Philippians 3:1

And the LORD God said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an help meet for him... And the rib, which the LORD God had taken from man, made he a woman, and brought her unto the man. And Adam said, This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh... Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh. And they were both naked, the man and his wife, and were not ashamed. (Genesis 2:18, 21–25)

Designed for community, broken by sin, and remade in Christ—how God uses His people to heal one another.

It Is Not Good to Be Alone

Life in connection with one another is part of our mission at Cross Connection Church, and the first question is why. Why does it matter? The first answer is this: it is not good to be alone.

In Genesis 2, the Lord placed the man in the garden and gave him one command—not to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Then He said, "It is not good for man to be alone. I will make a helper corresponding to him." Notice this comes before sin. Everything is perfect, everything is good, except for one thing—and God said it was not good.

As with almost everything, God realizes this long before Adam does, and He leads Adam to the same conclusion through circumstances. God forms every animal and bird and brings them to Adam to name. As Adam names the rooster and hen, the boar and sow, the bull and cow, he sees that everything comes in a pair—and he is alone. That's when Adam reaches the conclusion God already knew.

So God causes a deep sleep to fall on Adam, takes a rib, and forms the woman. Adam says, "This at last is bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh." That phrase "at last" tells us it took a while. There they were, naked and unashamed—no distance, no defense, no hiding. Everything wide open. That is not the case for us now.

We see here a perfect community. We see that God Himself is community—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, three distinct persons in one God—who created us to be in community. It is not good for man to be alone, and it is not good for us to be alone. So God creates others and places us around each other.

It Is Hard to Be Together

Adam and Eve had one rule: don't eat from that one tree. Everything else was permissible. Wouldn't life be easier if we had only one rule? And yet they broke it.

The first thing they did was realize they were naked, so they sewed fig leaves and made coverings. The first instinct after sin was, "I need to protect myself. I can no longer be wide open." Now there is shame, hiding, and embarrassment. The first sin enters and wrecks everything, and the first consequence is shame.

Then they heard the Lord walking in the garden and hid among the trees. It is an ironic picture—they are in God's garden, in God's creation, thinking they can hide. That's another effect of sin: we're convinced we can hide its effects, that we can cover up our sin with an even greater fig leaf, pretending, "That's not me."

God asks, "Where are you?" Adam says he was afraid because he was naked, so he hid. God's first question isn't "What did you do?" but "Who told you you were naked?" Then comes the second consequence: personal responsibility evaded. Adam blames the woman; Eve blames the serpent. Sin distances us from God and breaks the community we have with each other. This is still the case today.

One Generation From the Garden

In Genesis 4, Cain and Abel both bring sacrifices. God regards Abel's but not Cain's. It wasn't a problem with the kind of sacrifice—it was the heart. Abel offered with the right heart; Cain did not. God in His kindness comes to Cain: "Why are you furious? If you do what is right, won't you be accepted? But if you do not, sin is crouching at your door. Its desire is for you, but you must rule over it."

That is still the picture of sin we deal with today. Sin crouches like a lion, waiting, wanting to destroy us, and we must master it or it will master us. Cain is left with a choice—and he chooses to murder Abel.

We are one generation from Eden, one generation removed from perfect connection between two humans, and already we have a sibling murder. Cain decided it was easier to murder his brother than to do the right thing. We often choose the same way. For us, it is sometimes easier to murder a relationship than to ask forgiveness or give forgiveness. "I'm never talking to that person again"—we take the relationship and kill it rather than deal with our sin or forgive.

Abel was killed for doing the right thing. Often we will be treated the same way. Doing right is frequently unpopular—with sinners, and unfortunately sometimes even among saints. Sometimes all we do is the right thing, and we still suffer the consequences.

When Cain says, "Am I my brother's guardian?" the answer is yes—we are responsible for each other. When we are not held responsible for our actions, we only get worse, and the more influence we have, the wider sin's effects spread. Adultery destroys two families; when one is Bathsheba and the other King David, the effects are far wider. Lying destroys relationships; lying by someone with political power can result in war and the death of millions.

We Need Jesus Desperately

The only cure for sin and its effects is Jesus. The law does not work. As of 2020, California had 395,608 regulatory restrictions—so all our problems must be solved, right? Yet in 2024 alone we added 890 new bills as of January 1st. The problem is that the law cannot change the human heart. It can try to restrict it, but it cannot change it.

