vain. But even if I am being poured out like a drink offering on the sacrifice and service coming from your faith, I am glad and rejoice with all of you. So you too should be glad and rejoice with me (Philippians 2:1–18, NIV).

I. Unity in Diversity

I’ve talked a lot about the difficulty of unity and diversity. We might wonder what it looks like for the church to be unified while also being diverse. The picture of the church at the end of time found in the book of Revelation shapes our understanding of what the church is trying to be today:

After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. And they cried out in a loud voice: 

“Salvation belongs to our God,
who sits on the throne,
and to the Lamb.” (Revelation 7:9–10, NIV)

The church is meant to include people from every language group (the Tower of Babel story shows just how hard it is to make that work), along with every ethnic group and nation. (Our current political context shows the difficulty in making that work). The differences might make the whole thing spiral out of control, but they are held together by a common centre: the Lamb whom they worship and serve. The unity that we must have is grounded in the character of God. So let’s briefly look at the Character of God.

A. Unity and Diversity in God

The single most important insight in Judaism was the idea of monotheism, that there is only one God, expressed in the Shema, The Jewish Creed, found inDeuteronomy 6:4: “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one.” God is one. And yet the New Testament speaks of a mystery of God being both singular and plural: We see this in the opening line of John’s Gospel: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (Jn.1:1, NIV). Somehow the Word (Jesus) is both God and with God. Later, the Holy Spirit is also identified with God.

Theologians pondering this great mystery took several hundred years to find language to express it. Father, Son and Holy are one substance but three persons. Conceptually, theologians talk about this relationship between Father, Son and Spirit as a dance. Each person wants to take every opportunity to allow the other two to shine. They constantly glorify others rather than seeking to glorify themselves. This dance is possible because of a fundamental humility in God: The three persons of the Holy Trinity are secure enough in who they are that they have no need to prove anything to anyone. Pride would be overcompensation. For God to try to prove how important he is would be beneath him. 

If God is fundamentally humble, then it shouldn’t be surprising that when he pitched his tent with us (John’s words), he was humble. The Father could have arranged for Jesus to be born in a palace to wealthy parents, but instead, Jesus was born among the animals to peasants. The Father could have made sure he was educated at the right schools, but Jesus was educated in carpentry, not theology. The Father could have sent the angel choirs to tell the High Priest, the scribes and the teachers of the Law that Jesus was the promised King they had all been waiting for. Instead, God sent the angel host to the shepherds. God could have sent Jesus to Tiberius Caesar with the demand to “Let my people go!” and then struck the Roman authorities with the plagues that God brought onto the Egyptians. But instead, Jesus confronts the powers of this world with a cross. Because Jesus has nothing to prove, he can act in a way that builds others up, rather than demanding that he get what is in his interest.

B. Two Visions of Greatness

Verses 6:-11—called the Christ hymn by scholars—set up a contrast between God’s humility and human pride. In verse 6, the NIV says, “[Jesus] ​​did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage”. The Greek word underlying “used to his own advantage’ is ‘grasped.’ The meaning of this isn’t obvious, so the translation tries to be helpful by interpreting what it means, But this hides the connection Paul is trying to make with another Biblical text. 

Many scholars believe ‘grasping’ is a subtle allusion to the story of the fall in Genesis 3. Adam was a mere human. He grasped after the forbidden fruit in disobedience to God’s command. So the grasping wasn’t just fruit, he was usurping God’s authority, and so, in a manner, he was grasping after divinity. Each of us has done the same. We have been given instruction by God, but we prefer our own way and so we’ve taken for ourselves an authority that belongs to God. Jesus, by comparison, is God, but instead of grasping after what doesn’t belong to him, he gives up what belongs to him, emptying himself. Jesus gives up his power, his glory, and eventually his life to the will of the Father. 

This reveals a great paradox: We strive for divinity because we assume that it allows us to do what we want. But when we encounter true divinity in Jesus, we see that he surrenders what he wants for our sake. “Not my will but yours be done,” (Lk.22:42) Jesus prays in the Garden of Gethsemane immediately before his arrest. Adam tried to take what Jesus freely offered. We are humans who tend to grasp after divinity. But through Jesus, we become adopted children of God, and since we have been glorified, we demonstrate that glory as Jesus demonstrates it, by giving ourselves in love for others.

