The Heart Remembers Its Center

Every now and then, a reading comes along that feels like it was written for this very moment. Paul’s words to the Corinthians this weekend are one of those readings. He looks at a community he loves — a community full of good, faithful people — and sees them drifting into factions, lining up behind different leaders, letting their loyalties to personalities overshadow their loyalty to Christ. And he says, with a pastor’s urgency and a parent’s tenderness: “I urge you… that there be no divisions among you.”

It’s difficult to imagine a more timely message.

We live in a world where division has become a habit. Politics is the clearest example. People attach themselves to parties or leaders with such passion that the individual becomes more important than the principles, more important than the common good, and sometimes even more important than the truth. Once we start dividing ourselves this way, it doesn’t stay confined. It spreads into families, friendships, workplaces, and even churches. A disagreement turns into a rupture. A difference of opinion becomes a line in the sand. People take sides, and before long, the relationships themselves are what get sacrificed.

Paul saw the same thing happening in Corinth. Some claimed they belonged to Paul, others to Apollos, and still others to Cephas. They weren’t arguing about Christ — they were arguing about the messengers. And Paul, almost incredulous, asks, “Is Christ divided?” It’s as if he’s saying, “How did you get so distracted? How did you let the spotlight shift from the One who saved you to the ones who merely told you about Him?”

That question still resonates today.

Because, if we’re honest, we do the same thing. We let our focus slip. We let our energy be pulled toward human leaders — political, cultural, even religious — and we forget that none of them are the center of our faith. None of them are the source of our hope. None of them are the One who died and rose for us.

Even within the Church, we sometimes fall into this trap. We become attached to one priest or another, comparing styles, personalities, and preaching voices. We catch ourselves saying, “I like this one better,” or “I can’t connect with that one,” as if the priest were the point. But every priest, regardless of how gifted or limited, is meant to be a bridge. Their entire purpose is to lead us to Christ, not to themselves. When we make it about them — when our faith rises or falls on whether we “like” the priest — we risk losing sight of the One they are pointing toward.

Paul concludes this passage with a powerful line and a crucial warning: “For Christ did not send me to baptize but to preach the gospel — not with the wisdom of human eloquence, so that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its meaning.” In other words: it’s not about me. It’s not about my style, skill, or personality. It’s about Christ. It’s always about Christ.

And that is our challenge this week: to honestly examine where our attention is focused. To recognize the areas where we’ve let ourselves be divided into camps or where we’ve prioritized human voices over the voice of the Gospel. To reflect on whether our conversations, worries, loyalties, and energy are centered on Christ — or on something less than God and the Gospel.

Paul isn’t scolding the Corinthians. He’s calling them back to themselves. Back to unity. Back to the simplicity of the Gospel. Back to the One who alone can hold us together when everything else tries to pull us apart.

Maybe that’s what we need too — a gentle yet firm reminder that our faith has one center, one anchor, one Lord. When we keep our eyes on Him, the noise quiets, divisions soften, and we remember who we are: not followers of this leader or that, not members of competing camps, but all brothers and sisters in Christ, called to walk together toward the same cross and the same hope.

In God’s Unending Love,
Gwen Coté