In this one word we have both the promise and the problem. The promise is:

That in the dispensation of the fullness of times he might gather together in one all things in Christ, both which are in heaven, and which are on earth (Eph. 1:10, KJV).

Remember Paul's vision? He apparently saw history from a perspective no one had seen before, in much the same way that the astronauts circling in space were able to see the planet earth as a whole for the first time. Paul saw not only the earth, but what was beyond the earth.

It is true that vision of eternal things had occurred before, but no one had been able to "get them together" to show how they related. In the same way that a cook takes apples from the orchard, chemicals from the pantry, and milk from the pasture and combines them with the chemistry of cooking to make a pie, Paul now brings together the apparently conflicting ideas in the world and explains them in terms of a divine purpose. Vague as "this sounds", it's the formula for the power that God promised to give us. The word together echoes through this letter again and again:
1. He quickened us together.
2. He raised us up together.
3. He made us to sit together in heavenly places.

Getting things together seems to be the hard part.

When we moved out of a downtown condominium to a home with a lot, I discovered that I needed the same equipment I needed when I first moved out west. I shopped for a lawn edger.

When I found a model I liked, I told the salesgirl, "I want this edger, but I know the floor model's not for sale. How much will I have to put together?" "Just fasten the handle on," she said. "How many tools will I need?" "A screwdriver and pliers should do it."

I bought the machine, all neatly contained in a large brown cardboard box. When I got home, I tried putting it together. The thirty-minute job the salesgirl had promised me stretched into two hours. The "screwdriver and pliers" she suggested had multiplied until I had more than a dozen tools on the driveway. Finally, with a bleeding thumb, a perspiring forehead, and a highly stressed disposition, I got it all together and began to edge my lawn. As I passed the now-empty carton, I read the message again: "Some assembly required."

That's always the problem, getting things together. It's a human problem. It is not difficult being an individual Christian; it's just difficult to get along with all the other people who are Christian.

It's not that we can't get along; we just have problems getting things together: This fact was forcibly brought home to me as I listened to Will Hughes in Alabama last summer. He quoted the verse in Paul's letter to the Ephesians:

Grow up into him in all things, which is the head, even Christ: From whom the whole body fitly joined together and compacted by that which every joint supplieth, according to the effectual working in the measure of every part, maketh increase of the body unto the edifying of itself in love (Eph. 4:15-16).

Will then held out his arm and said, "Here's my elbow. It's a joint. There are two bones in the forearm and two in the upper arm. But where they come together is the elbow. That's a joint. Take them apart and you have no elbow. You have no joint. "Paul says that the body is made strong, is able to grow because of what these joints do. It's the togetherness that counts. It is the togetherness that brings the blessing." Even though I was sitting in a steamy, hot tabernacle on that August afternoon, my mind leaped into the "alert" position.

Will had diagnosed the problem. We lack togetherness. This is true; not only in our human relationships, but also in our use of Scripture and our understanding of history. We have many valid ideas, and even occasionally some valid theologies, but they don't fit with all the other things that we know. We have many Christian groups-sincere and energetic---but they can't get together. The world is full of people who are without doubt good people, but they can't relate to other people.

Since that moment of revelation came to me, I've been on a crusade to get together. It's been interesting.

On one occasion, I told the story of the elbow and said, "The joints are where the strength is."

A voice from the audience said, "And that's where the arthritis is, too." Pick your battlefield. Men and women, women and women, men and men, Arab and Jew, liberals and conservatives, right brain and left brain, youth and age, intuition and logic; the list is endless. Adversaries all, but realities all.

Is there a way of harmony---no, better, synergy? Can our differences result in strength? Can the place where we come together be a point of strength rather than of conflict and tension?

Paul believed that they could. Or, more correctly, Christ can bring together. And only he can.

Small wonder the phrase "in Christ" occurs ten times in this short letter of six chapters.

What's remarkable about this letter is that it is both the most mystical and the most practical book in the Bible. It holds hands with the centuries and holds hands with each of us. It sees beyond time, but tells us how to live in a world of time. It deals not only with sin as a falling short of God's eternal purpose, but it pinpoints individual sins such as lying, stealing, adultery, and fornication.

Buckminster Fuller said that he begins every serious thought by thinking of the universe. Most of us don't. We're problem-solvers. Well, if not problem-solvers, at least we are problem-recognizers. We put out fires. We deal with crises.

Much better, we should consider the universe first. But we should not end our thoughts there. We need to deal with our personal relationships. It has been said that some people are so "heavenly" that they are no "earthly" good. Of course, the opposite is also true. Some of us are so bound to the earth that we strive for heavenly goals by earthly methods. How well Paul understood the realities of the earth: shipwrecks, fastings, beatings, prisons, hunger, and conflict. Yet even in prison (where he wrote the letter to the Ephesians), Paul's vision of the heavenly kingdom gave meaning to even the most degrading experiences. Small wonder that he encourages us. Christ "hath raised us up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus" (Eph. 2:6). Could we ask, "Is our 'sitting together' the reason that we're in heavenly places, or is it that our being in heavenly places makes possible our togetherness?" The question is vital for our generation!

All over the world there are well-meaning and earnest people who are trying to heal the brokenness of humankind. "Let's reconcile the blacks and the whites, the Jew and the Arab, the have and the have-nots, the young and the old, the rich and the poor." The list of battlegrounds seems endless. Is reconciliation possible?

