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Paul's vision for the church, a new humanity in Christ
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We live in a fragmented world, and people are divided over the important stuff.
I wonder whether you prefer voice notes or texting. Whether you're the sort of person who gets up at your first alarm or snoozes it loads of times. Whether you scrunch or fold your toilet paper. And when you watch your favourite shows, do you have the subtitles on or off? I read the other day that 80% of Gen Z watch TV all the time with the subtitles on — which made me feel very young and cool.
But we see division all around us today, not just in our light-hearted preferences, but in the issues that shape our daily life. We're divided over issues of race, class, culture, generation, education. We disagree about how to respond to global conflict, how to care for the sick and the future of the NHS, over immigration and borders, over the cost of living and economic policy. And who has noticed the tube strikes in London recently?
We live in a time where division is rarely contained. It travels, it spreads, it impacts our daily lives. We see it on the news, we see it on social media. We're more connected than ever digitally, but we find ourselves disconnected relationally.
A study in 2025 found that 85% of British adults say the UK is divided, and more than half think it's our political differences that pose a threat to society. We know how to form tribes, but we don't know how to be one people.
This isn't new. All throughout the history of the church we've seen this struggle. The reasons have varied — doctrine, worship practices, geography, language, politics, culture. But time and again we've seen that disagreement and division lead to separation.
When Paul wrote his letter to the Ephesians, this is exactly what he was seeing. The church in Ephesus was made up of people from vastly different backgrounds — Jews and Gentiles, on either side of the biggest division in the ancient world. The church was full of division, separation, and hostility.
Ephesus itself was a diverse and influential city, and the people there found themselves pulled by religion, culture, and status in several different directions. I wonder if you sometimes feel a bit like that living in London.
The good news is that when Paul writes to the Ephesians, his letter is full of hope, vision, and confidence in God. Paul challenges the idea that disagreement means hostility, and instead paints a beautiful vision of unity in the church.
Paul believes disagreement and hostility do not have to go hand in hand. Through Jesus, there is another way. Through Jesus, God is forming a new humanity, and we as the church are how the world sees a glimpse of that humanity now.
"But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions — it is by grace you have been saved. And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith — and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God — not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do." (Ephesians 2:4–10)
"But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he himself is our peace, who has made the two groups one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility, by setting aside in his flesh the law with its commands and regulations. His purpose was to create in himself one new humanity out of the two, thus making peace, and in one body to reconcile both of them to God through the cross, by which he put to death their hostility. He came and preached peace to you who were far away and peace to those who were near. For through him we both have access to the Father by one Spirit." (Ephesians 2:13–18)
When Paul looks at the church, he doesn't see weekly gatherings or religious services. He sees three miracles of God that make the church what it is.
In verses 4 to 10 we read how God's mercy creates new life. It starts because of his great love for us. God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead. Those who were dead are now alive, those who were trapped have been raised with Christ and set free, and those who were hopeless have become recipients of God's mercy.
I was staying with some friends recently who live out in the countryside — a beautiful house surrounded by trees and fields. But where they live means they sometimes get unexpected visitors.
My friend was sitting in the kitchen a few weeks ago, enjoying a quiet cup of tea while the kids were at school, when she saw a little mouse running through the garage door. Straight away she could tell this mouse was not in good shape. It was walking slowly, limping, and just looked like the world hadn't been very kind to it.
So she did what any of us would do — she went on ChatGPT. Within a couple of minutes she'd diagnosed the problem and made an action plan to nurse this mouse back to life. She got food, water, everything she thought it could need.
Later she was telling her family about the mouse, and they asked the obvious question: "Where did you release it?" There was an awkward pause. What she'd forgotten to mention was that she hadn't released it — the mouse was now living in a shoebox with snacks and water, making itself quite comfy in her bedroom. Her husband was less than thrilled to realise he had a third roommate.
The mouse looked like it was on its last legs — weak, fading, almost finished. But with a bit of careful, attentive nurturing, it came back to life.
The illustration breaks down at some point, because the mouse wasn't dead — it was just struggling. It needed food, water, and a safe place to recover. But Paul says our spiritual condition was so much worse.
