The Call to Unity in Divided Times
A Midlife Reflection on the Conversion of Saint Paul
I opened up one of my inspirational apps on my phone this morning and learned that today, January 25, marks the Feast of the Conversion of Saint Paul the Apostle—commemorating one of history's most dramatic transformations. Paul (formerly Saul) went from being a fierce persecutor of early Christians to becoming one of the most influential voices for unity, compassion, and transcendence of tribal divisions.
I didn’t grow up knowing about feast days in this way. Though I was raised Catholic, my relationship with faith has always been... expansive. Even at five or six years old, I knew God was bigger than any one man-made religion. My faith didn’t fit neatly into the boxes I was given.
In my thirties, when my marriage was failing and eventually ending, I did what some people might find unusual: instead of going to therapy, I went to church. Lots of churches. Different denominations, different expressions of Christianity, different ways people sought to connect with the Divine. I was searching—not for answers in doctrine, but for the thread of truth that ran through all of it.
What I discovered was this: the underlying messages in sacred texts, across traditions, point to something universal. Something that transcends the specific cultural or religious packaging.
My quest for knowledge and wisdom has taken me through the Bible, the Torah, the Qur’an—what some call the Three Testaments—and beyond. I’ve studied Buddhist texts, Hindu scriptures, indigenous wisdom traditions, mystical poetry from Rumi and Hafiz. I’ve learned that truth speaks in many languages, wears many faces, and shows up in unexpected places.
I approach all sacred texts the same way: with reverence for their origins and hunger for their underlying wisdom. I’m not looking to adopt every religion or practice every tradition. I’m looking for the golden thread—the universal truths that run through them all.
Today, that text is from Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians.
The Scripture That Stopped Me Today
"I appeal to you, dear brothers and sisters, by the authority of our Lord Jesus Christ, to live in harmony with each other. Let there be no divisions in the church. Rather, be of one mind, united in thought and purpose. For some members of Chloe's household have told me about your quarrels, my dear brothers and sisters. Some of you are saying, 'I am a follower of Paul.' Others are saying, 'I follow Apollos,' or 'I follow Peter,' or 'I follow only Christ.' Has Christ been divided into factions? Was I, Paul, crucified for you? Were any of you baptized in the name of Paul? Of course not!"
Read that again, but replace the names with ones we know today. Replace “I follow Paul” with “I follow this political party.” Replace “I follow Apollos” with “I follow this ideology.” Replace “I follow Peter” with “I follow this leader.”
Sound familiar?
We’re doing the exact same thing the early church was doing two thousand years ago. We’re fracturing into factions, declaring allegiance to personalities and movements, and forgetting the bigger picture.
What We Might Have Missed
Here’s what struck me as I sat with this passage this morning: the call wasn’t about following a person or even a religion. It was about embodying a higher consciousness—one that transcends division.
When the text says “Christ,” I believe it’s pointing to something much bigger than any one individual. It’s pointing to a state of unified awareness, a consciousness of wholeness, the recognition of our fundamental interconnection. Some call it Christ Consciousness. Some call it enlightenment. Some call it simply waking up.
This is what I think we might have misunderstood all along.
The teaching wasn’t “worship me”—it was “you will do greater things than these.” (John 14:12)
Think about that. You will do greater things.
Not “you will worship me forever.” Not “you will build institutions in my name and fight over who’s doing it right.”
But: wake up to what you’re capable of. Embody this consciousness yourself.
Why This Matters Now
We are living in profoundly divisive times, particularly here in the United States. We’re being asked—no, demanded—to pick sides. To declare allegiance. To draw lines in the sand between “us” and “them.”
And I’m watching people I love disappear into their camps, convinced that the other side is the enemy, convinced that their leader or ideology or news source has the truth.
It’s exhausting. It’s heartbreaking. And it’s exactly what Paul was warning against.
Not because division is uncomfortable (though it is), but because division keeps us from embodying our highest potential. It keeps us small. It keeps us locked in ego and fear rather than expanding into love and consciousness.
The underlying message of this scripture transcends any belief in a deity. Whether you’re spiritual, religious, atheist, agnostic, or somewhere in between, the call remains the same:
Transcend the attachments to labels that divide us.
