“How monotonously alike all the great tyrants and conquerors have been; how gloriously different are the saints.” That line from C. S. Lewis’s Mere Christianity echoes in my mind whenever I look at church history and see the breathtaking diversity of God’s people.
Next to my prayer bench at home sits a canvas with portraits of 33 men and women from across the centuries whose witness and writings have shaped me. What unites them is their devotion to Christ; what distinguishes them is the many ways that devotion took form.
There’s the unbending Athanasius, who stood against the world, three rows above the sometimes-wavering Thomas Cranmer, who stewarded the English Reformation before dying at the stake. There’s Francis of Assisi, delighting in the world God made, and the monk Bede, renouncing it for the quiet of the cloister. There’s the young Perpetua, facing the beasts in the amphitheater with courage, and the elderly Annie Armstrong, whose passion for mission churches was manifested through sheer persistence and a flurry of letters.
Glorious Variety of Holiness
Look long enough at the heroes of church history—the great cloud of witnesses that surrounds us—and you find astonishing variety. Deacons and pastors, artists and musicians, monks and missionaries, the young and the old, rulers and servants, theologians and peasants. So many ways to take up the cross. So many ways to display the life of the Spirit. The common thread is our common Christ.
The more I reflect on the varied expressions of sanctity through the ages, the more grateful I am for the same diversity on display in the church today. We don’t have to look back to find this variety; we can just look around. In every culture and on every continent, the Spirit fills people of different temperaments, gifts, and passions, shaping them into Christ’s image in ways both familiar and surprising.
Temptation Toward Sameness
Yet too often we give the side-eye to believers whose callings don’t look like ours. Many of today’s fiercest arguments are less about doctrine than temperament—less about theology than calling. There’s something in us that prefers sameness, that feels safer when holiness wears just one outfit. We exalt a certain kind of Christian as the model and quietly judge anyone who doesn’t fit the mold.
This temptation isn’t new. It shows up again and again in church history, as followers of some great reformer turn a channel of blessing into a cage for judging others. G. K. Chesterton once observed how wise the church was to honor Francis of Assisi without becoming wholly Franciscan. Each movement—the desert fathers, the Puritans, the revivalists—has brought something precious to the church, yet none has exhausted the riches of the Spirit. We need them all. We need each other. The beauty of holiness is revealed not in uniformity but in harmony.
Six Paths of Faithful Witness
That’s one reason I was drawn to a recent book that deserves more attention: Joyful Outsiders by Patrick Miller and Keith Simon. The authors describe six distinct temperaments or approaches to the Christian life, each with its own orientation toward culture, each with guiding strengths and potential pitfalls. Their framework helps us appreciate the different ways the Spirit shapes Christlike character in his people.
The Trainer
The Trainer loves the spiritual disciplines and longs to see God’s people formed into a holy counterculture that reflects Christ’s beauty. Trainers see that every human heart, prone to evil, can be reshaped by grace through prayer, fasting, and Scripture. They believe the church changes the world not by imitation but by transformation, by embodying holiness, justice, and generosity. They practice saying no to lesser things so they can say yes to God, cultivating endurance and trust through daily obedience. Yet sometimes this discipline can sour into pride, and zeal for holiness can harden into legalism, creating distance from those they long to help.
The Advisor
The Advisor understands that influence often flows through institutions and seeks to bring wisdom and integrity into those spaces. He or she knows that proximity to power, when stewarded faithfully, can be used for the common good. Advisors work quietly but strategically, guiding leaders toward justice and mercy through character and excellence. Their strength is discernment in morally gray terrain, knowing that even partial goodness is better than evil. Yet sometimes their closeness to power carries danger: the temptation to mistake access for faithfulness, to keep one’s place at the table rather than speak truth to it.
The Artist
The Artist perceives light where others see only darkness and reveals glimpses of the kingdom through beauty. People with this temperament understand that God wired the human soul to hunger for what’s lovely and that true beauty can heal what evil has marred. Artists are known for culture care more than culture war, using creativity to awaken longing and confront despair. They live between joy and sorrow, empathizing with the world’s pain while imagining new possibilities through hope-filled vision. Yet sometimes their sensitivity can isolate them; misunderstood or discouraged, they may drift toward despair or cynicism, forgetting the Beauty that first called them to create.
The Ambassador
The Ambassador delights in sharing good news—building bridges, making friends, and pointing people to Jesus one conversation at a time. These evangelists believe every heart longs for God and that only the gospel can fill that void. Their posture is relational and invitational, focused less on winning arguments and more on winning people. Ambassadors watch their conduct so their lives adorn the message they proclaim. Yet sometimes their zeal for conversions can lead them to treat people like projects or to sandpaper the offensive parts of the gospel, forgetting that true evangelism leads not merely to decisions but to deeper discipleship.
The Protester
The Protester burns with a holy fire for justice, sensing God’s grief over oppression and his call to resist it. This kind of activist believes the moral arc of the universe bends toward God’s righteousness and that believers are called to join in bending it. Protesters challenge evil, rallying others through both word and deed. Rooted in biblical ethics and the nonviolent witness of Christ, they display courageous hope, convinced that truth spoken in love still changes hearts. Yet sometimes protest can become performance. When outrage eclipses humility, the cause overshadows the kingdom, and righteous anger corrodes into self-righteous fury.
The Builder
The Builder loves to make things that last—institutions, organizations, or communities that embody the common good. Builders resist our culture’s individualism by forming places where virtue and belonging take root. They labor toward Jesus’s dream rather than the American dream, crafting structures that serve others and reflect God’s order and beauty. But sometimes a builder’s drive for results can turn into control. When efficiency trumps grace and the ends justify the means, what began as kingdom work can devolve into personal empire.
Symphony of Grace
We need all these types, all these temperaments. The church at its best will bless Trainers and Artists, Protesters and Builders, Ambassadors and Advisors because each one reflects a facet of Christ’s character and contributes something indispensable to the body. The church at its worst will self-segregate into a single posture and then launch grenades at their brothers and sisters in other camps.
The world may celebrate sameness, but the Spirit delights in holy difference. Jesus doesn’t make clones; he redeems personalities. In his hands, our varied temperaments aren’t erased but restored, renewed, and refitted for his purposes. Together we become a symphony of grace, harmonizing distinct callings into a single song of glory. And when the song is finished, the world will marvel not at our sameness but at the Savior whose glory will be displayed through the multifaceted brilliance of holiness in his people.
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