So far it hasn't been possible by any human means. Paul lived in this world of conflict, but his vision and spiritual insight gave him the answer. In his letter to the Corinthians, he said:

God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself.... [He] hath given to us the ministry of reconciliation (2 Cor. 5:19, 18).

Now in the Ephesian letter he emphasizes his "in Christ" theme. Time after time he sounds this note. Our harmony with the universe, our harmony with God's plan, and our harmony with the people around us, depends upon our being "in Christ."

"But now in Christ Jesus ye who sometimes were far off are made nigh by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace, who hath made both one, and hath broken down the middle wall of partition between us; having abolished in his flesh the enmity, even the law of commandments contained in ordinances; for to make in himself of twain one new man, so making peace" (Eph. 2:13-16). Is this possible?

Can races live in harmony? Can different cultures live in harmony? Can families? Can religious groups who worship the same God worship together? Can people who love God actually love each other?

It's human to say, "Let them come to me." It's natural to believe that if everyone were more like us in thought and behavior that we could have peace in the world. A couple stood before the minister repeating the wedding vows. At the conclusion of their vows, the minister said, "And now I make you both 'one.' "

In a timid voice, the groom said, "Which one?" A logical question. Does marriage mean that one person will dominate and rule? It shouldn't. A Christian marriage is one where both the woman and the man are "in Christ," and both submit to him. He makes them one.

It seems natural for us to wish that the other in a relationship (whether it is a spouse, or a race, or a culture) would either move over or move out so that we could have harmony.

Joe Minkler told me of a couple who had lived together for fifty years, but they had lived in constant conflict. One day the weary wife said, "Henry, we have been married for fifty years, but haven't had one happy year in all that time. We stayed together for the sake of the children and because we didn't believe in divorce. Now the children are gone and I think we ought to do something so that we don't spend our remaining years in conflict. Let's just kneel down and pray and ask God to take one of us home to heaven, and then I'll go and live with my sister."

Here's another illustration of this principle of "Go-away-and-it-will-get-better": Two boys sat astride a horse. Under the load, the horse was plodding along wearily. One of the boys spoke, "I think one of us needs to get off so that I can ride better."

While these stories are humorous, they lose their humor when applied to nations who try to blast other nations off the face of the earth "so that I can ride better." In a marriage that's made intolerable by a bossy man, things don't improve when you develop a "bossy" wife. In a Christian marriage, it's never a question of who gets his way (or her way). We go God's way.

When we come to Christ, we come together. Without Christ, we are aliens. Here the theme of Ephesians emerges clearly. We can claim the inheritance of the saints, when we're together with the saints. When we're out of the family, we're out of the fortune.

It's more than "a play on words" to say, that the only ship that will transport us to heavenly places is "fellowship."

Paul makes it clear that this kind of unity is not achieved by our understanding each other, but by accepting each other.

Paul's life story is a story of relatedness. He was a cultured, literate Jew, a scholar and a mystic. But he had to relate to all the other kinds of people as well. In his letter to the Romans, he understands this obligation: I am debtor both to the Greeks, and to the Barbarians; both to the wise, and to the unwise. So, as much as in me is, I am ready to preach the gospel to you that are at Rome also (Rom. 1:14-15).

Most students of history conclude that the religious differences between people are more often sociological than theological. Vance Packard, in his book The Status Seekers, talks of the social differences that make walls between people so that--although they obviously worship the same God-they don't worship in the same ways. One chapter in Packard's book is entitled "From Pentecostalism to Episcopalianism."

Paul related to all kinds of people, but not because he was naturally charitable or understanding---look at him before he met Christ. It would be difficult to find a more provincial, rock-ribbed traditionalist than Saul of Tarsus. If God wanted his people to be "one," Saul knew which one. The world would have to come to his Judaistic way of thinking.

When Paul writes to the Ephesians that God has broken down the middle wall of partition between the Jew and the Gentile, he wasn't thinking of some poetic or mystical event. When the wall came down, Paul was hit on the head by many of the bricks. How did Paul understand this breaking down of the wall between warring factions? Only in Christ. Listen: "For through him [Christ] we both have access by one Spirit unto the Father" (Eph. 2:18). This is a remarkable verse. Here the trinity of God is illustrated: Through Christ, the son, we (now together) both have access by one Spirit to the Father.

Jesus (being God) became man to prove that God could live in a human body. He made the two worlds one---the world of spirit and the world of flesh. Then he broke down the wall that separated the two and every other wall that separates people. For us to understand this mystery, the Spirit must open our eyes. The Holy Spirit opens the door into this unlimited fellowship. We are born of the Spirit. Now, having entered a new relationship with Christ and God the Father, we find ourselves in a new relationship with the family of God. The family has roots going back to the foundation of the world. It includes not only the apostles and prophets, but also the other believers around us. Here the theme of togetherness shines through again. If we are together with Christ, we are together with each other. When we let ourselves get separated from each other, we forfeit our relationship with Christ and the eternal church.

The unity of believers is not something we achieve. It's a fact we can't avoid. If we don't understand this formula, the rest of the letter to the Ephesians won't make sense to us. In the final four chapters of his letter---which, of course, was not divided in Paul's original letter as it is today in our Bibles---Paul gets to the part of "togetherness" that we can do. It is tremendously practical. Buckminster Fuller told us to begin with the universal and move to the personal. Paul does.