I stood outside a Walmart last week. A man was panhandling. I didn't want to engage with him.
That's the honest version. Not "my immediate response wasn't compassion"—I just didn't want to deal with it. Too uncomfortable. Too uncertain whether he was being truthful. Too many questions I didn't want to answer.
I'm a pastor. And I still felt it.
The thing that bothers me is this: I was deciding whether to help based on my comfort level, not based on what Scripture actually tells me to do. And that's the root of almost every division I've seen in churches.
We don't usually divide over theology. We divide because someone's preference becomes sacred to them. They like hymns—traditional hymns, nothing else—so that becomes the measuring stick for whether you're really spiritual. Or it's the opposite. Contemporary music is authentic worship, and anyone clinging to hymns is just stuck. Music becomes doctrine. Style becomes theology. And somewhere in all that, we lose the ability to just receive each other.
But here's the thing: the Bible doesn't call us to receive everything. We're not supposed to compromise on truth. We're not supposed to embrace sin. So every person in every church has to figure out the same question: What actually matters?
There are three categories. Learn the difference, and you'll stop defending boundaries that shouldn't exist. More importantly, you'll start actually living out what Jesus commanded.
I grew up in a church where the message was unmistakable: hymns = spiritual. Contemporary music = worldly. That wasn't how they framed it, but that's what it meant.
Then I was in churches where they flipped it completely. Contemporary worship was authentic. Hymns were boring relics.
Both groups thought they were being biblical. Neither one was. They were just defending preferences and calling them convictions.
A preference is just something you like. That's it. In church, you see it all the time:
These aren't spiritual or unspiritual. They're just what you prefer. And that's fine.
Until it's not.
The moment you start building walls around your preference—when you say "if you don't like what I like, I question your faith"—you've crossed into something else. I've watched churches split. Families stop talking. Friendships that lasted decades just end. All because someone decided their taste was actually a doctrine.
Paul saw this exact thing happening. In Romans 14, there are believers arguing about what you can eat, what days matter, and what's permissible. Some feel free to do things others think are wrong. Instead of letting it become a battle line, Paul cuts through it:
"Receive ye one another as Christ also received us to the glory of God." — Romans 15:7 (KJV)
Receive. Not "tolerate." Not "reluctantly coexist with." Receive—embrace, welcome, actually take the person in.
Even when you think their preferences are wrong. Even when you'd never pick what they pick.
You don't have to like what they like. But the second your preference becomes a test of their faith? You've confused two completely different things.
Then there's everything else.
Some things genuinely matter. Not because we feel strongly about them. Because they're literally what Scripture teaches about God.
Jesus being God—that's doctrine.
The resurrection actually happening—that's doctrine.
Salvation through Christ alone—that's doctrine.
That the Bible is actually God's Word—that's doctrine.
Not style questions. Not preferences. This is foundational. This is what Christianity actually is.
"But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." — Romans 5:8 (KJV)
That's not negotiable. It's the gospel.
Here's where churches get it wrong: We elevate preferences to doctrine (music style becomes a test of faith), or we demote doctrine to preference (act like the resurrection is just your interpretation). Both destroy something.
When someone teaches something that contradicts Scripture—when they deny who Jesus is or how salvation works—that needs to be addressed. You can't just receive that and move on. Romans 16:17 is clear: you mark it, you address it, you separate from it.
But here's the thing—and this is where most people miss it—you do this firmly, not cruelly. You're protecting the church, not attacking the person.
And then there's sin itself. Actual unrepentant behavior that violates God's law.
False teaching that leads people away from Jesus? Sin.
Sexual immorality without repentance? Sin.
Lying, stealing, abuse—defended instead of confessed? Sin.
Jesus spent his whole ministry with sinners. Tax collectors. The woman at the well. He didn't avoid broken people. He went toward them. But He didn't affirm their sin. He called them to turn.
You've heard the saying: "Love the sinner, hate the sin."
People don't like hearing it anymore. But it's true. You can care deeply about someone as a person and still refuse to pretend their sin is okay.
In church, this looks like:
Not judgment and contempt. You do this as someone who knows you're also broken and forgiven.
"Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again." — Matthew 7:1-2 (KJV)
Confronting sin is just one sinner telling another sinner: There's a better way. Jesus has a better way.
Three things to ask yourself:
Is this explicitly in Scripture, or is this my interpretation? If the Bible doesn't command it and it's not tied to a core doctrine, it's a preference. That's it. You can prefer it. But it's not a test.
Does this affect who Jesus is or how we're saved? If yes—doctrine. If no—preference.
Is this about someone's character and their choices, or about the style they do it in? Unrepentant sin that needs confrontation, or just how they prefer to live their life? That's the difference.
Then the hardest part: Look at yourself.
Where have I made my preference into someone else's test?
Who did I push away because they didn't like what I like—and then I dressed it up as conviction?
Where am I letting false teaching slide because I don't want to be "that person"?
Is there someone whose sin I'm ignoring because I want to seem gracious?
When you get this right, something shifts.
You stop wasting energy defending walls that shouldn't exist. You stop fragmenting your church over who likes what. And you start building a place where people actually feel received—not judged, not compromised, but genuinely welcomed into their mess.
That's when the gospel becomes actual. That's when the world, looking at the church, sees something they didn't expect: Real unity that doesn't require everyone to be identical.
Before you close this:
When you receive people the way Christ received you—with real clarity about what matters and real grace about what doesn't—you become proof that the gospel is real. That's not nice language. That's your actual witness.
Standing in the Dark: What to Do When You Can't See the Way Forward is for people who are actually wrestling with what matters and what doesn't. You can find it on Amazon.