He says that before Christ, we were dead. Not physically dead, but spiritually dead — alienated from God, trapped in sin, unable to do anything in our own strength to make ourselves more alive.
But while we were helpless, there's a turning point: we were dead, but God. All the action in these verses comes from God. It's God who made us alive. It's God who raised us with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms. God shows us his grace, and we are recipients.
The mouse's only hope was that someone would intervene and give it what it needed. That's exactly what God has done for each of us in Jesus. He didn't just improve our condition — he gave us new life. He didn't just make us more moral versions of ourselves — he made us entirely new creations.
"For Jesus, salvation is less about getting you into heaven and more about getting heaven into you." — John Mark Comer
Paul is making a point not just about salvation for individuals, but he's removing every basis for human superiority. If individual salvation is a gift we are freely given, then:
Paul's vision isn't just moral improvement, but new creation. God gives us a completely new kind of life, bringing us from spiritual death to life in Christ. A totally new type of person is formed — people who are united not by what we've done, but by what God has done for us.
Further on, Paul moves from reconciliation with God to reconciliation between people.
"But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he himself is our peace, who has made the two groups one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility." (Ephesians 2:13–15)
I don't know where you went to school, but where I went here in London, it was in some ways a bit like Mean Girls. People sat in very specific groups — with people who looked like them, sounded like them, and had a lot in common. It was almost tribal.
There was one group of girls who were the sensible girls — the group that, if I had a teenage daughter, I'd want her to be in. They were polite, confident, hard-working, uncomplicated, responsible. And I was not in that group. As a 13-year-old I was quite the opposite: irresponsible, insecure, probably not very polite.
But when I was a teenager, my mum did Alpha, she became a Christian, and our lives were totally changed. By the time I was 17, I was quite different to who I was at 13. I got involved in my local church youth group and made a little group of friends there. We ended up going away together to India.
One of the girls on the trip, who'd become a good friend, was one of the sensible girls from that group. In Delhi Airport we bumped into our Year Five teacher, Mrs Moat. As we said hello, I could literally see the cogs turning in her brain: How on earth have these two people become friends? We were the least likely pair — but through God we'd found we had things in common.
And it wasn't just me and Hannah. It was the whole group of friends from our church. We were all so different to one another. We even had prophetic words about being a circus troupe — so I'll let you imagine what that was like.
Church is one of the only places in society where we still gather with people who are different to us, and that is something to celebrate. But it's so easy to do the opposite — to let our differences define us, overwhelm us, or quietly determine who we spend our time with.
When Paul writes, he's not addressing people who simply have different personalities or watch different things on TV. He's writing to people on either side of the deepest division — people who would have had every reason to stay apart. What the Jews and Gentiles disagreed about wasn't just theology. It was ethnicity, culture, food laws, worship practice, identity — centuries of hostility.
Yet Paul's response to this overwhelmingly complex situation is remarkably simple: he himself is our peace. Notice what Paul doesn't say. He doesn't say Jesus brings us peace or offers us peace. He says Jesus is our peace.
On the cross, Jesus tore down the dividing wall of hostility. He doesn't ignore it, or carefully manage it, or brush it under the carpet — he completely destroys it.
We've all experienced those dividing walls. Maybe it's a family member you can barely look in the eye. A friendship that ended badly. Or the person whose life choices make you keep your distance. The same resurrection power that overcomes spiritual death overcomes social hostility. The gospel doesn't just reconcile us to God; it reconciles us to one another.
Paul describes a beautiful reversal: people far away brought near, people with hostility given peace, people divided reconciled. God doesn't only save isolated individuals — he is creating a new community, where our primary identity is not found in our ethnicity or our politics, but only in Jesus.
Have you noticed how naturally we move towards people who are like us? Look anywhere and you'll see friendship groups who dress, talk, and laugh the same way. Psychologists call this subconscious mimicry — we instinctively imitate those around us because we long for belonging and shared identity.
Left to ourselves, we gravitate towards what is familiar. But as followers of Jesus, we're called not to what is natural, but to what is supernatural. The church should be the place where natural divisions lose their power, because through the cross we are all on common ground. Every one of us has been reconciled to God, belongs to one body, has access to the Father, and shares the same Spirit.
