I could dissociate myself from people with whom I disagree on tribal theological points, but then I’m compromising church unity just like they do. It’s taken me some time, but I’m beginning to understand that Christ’s church is a mess because Christ’s church has always been a mess. It’s supposed to be a mess. And if the gospel is true, it won’t stop being a mess.

I don’t want to shame or brood. I’m no ex-evangelical, but I am an exhausted one.

I’ve spent the last few years watching many trade principles for partisanship. I’ve watched ministerial heroes of mine fall hard. I’ve watched people die on theological hills at the expense of church unity.

I’ve overheard gossip and been cut down by people I trusted. I’ve felt a lack of understanding—and an internal contentment to misunderstand what others are saying (which is even worse).

More so than any other time in my life, I look around and I feel like Christ’s church is little more than a big, fat mess.

Others have felt this tension before. They’ve proposed a few solutions.

I could go to a mainline congregation that cares about social justice and caring for the vulnerable, but to do so would require me to compromise the truths I confess.

I could bail on the institutionalized church altogether, but I’d be upending the biblical narrative to an even greater degree and be neglecting the bride of Christ—those whom God loves.

I could dissociate myself from people with whom I disagree on tribal theological points, but then I’m compromising church unity just like they do.

It’s taken me some time, but I’m beginning to understand that Christ’s church is a mess because Christ’s church has always been a mess. It’s supposed to be a mess.

And if the gospel is true, it won’t stop being a mess.

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