The law shows our guilt. Galatians 3:24–26 says the law was our guardian—a schoolmaster to drive us to Christ—until Christ came. The law lays out structures we cannot fulfill. Get to human law and you even find laws that contradict each other and are applied unjustly. The only cure for sin is not the law; it is Jesus.

Jesus sets us free from the guilt of law-breaking by paying our price. Our sin was a death sentence; if we were put to death, that would only be our just deserts. Jesus, who never sinned, suffered and died as a sinner and rose again, buying our freedom from sin and death. The moment we accept that, we are given the position of being guiltless before God.

So as the body of Christ we now have a bond. Positionally, we are guiltless—God sees not our sin but the blood of Christ. We are like Adam and Eve in the garden before the fall. Experientially, we know we still stink at being guiltless, finding ways to be guilty over and over. So where do we learn to be more like Jesus, the second Adam?

God Uses Us to Help Each Other

God gives us gifts, talents, and abilities meant to be used in community. Romans 12 says we are many parts in one body, individually members of one another, with different gifts—prophecy, service, teaching (possibly even in the children's ministry), exhortation, giving, leading, mercy.

We are one single organism with many parts, and each part is important even when we don't know why. Sometimes we look around and can't see a person's purpose. We treat them the way we used to treat the tonsils or the appendix—weird, useless parts to be removed. But as our medical wisdom grows, we learn those organs have real functions. Are there people with no purpose? Not at all. God placed every one of us in the body on purpose, with gifts to build the whole.

Do we sometimes feel useless? Yes—but that is no more true of you than of anyone else. Every one of us is vital, and each part affects all the others. When one part suffers, all suffer. Stub your toe and your whole body feels it. In Castaway, Tom Hanks' abscessed tooth makes his entire life miserable.

There are times when we are not okay, when some part of the body needs treatment. We would never look at someone with a broken arm and say, "Why don't you do your part and help carry this?" Yet too often, when someone in the body is having a hard time, we decide they're just not pulling their weight. No—we are there to minister to each other, to bear one another's burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ. Every part is valuable. Some gifts seem cooler than others, and we may wish we had a different one, but we don't get to make that call. God uses the gifts He gives His body to build His body. That is life in connection.

Unity Requires Effort

Ephesians 4 urges us to walk worthy of our calling with all humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another in love, "making every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace." There is one body, one Spirit, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all.

Notice that these gifts—patience, kindness, gentleness—are not for the individual but for the body. I don't need patience with myself; I need it with other people. They are meant to be used in community.

"Making every effort" means it is going to be work. Too often we want unity to show up as a feeling before it shows up as a practice. But the feeling follows the action. Unity is hard. It is not natural in a sinful world or among a sinful people. It requires constant focus and looking for ways to show it.

I saw a reel where a woman asked a man if he'd noticed any red cars on his drive to work. "Probably." Then she asked, "If I'd offered you $50 for every red car you saw, would you remember?" "Oh yeah, every single one." That's intention. Unity is out there; we have to look for opportunities to build and hold onto it in the bond of peace. We are one body, the Church of Jesus Christ, yet constantly pushing each other away, putting on fig leaves to hide—marked by dysfunction. And still God calls us to unity. It does not just happen. It requires work.

Put Off, Put On, Forgive

Colossians 3 is full of action verbs—things we are called to do. "If you have been raised with Christ, seek the things above where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above." First seek the godly things, then set your mind on them—because our flesh wants to look everywhere else. We have to place our minds there deliberately.

Then, "put to death what belongs to your earthly nature: sexual immorality, impurity, lust, evil desire, and greed, which is idolatry." Putting to death requires effort—driving a stake through it and leaving it dead. All these things break community and distort connection.

But he doesn't only tell us to put off; he tells us to put on—the word carries the idea of putting on a uniform or armor. "Put on the new self," being renewed in the image of your Creator, where there is no Jew or Greek, barbarian or Scythian, slave or free; Christ is all and in all.