This unity matters — not just because it impresses the watching world (although it does), but because Scripture tells us that the church's unity displays God's wisdom to the powers and authorities. In every act of reconciliation, we are declaring that Jesus has won.
Maybe you don't feel like you have what it takes to put your differences aside — but God does. And perhaps our obstacles aren't big conflicts, but comfortable habits. We sit in the same seat every week, talk to the same people, stay in the same circles. Habits aren't a bad thing — we just don't want to become more obedient to our habits than we are to Jesus.
So I'd love to challenge you today: think of the person in this room, or in your world if you're watching at home, who is least similar to you, most different to you. What would it look like this week to take a step towards them?
Every time we move towards reconciliation, we live out the reality that Jesus has already accomplished on the cross. The dividing wall has been torn down, and in Jesus, we are one.
In verses 16 to 18 we read that the church is the sign of the new creation.
"His purpose was to create in himself one new humanity out of the two, thus making peace, and in one body to reconcile both of them to God through the cross, by which he put to death their hostility." (Ephesians 2:16)
Paul isn't just describing what happens to individuals when they meet Jesus. He's describing what God is creating through Jesus. The church — our church — is the first glimpse of God's new creation breaking into the present world. It's meant to be a little preview of what heaven will be like.
That's why moments when we get together as a church can feel so powerful. At Leadership Conference we gather with 6,000 Christians from 71 countries and 29 denominations. Every Sunday when we worship at HTB there are 108 nationalities represented.
I love when we start a new Alpha group and you sit around the table with people wildly different to one another — a banker, a nanny, someone from Spain, people from all over the world. At the start, you have no idea how you'll find common ground. By the end, you've found so much in common and become quite good friends.
I love when we gather to pray not just for what God is doing in our nation or church, but across the global church. This week we're doing Kingdom Come, and we're going to be praying for the global church. We are not just the 11:30, not just the HTB network — we're part of something so much bigger.
Have you ever had a moment in worship where you looked around and thought, I think this is a bit like what heaven will be like? What a privilege to be part of that.
But what about those on the outside looking in? When people look at the church, what they see really matters. A divided church tells lies about Jesus. A reconciled church tells the truth.
Imagine your best non-Christian friend looking into the church. If all they see is fallout, mess, and complexity, that's not something they'll want to be part of. More often than not, the small issues we divide over mean nothing to those on the outside.
I've seen people become Christians in Alpha groups because they witnessed the way others treated the more difficult members of the group — those with interesting opinions. That's the very thing that revealed Jesus to them. We get to model to the world what it looks like to hold differing opinions and complexity, yet above all be united. That's what happens when Jesus is at the centre.
Paul is essentially saying our churches should look more like rugby stadiums than football matches. In football we're used to opposing teams sitting either side of a barrier — a home end and an away end. We expect separation.
But what makes rugby stand out is that traditionally the different supporters sit together. There's no home side and away side. They wear different colours, cheer for different outcomes, disagree with every referee's call — and maybe even grab a pint together afterwards.
Paul says that's what the church should look like. Not people who all have the same opinions and identical views on everything, but people whose differences remain real — yet are not the most important thing.
In a fractured, divided world, a genuinely reconciled church becomes evidence of the power of the cross. The church should be the place where strangers become family, where those once alienated get access and belonging, and where people who would never naturally choose one another become one body. It's a small working model of new creation — a glimpse of what the whole world will one day become.
Maybe you hear Paul's vision for the church and feel pressure to perform, to become better, to prove yourself or make yourself more worthy. But what we read here is not that we need to work harder — it's that we need to let God work.
Our responsibility as Christians is not to manufacture unity. It's to protect and live out the unity that Jesus has already won.
So perhaps our prayer is not, "God, make us one." Perhaps it's more like: "God, help us to live like we already are."
Because if God is creating this new humanity, the church should be the place where that humanity can already be seen — where people catch a glimpse of God's future. Where dead people are made alive, where divided people are made one, and where the church is made new. Amen.
