No One Left Behind
The mosh pit has a cardinal rule, a never-to-be-breached rule:
If someone goes down, you pick them up.
In the swirling morass that is a concert mosh pit, where the energy of arms and legs propels the aggressive, circular path, one iron-clad rule is followed; if someone should fall, you will stop, reach down, and lift that person to safety, ushering them to the outer edge to catch their breath, to dance again another day.

What if the Church made that a similarly sacred rule? That in the chaos of life, where challenges and trouble come at the Christian in rapid-fire volleys, what if we made it an unbreakable rule that we reach down, lift up our brother or sister and guide them to security and peace no matter the sacrifice it demands of us?
One of the most disappointing aspects of 21st century evangelical Christianity is the individualization that characterizes of our faith and practice. Each person holds to their own faith—just you and Jesus—and the fragility or strength of that relationship is no one else’s business. The koinonia (fellowship) that is to mark our lives together in The Christ diminishes to the social realm only. This voluntary-association-only idea robs us spiritually and danger lurks there. This individualism-in-the-vicinity-of-others makes us more vulnerable than we realize.
Deconstruction has become a buzzword and a reality in the Church today. You and I are witness to brothers and sisters in various states of unraveling all the time. Western individualism prompts us to make a polite inquiry into a brother’s spiritual well-being, but when we receive the “I’m fine”—when they’re clearly not—response, we back away. As the unraveling of belief spirals, we step further away, not wanting to elicit an angrier rebuff. Sometimes this spiritual struggle works out, but not without scars. Occasionally, the spiral goes so deep that the sister or brother walks away from their faith and the Church, the misguided choruses of “they never belonged to us” [1 John 2:19] whispered behind their backs. Man down. Woman down. These are not exclusively matters of perseverance but more so matters of our common brokenness.
We, and you are free to expand that category as far as you’d like, are eternally united in the Image we share. Those of us who have been enjoined in the category of God’s people by our loyalty to the Christ are united by our new common experience of bearing images-in-transition. Bearing both the Image and the Spirit, we are a part of a Koinonia, a fellowship that brings with it added concerns and responsibilities. We’re in this together, the ‘I’ condescends to the ‘We.’ The disciple’s sacrificial love is to be vigilant and concerned for the mental, spiritual and physical well-being of brothers and sisters. “I’m fine,” can be challenged with an observation of not-fineness only when the bond of these brothers and sisters is strong, when we as the Church refuse to go the way of the culture of individualism. We leave no sister behind. There are no men down while we sing Hallelujah.