This is why the example of Jesus is so central. To be a Christian means to set aside our participation in Adam’s story and instead to clothe ourselves in Jesus’ story. Jesus is secure in his divinity and that allows him to be humble. In the same way, our security in our standing with God allows us to be humble. If we truly believe we have become beloved children of God, we have no need to do things that exalt ourselves, because there can be no greater exaltation than the Father saying, “You are my beloved child. In you I am well pleased.”

C. Unity and Diversity in the Church

The most regrettable things that happen in church–the pettiness and the hypocrisy–often happen because we have failed to understand and internalize our true identity in Christ. When we don’t realize that we have nothing to prove, we may set out to prove how great we are. This is a force that tears the system apart. It’s like centrifugal force (from which we get the word centrifuge) in which inertia pushes us away from the centre of gravity.

Selfishness—the need to be important at others’ expense—rips us from the system like a stone spun in a sling shoots away if it slips from the pouch. When churches are filled with people who want to feel important, conflict and disunity are inevitable. People want to be in charge, not because they desire to serve, but for the recognition they get. People want everyone to know that they are more pious. Their sense of self is grounded in how they compare to others. This fosters competition not unity. People don’t want to do the jobs that are seen as unimportant because they fear doing them will make them unimportant.

Humility has the opposite effect. Humility is like centripetal force, because it pushes us towards the centre, and that centre is God. As we move closer to God, there’s also a corollary. We also move closer together. The diverse community of the church quickly breaks apart when one person or group wants to be more important than others. But something wonderful happens when we humbly submit ourselves to one another out of reverence for Christ. Paul tells us, ‘in humility value others above yourself.’ It’s not that every other person in the church is better than you, after all, Jesus really was better, but he humbly served; it’s that as we adopt that posture towards each other, we begin to strive to serve each other. A community where everyone willingly serves one another is a community overflowing with blessings. Yes, we serve, but we are also served, so we don’t feel exploited. Because everyone serves, no one feels like their service lowers them in anyone else’s eyes. And when we serve, something unexpected happens: we begin to love the people we serve.

I remember when I was in my twenties and had just moved to a new community and started going to a new church. But after a few months there, I didn’t really feel close to anyone. I questioned whether I wanted to serve in a church where I didn’t feel like I belonged. But I started serving and discovered that I had put the cart before the horse. Instead of waiting to feel like I belonged to start serving, when I served, then I felt like I belonged. When we’ve made investments in the lives of others, they become dearer to us. This is one of the reasons why parents love our kids so much: We’ve invested so much of ourselves in them. This is also why when you’ve been through tough times with a friend, you love them more. Not just when your friend was there for you, but when you’ve been there for them, you feel more invested in their lives, and so you care more.

So all of this is to say that rather than being Adam, trying to make ourselves into Gods, we are invited to be like Jesus, a beloved child of God. Out of that secure identity in Jesus, we can embrace a life of humble service that fosters unity and belonging in the church.

D. The Paradox of Humility and Glory

So when we humble ourselves, we find unity and belonging, but we also share in God’s glory. Notice the wonderful paradox at the heart of the hymn: [Jesus] humbled himself by becoming obedient to death–even death on a cross! Therefore God exalted him to the highest place…(Philippians 2:9-10a, NIV). Jesus’ glorification is a consequence of his humiliation. Jesus surrenders his divine glory and dies a horrible death because it was God’s will. So God glorifies him, but the glory also reflects back on God. The hymn ends by explaining that Jesus’ glory redounds to the glory of God.

As we follow Jesus’ example, the same thing happens. If we embrace the way of humility in obedience to God, God will exalt us. As James tells us, “Humble yourself before the Lord, and he will lift you up (Jm.4:10, NIV). As we humble ourselves, we are glorified, but that glory is grounded in Jesus’ glory. Our glory is not our own, we share it with God. If we seek our own glory, we will be humbled. But if we humble ourselves, we will participate in Christ’s glory.