Recognize our shared humanity beneath the surface identifiers we cling to.
The Midlife Advantage
Here’s where I want to speak directly to my fellow women in midlife, because we have something precious that younger versions of ourselves didn’t have: perspective.
We’ve lived long enough to see through the tribalism. We’ve experienced enough to know that wisdom doesn’t belong to any one tradition, any one voice, any one way of thinking. We’ve learned—often painfully—that life is far more nuanced than the black-and-white narratives we’re constantly fed.
We’ve watched ideologies rise and fall. We’ve seen leaders disappoint us. We’ve witnessed movements that promised transformation fizzle out or worse, become the very thing they claimed to oppose.
And in that witnessing, in that accumulation of experience, we’ve gained something invaluable: the ability to hold complexity.
We can say “yes, and” instead of “either/or.”
We can recognize truth in multiple places without needing them all to agree.
We can honor our own convictions while remaining curious about perspectives that differ from ours.
This is not weakness. This is not “fence-sitting” or lack of conviction. This is wisdom.
And it’s precisely what our world needs right now.
The Questions That Matter
At this stage of life, we have the clarity to ask different questions:
What unites us rather than divides us?
What do we share in common beneath our differences?
Where can we find harmony without sacrificing our truth?
How can we hold strong values while remaining open to growth?
Unity doesn’t mean we all think the same. It doesn’t mean we abandon our values or stop advocating for what we believe in.
Unity means we prioritize connection over division. Understanding over judgment. Compassion over allegiance to any single ideology or group.
It means we recognize that the person across the political or ideological divide is still a human being—still struggling, still seeking, still worthy of dignity.
Our Work Now
This is our work in midlife: to be bridge-builders, not wall-builders.
To model a different way forward—one that honors the complexity and wisdom we’ve earned through experience.
To embody that higher consciousness ourselves, not just talk about it.
To refuse the pressure to choose a camp and instead stand in the messy, uncomfortable, beautiful middle where nuance lives.
To show the younger generations that there’s another way—that you can have strong convictions without demonizing those who disagree, that you can be deeply spiritual without being dogmatic, that you can engage with sacred texts from any tradition and extract universal wisdom.
Paul’s conversion reminds us that transformation is always possible. That someone who was once an enemy can become a bridge. That our past doesn’t determine our future. That consciousness can shift in an instant or unfold over decades.
And his message to the early church reminds us that the real work has always been unity.
Not uniformity. Not compliance. Not everyone thinking the same thoughts or following the same leaders.
But unity in recognizing our shared humanity. Unity in transcending our tribal attachments. Unity in embodying love over fear.
The Choice Before Us
The question we face isn’t “Which side are you on?”
The question is: “How can we rise above the division?”
How can we hold our ground without hardening our hearts?
How can we advocate for justice without dehumanizing others?
How can we stay true to ourselves while remaining open to transformation?
These are not easy questions. They require us to sit in discomfort, to resist the seductive simplicity of tribalism, to do the hard work of consciousness.
But we’re ready for this. We’ve been preparing our whole lives.
Every disappointment that taught us nuance. Every relationship that showed us multiple perspectives. Every failure that humbled us. Every season that transformed us.
It was all leading here—to this moment when the world needs people who can hold both/and, who can bridge divides, who can model a different way.
My Summation
Whether you resonate with the language of Christ Consciousness, or you simply see this as a call to rise above our worst impulses toward tribalism—the invitation is the same.
Be a bridge-builder.
Let your midlife wisdom shine. Let your hard-earned perspective guide you. Let your capacity for complexity be your gift to a world that desperately needs it.
And when you’re tempted to choose a side over choosing love, to choose certainty over growth, to choose comfort over consciousness—
Remember Paul’s words:
Live in harmony with each other. Let there be no divisions. Rather, be of one mind, united in thought and purpose.
The “one mind” isn’t about thinking the same thoughts.
It’s about waking up to our interconnection.
It’s about embodying the consciousness that knows: we are not separate. We never were.
And that changes everything.
I invite you to sit with these questions today:
What’s your relationship with unity in these divided times?
How are you navigating the pressure to pick sides?
Journal on them. Meditate on them. Let them work on you.
This is the inner work that changes the outer world.