Then verse 13: "bearing with one another, forgiving one another. If anyone has a grievance against another, just as the Lord forgave you, so you also must forgive." This is vital. He does not say wait for the person to ask, or go tell them you forgive them. He says forgive them. Forgiveness is saying, "Lord, I will not hold this against them anymore; I'm erasing it from my heart." Unforgiveness is too heavy for any of us to carry—it hampers every step.

I'm really good at trying to carry it: "That person did this." And God says, forgive them. "But they don't even know why." They don't have to know. You're not forgiving them for them, or even for you—you're forgiving them for God, because He forgave you. That's hard, but that's the point. Take off that weight.

"Above all, put on love, which is the perfect bond of unity. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts." So when the opportunity arises to lash out—at children, a spouse, anyone—put on love, forgive, and let Christ's peace rule.

This doesn't come naturally. When I became a Christian, I'd been working the trucking docks with a horrendous mouth. The moment I was saved, the cussing was simply gone—I never even prayed for it. My wife pointed it out, and it took me aback. But God left me other things. I was a smoker, and quitting was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I'm convinced He let me struggle so I'd know never to pick it up again—because if I did, I'd be a smoker again in a second. It required work.

Let the Word Dwell Among You

"Let the word of Christ dwell richly among you—not just in you—in all wisdom, teaching and admonishing one another through psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs, singing to God with gratitude in your hearts." Thankfulness brackets the whole thought.

Part of a pastor's role is to teach, but that does not exempt the rest of the body from teaching and admonishing one another. It is a gift and a calling. There was a time I was asked to teach and said, "You're out of your mind, I'm never doing that." God chuckles. We don't teach because of a position; we teach because we're Christians. None of us gets to dump it on "those guys with the gift."

We're short on time, so we'll skip past the instructions to wives, husbands, parents, and slaves in verses 18 and following—read those on your own, or if you're a glutton for punishment, read them with your spouse and ask, "Do you feel like you submit to me? Do you feel I love you as Christ loved the church? Want to go get coffee?"

But look at verse 23: "Whatever you do, do it from the heart, as something done for the Lord and not for people." I'm convinced one reason He says that is because if we were doing it for people, we'd quit by the third time. Tell someone they shouldn't act the way they're acting, and you might get a punch in the nose. But if we do it for God, we'll take those painful, embarrassing steps even when we feel unqualified—because God put it on our heart. He wants unity, but not unity at the expense of love. "You will receive the reward of an inheritance from the Lord; you serve the Lord Christ."

Then, anticipating our objection: "The wrongdoer will be paid back for whatever wrong he has done, and there is no favoritism." That is His responsibility, not ours. Sometimes we want to be the ones to make people pay. We are hurt in ways almost impossible to recover from, and we crave justice. Someone recently said how hard it is that horrendous criminals can simply repent at the end and God will welcome them. That's hard to wrestle with. We don't like the thought that Jeffrey Dahmer could say, "Jesus, I'm sorry," and that be enough.

But Jesus sees enough value in each of us that His sacrifice is worth it, no matter what we've done. None of us is so distant that God says, "I have no use for you anymore." It's easy to look at Dahmer and say he's not worth it—while thinking I'm kind of a catch. God sees enough value in every one of us that His sacrifice was worth it.

The Cliff's Notes Version

If you need the short version, it's Ephesians 4:32—the verse to write on a Post-it, stick on your mirror, and memorize: "Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving one another, just as God also forgave you in Christ."

That is the best way to have unity and connection in the body of Christ: be kind, tender-hearted, and forgiving, because we will continue to need to give and receive forgiveness in order to live life in connection. Without that, unity is impossible.

Being Part of the Body Is Not Optional

Point five: not being an active part of the body is defying God. God has called all of us who are Christians to be part of His body. When we choose not to be an active part, we are defying God—and when we defy God, that is sin. He calls all of us to fill the role He's given, to be kind, forgiving, and tender-hearted toward one another.

In Matthew 28, Jesus' last words to His disciples are: "Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe everything I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age."

People are the mission. People are also the problem—God sends us out to people because people are problems. But the amazing thing is that God uses people to bring the solution. We are in every part of this equation: we are the mission, we are the problem, and we carry the solution with us. So go and make disciples, teach them to do what Jesus taught, and remember that Jesus is with us always. Let's worship together. Amen.