II. Serving Humbly in the Church

A. Don’t Grumble

What does it look like for us to have a posture of humility? The first example comes directly from Paul, who instructs the believers to do everything without grumbling. I know as a parent, when I ask my children to do something, and they grumble, it communicates to me that they’re not willingly doing what I ask. It says, “I’m only doing this because I’m being forced to, not because I value you.”

In the same way, when we serve in the church with grumbling, we communicate a lack of care for those we serve. “Fine, I’ll set up tables and chairs for the meal. I don’t know why we have to do this.” Grumbling shows that the needs of the community are less important than our personal convenience. To be fair, I don’t hear grumbling. We might grumble as kids and teenagers, but by the time we become adults, we realize that it makes us look childish, so we don’t grumble, at least in public. But maybe in our private conversations or in our own hearts, we grumble about what we put up with. It’s easy to do, but it’s grounded in a sense of self-importance. But if we serve together, we learn to love. As we learn to love each other, we’ll be less inclined to grumble.

B. Listen & Understand

Another way we can humble ourselves, especially in our times of disunity and anger, is to be quick to listen and slow to speak. Any diverse group is going to have people who see issues differently. So there are bound to be cultural, political, and religious differences inside any church. Our culture of outrage and conflicts encourages us to categorize people and either agree with them or reject their views without taking the time to try to understand them. We must work to understand people we disagree with.

If you can’t explain why they feel the way they do in a way that fairly summarizes their views, then you’re not really hearing them. That doesn’t mean you’ll agree with them in the end, but that at least you have a sense of how they got to where they are. We see this every day in questions of public policy, like questions about how much regulation is appropriate, or how public funds should best be spent. Do we at least try to understand where people are coming from when they disagree with us?

But these divisions are especially fraught on questions of faith. There are many theological questions that sharply divide Christians today: Are some positions of authority in the church reserved for men, or can women do anything men can do? Does the Spirit still give the gift of tongues to the church, or are tongues-speakers crazy or even demonic? Should the church exclude LGBTQ people from worship, or leadership or should they be fully welcomed members of the community? Does God decide who is saved and who is not, or does he allow us to freely choose? All of these questions can (and do) tear contemporary churches apart. This isn’t new, though. Historically, Christians resorted to violence against other Christians over disagreements relating to communion and baptism and to the structure of church authority.

I don’t mean to say that we can’t take positions on issues. But we have to recognize that not everyone will agree with us. We owe it to those people to at least try to understand why they believe what they believe. We owe it to continue to treat them as brothers and sisters if they believe in good faith, even if we think they’re wrong. After all, we’re probably all wrong about some of what we believe (the problem is that we don’t know specifically what we’re wrong about) so we need to have the humility to extend patience and respect to others, even when we disagree.

Conclusion

So let me bring us back to where we began, to the image of the choir. A choir only works when the singers trust the conductor, listen to one another, and are willing to sing their part without trying to outshine the rest. No one applauds the alto section for being louder than the sopranos. No one congratulates the tenors for ignoring the conductor and doing their own thing. The beauty comes when many voices, different voices, offer themselves to a single piece of music. And when that happens, something greater than any one voice fills the room.

That is Paul’s vision for the church. Not uniformity, but harmony. Not silencing difference, but ordering our differences around a shared centre. And that centre is not our preferences, our politics, our traditions, or our need to feel important. The centre is Jesus Christ, the one who did not grasp at his rights, but emptied himself in love.

When we forget who we are in Christ, we start grasping. We argue, we grumble, we compete, we divide. But when we remember that we are already beloved children of God, already welcomed, already secure, we are finally free to stop proving ourselves. Free to serve. Free to listen. Free to value others above ourselves. Free to sing our part with joy.

So the invitation before us is simple, but not easy. Will we choose the way of Adam, grasping for importance, or the way of Jesus, trusting the Father enough to let go? Will we be a church where people strain to be heard, or a church where people are eager to serve? Will we grumble quietly in our hearts, or will we rejoice that we get to be part of something larger than ourselves?

The good news is that we are not asked to do this on our own strength. “It is God who works in you,” Paul reminds us, “to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose.” The same Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead is the conductor of this choir. Our task is not to control the music, but to listen, to follow, and to offer ourselves. And when we do, the world will hear something rare. Not noise. Not chaos. But a living harmony that points beyond itself: A church that sounds, in its life together, like good news.