(First published September 12, 2019).

My husband and I were at the movies a few weeks ago. We’d gone to see a Christian movie that had just been released that day.

The theater was nearly empty, probably because it was actually the first screening of this new movie. We sat in the area hubby likes best: bottom row of the “top” section. No one in front of us, plenty of leg room. Up above us, a handful of rows back, were a group of five “older” women (I’m #forever49, so draw your own conclusions) (note: as of this re-publication I am now #tosixtyandbeyond!), happily clucking and chirping in conversation as longtime older friends do. My thought: that’s my Christian girlfriends and me in some years. Grin. There were maybe three or four other people in the theater, scattered above all of us.

Note this, because it’s important: happy flock of ladies would have seen us come in and sit down. We were the only people in front of them.

Ok. Great movie. Prayers, faith, Scripture, the gospel, salvations, miracles. End of movie.

Because I’m #forever49, I headed to the restroom where I found the clucking flock. No surprise. Grin. But as I walked in, one was on her way out, on the phone with what was clearly bringing her bad news. I was immediately sad for her. The flock headed out to the hallway to comfort her, and that’s where I found them when I exited the bathroom myself.

The woman who’d had the phone call was distressed, and the rest were asking questions and gathering information. I could tell someone was in the hospital. I felt sad for the hurting woman, and stood about 20 or 30 feet away observing; not to be rude, but because I was thinking about the fact that we were obviously all Christian women….who had just emerged from a Christian movie…and one of us needed what Christianity offers.

I’m on two prayer teams. One for the past 15 years, the other for a couple of months. Prayer is what I do. I wrote a book about prayer. I believe in prayer. I have seen oodles of answered prayer. Prayer is my place in the body of Christ, my spiritual gift that I exercise on behalf of my church, my family, my friends, and probably a thousand people over the years who I have never seen in person.

And here was a woman who needed prayer. I stood there waiting for the right time to walk over and say, “Can I pray for you?”

But suddenly one of the women declared, “Let’s go to prayer,” and they huddled up as she began to pray over the hurting woman. Obviously they believed in prayer too, so I stepped a bit out of my comfort zone to walk over and join them. I placed my hands gently on the backs of two women in the group and just silently agreed with the pray-er. This is good, right? The body of Christ, doing what we’re supposed to do? In unity?

Not so fast.

After the prayer was over, the women all turned to look at me. Understandable. I’ve just invaded their prayer bubble and I should ‘splain myself. I began to. I told the woman who’d had the phone call that I could tell she’d just had bad news, and that I am on a prayer team at my church.

Before I could go any further, I became aware that the woman next to me was restless. A bit uncomfortable. I didn’t know quite what that was about, but went on with my conversation, requesting if I could put the hurting woman’s loved one on our prayer chain. But unable to tolerate her discomfort anymore, restless woman kind of blurted out:

“Are you one of us?!”

Hmmm. “One of us?” As in, human? woman? Christian?

I figured she meant am I also a Christian (I mean, I did just say I have led a prayer team for 15 years at my church, but maybe she missed that part), and turned to assure her I was. I get it—I was a prayer-bubble-crasher, and that’s a little weird. I can see why that might have made her a little suspicious, but I was in the middle of ‘splainin myself. Just hang on, dear one.

I turned back to the hurting woman to gather some information about her loved one and ask for that person’s name as well as her own. But before I could get much further, the uncomfortable woman was uncomfortable again and loudly pronounced,

“We go to (well-known church in this city).”

It seemed to be thrown down like a battle standard in front of me. Clearly this woman’s identity was much wrapped up in her belonging to this church (again, a super great church), and she needed to know whether or not I had a battle standard from the same army as hers. I felt compassion for her unrest, even as her two questions were being tucked away in my heart as a bigger issue to grapple with after this conversation was done.

I gently responded to her with “ I go to ( well known church in this city).” Another woman reassured restless woman of my now-proven authenticity:

“Oh, that’s a good one.”

Wasn’t aware we were in a ratings game here, but I could almost feel their collective silent breath of relief. I wasn’t a cult member, witch, or from-an-unknown-church-weirdo. Because I go to (well-known church in this city), I pass the test. Their prayers are safe. They don’t have to re-pray because I had somehow contaminated the prayer huddle. I finished my conversation with hurting woman, assured her of our church’s prayers, and headed out of the theater.

As I walked away, the buzz started among them. “I saw her standing over there looking at us.” “She just walked up and put her hand on my back!” Ssssh, she might hear you. Grin.

Now, remember: these women had seen my husband and me enter the theater and sit in front of them. We had all been at the Scripture-filled, prayer-answered, miracle-happening movie together. To top it off, I WAS WEARING MY “LIVIN’ ON A PRAYER” T-shirt fercryinoutloud!

