Revival & The Unity of the Church

Tom Lloyd

I wonder if, when we tell our grandkids the story of how God moved in our time, we first tell the story of the unity movement which preceded it.

The Bible Society’s recent research, termed ‘The Quiet Revival,’ illustrates and confirms what many of us are already seeing and sensing: springtime. The budding of new life as young men in particular walk through the doors of our chapels and community centres for the first time, fill seats on the back row, and go through the waters of baptism. The thawing has even reached our little church, tucked away in a quiet valley. Just a couple of weeks ago we baptised another four people, taking us to nine in six months, with yet more wanting to be baptised. Two in their twenties, four in their thirties, one in his forties, and two in their fifties. Six of them men, finally starting to shift the imbalance in a largely female congregation. For an aging church that eighteen months ago was wondering what the future held, this represents a significant changing of the seasons, and the kind of hope that springtime announces. Our story is no anomaly; around the nation there is a bubbling excitement and confidence that the prayerful siege of generations is finally beginning to break through. Strongholds are beginning to crumble.

It seems to me, however, that these early blossoms are not the beginning of a new move of God, but simply the next stage in a work that has been rumbling underground for some time. In the western evangelical church over recent years, moral failings in those who hold significant positions of leadership and influence have been exposed. Leaders have been removed and corrupt systems pulled down. This is grieving, but necessary. God wants a holy church, and will not entrust more to those who have been unfaithful in little. He has been purifying us. It’s easy to point to the stories of fallen celebrity pastors, but I think there has been a purging work closer to home too, in the dismantling of egos which manifest in territorialism and a competitive spirit. I remember as a teenager arguing with a friend about whose church was better. Whilst that was silly nonsense, springing from immaturity, it is also demonstrative of the kind of attitude I inherited growing up in church, whether intentioned or not. I grew up learning to view other churches through a critical, competitive lens. Rather than look for reasons to say ‘Yes!’ I would search out things to disagree with. We divide over our theological differences, expressed through differences in praxis. If another church is successful and growing, we respond with suspicion rather than celebration. Praise God that attitude is mostly dismantled in my own heart.

Now I am hearing more and more stories of churches taking collective ownership of their regions, joining together for times of prayer and worship, partnering together in mission, pooling resources to invest not in any one local church but in the advancement of the Kingdom through The Local Church. This is happening across denominations, traditions, and church streams. A few weeks ago, we spent our Sunday morning in a packed-out marquee, together with six other local churches. This gathering was the climax of a week of joint mission which reached 600 children across 14 schools, a youth event with 104 in attendance, and a family event with an estimated 800 in attendance, as well as other outreach events. As we all piled into that tent, there was no hint of comparison or cliques, but an atmosphere of family and joy. Leaders sought to outdo one another in showing honour (Rom 12:10). Perhaps we are finally learning to pray, your Kingdom come, and to mean it, whether the rising tide lifts our boat or not. Perhaps our seeking first of His Kingdom is finally overtaking our desire to be successful. Perhaps Jesus’ prayer that we would be one is finally quenching our competitiveness—a sign and a witness to the world (John 17:21).

The Asbury outpouring of 2023 was refreshing to so many because it was a renewal that did not centre on any one individual. It was, on the surface at least, a leaderless movement. Those who did lead did so quietly in the background, humbly guiding and guarding without ever trampling over the move of the Spirit with elephant-esque egos. It seems this is a firstfruit of the kind of work God is up to, as pastors and leaders become disenchanted with celebritism, captivated instead by the Jesus who abolished ecclesial hierarchy when he said, “It shall not be so among you. The greatest among you is the one who serves” (Matt 20:26). This kind of humility is the necessary foundation for true unity. As we follow in the way of Jesus—the way of servanthood, self-sacrifice, and foot-washing—we become the kind of church which can be entrusted with a new move of God, if he so determines.

“How good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity! It is like precious oil poured on the head, running down on the beard, running down on Aaron’s beard, down on the collar of his robe. It is as if the dew of Hermon were falling on Mount Zion. For there the Lord bestows his blessing, even life forevermore.” (Psalm 133:1-3)

Mount Zion is in a dry, arid area. Mount Hermon, however, is the tallest peak in its range, on the border of Syria and Lebanon. The peaks of Mount Hermon are often covered in snow, its high altitude catching the moisture which becomes a water source to the parched land below. This is how David views unity and its effects. It is as though the richness and fertility of Mount Hermon has come to rest upon and transform the barrenness of Mount Zion. The blessing of God. Life forevermore.

I wonder if, when we tell our grandkids the story of how God moved in our time, we first tell the story of the unity movement which preceded it. It is unsurprising that, as the people of God begin to walk and to work in unity, God blesses us with the oil of his Spirit, the dew that makes barren places fruitful. A fresh, saturating, refreshing anointing is beginning to trickle down. May we continue to steward it with humility. May we continue to seek unity in diversity. May we continue to grow families rather than build empires. Perhaps then we may even be entrusted with a noisy revival.