We need to talk about this, body of Christ. We got some ‘splainin to do.

First, let me say that I would never recognize any of these women if I saw them again on the street. And they were truly dear ladies who clearly love Jesus and have solid faith and the boldness to put their arms around each other and pray in the hallway of a movie theater. They did nothing wrong in this story; I’m not offended, shocked, or mad. To me they are simply representative of a dynamic in the church that we need to address.

In John 17, Jesus, in His great priestly prayer before he goes to the cross, says to His Father:

“I am praying not only for these disciples but also for all who will ever believe in me through their message. I pray that they will all be one, just as you and I are one—as you are in me, Father, and I am in you. And may they be in us so that the world will believe you sent me…I am in them and you are in me. May they experience such perfect unity that the world will know that you sent me and that you love them as much as you love me.” (verses 20-21, 23).

Sadly, I think too often these days we major in the minors. The headlines are shrieking events that should, from Matthew 24 and 2 Timothy 3 and other such passages, have us watching the skies. Millions are suffering without the gospel who live next door to us and work one desk over and sit across the lunch table from us…but instead we get sucked into pointing fingers at other Christians’ social media posts and fact-checking each other’s faith qualifications. (Again, total grace to the sweet flock ladies; they just got me to thinkin’). Are we not often so suspicious of each other that Jesus might shake His head and say, “This isn’t unity”?

You, child, you’re an arm. She’s a leg. See her over there? She’s an eye. Join up and pray. Be a body.

The body of Christ isn’t just all the parts of ministry that make up the place you go on Sunday. The body of Christ is believers in all the healthy Bible-teaching churches in this city…country…world.

Now please don’t take me wrong: I am NOT espousing a globalist, biblically compromising, one-size-fits-however-you-want-it-to doctrine. I still and will always to my last breath believe:

• The Word of God is inerrant, every letter God-breathed. If the Bible says something is sin, it is sin. Still. Today. Yep.
• God created the heavens and the earth.
• Satan is a created being. He isn’t Jesus’ opposite, and he doesn’t rule hell. It’s his destination, not his domain.
• We are sinners, every single one of us. Me. You. Yep.
• Jesus is God, not a good man, a prophet, or one of many inspirational historical figures.
• There is one way to salvation: grace through faith, and that not of our own, through the blood of Jesus. He is the only way to heaven. Period.
• Jesus died for our sin, and it is paid for in full. He rose after three days, walked the earth for 40 days more, and then returned to heaven to sit at the right hand of the Father.
• He will return in just the same manner as He ascended.
• There will be judgment for those who do not acknowledge Him as Lord, and eternity in hell. There will be no judgment but rather eternity in heaven for those who do. Hell. Heaven. Period. Yep.
• The Trinity is a fact, all three persons equally God, the Holy Spirit the down payment of our inheritance given at the time we confess with our mouths our sin and our Savior.
• Each of us is given spiritual gifts at the discretion of the Holy Spirit to carry out our life assignments, in our generation, so that the body of Christ works together in unity.

These issues are non-negotiable doctrine for those of us calling ourselves biblical Christians. So I’m not saying we aren’t to be discerning about with whom we’re partnering in prayer. What I am saying is, for those of us who agree on these fundamentals….but differ on other not-as-foundational subjects…it’s time for us to put down our pointing fingers and grab each other’s hands.

One of the neatest Bible studies I’ve been involved in was at my friend Glenda’s house. Using a Jon Courson commentary, we went through books of the Bible chapter by chapter. We represented a variety of churches and traditions, but together, we studied God’s Word, discussed it, learned, and prayed for each other.

The church the happy flock women go to? It’s denominational. Mine? Isn’t. Theirs features traditional worship, a choir in robes. Mine, contemporary, in jeans and T-shirts. Theirs runs a brick and mortar school. Mine, a homeschool. Together, we agreed in prayer for someone in crisis. I added one-more-intercessing-soul…and then about 20 more when I put her on the prayer chains on which I serve. That’s unity.

Let’s start from sameness and sort out the dangerous doctrine if it arises, rather than suspiciously sniff from the get-go. If someone crashes our prayer bubble, let’s pray now and let God sort out if her prayer reached His heart or not. It’s good to ask questions, but let’s not miss the point of Jesus’ prayer: unity, so that the world will believe God sent Him. Further, it doesn’t matter what church I go to and what church you go to. Our churches don’t qualify our character. Our churches don’t determine our eternity. The best question that sweet restless woman could have asked me is: “Is Jesus your Lord?” Resounding yes. Ok, we’re on common ground. Let’s prayer-huddle.

What could happen if we did?