If I had to choose, I would say that my second favourite Sunday in the church year — just behind Easter — is Pentecost. In the past, I have had the blessing of serving very diverse congregations, and Pentecost always proved an exciting opportunity to celebrate not only our differences, but also the faith we held in common.

When I served in Japan, it was customary for everyone to wear red socks to worship on Pentecost Sunday. We would often read Acts chapter 2 in as many languages as we could, sometimes rereading verses to ensure we included all the language groups represented in the congregation. It was an inspiring reminder that the Holy Spirit had indeed fallen upon all flesh.

Historically, Christians have not always navigated difference well. In fact, part of our Reformation DNA is rooted in claims about being the true church or the true people of God. Have you read the Westminster Confession of Faith lately? It contains some harsh things about the Pope and the Roman Catholic Church. Thankfully, successive General Assemblies — along with many other Reformed churches — have distanced themselves from those parts of the confession, seeking in some small way to build bridges with brothers and sisters whose understanding of faith may seem foreign to us.

I, for one, am continually astounded by the diversity of the PCANZ. It reminds me that though we may not be a Pentecostal denomination, we are indeed a church bearing the marks of the Holy Spirit’s activity in drawing diverse people together in worship and witness.

In my work at KCML, I am the only person in the whole of the PCANZ who works across all presbyteries with candidates training for the ministry of Word and Sacrament. At times, it can feel overwhelming to wrestle with the myriad ways our church expresses itself across the motu through its various linguistic, ethnic, theological, and geographic contexts.

What I have come to learn is that holding together across diversity is not something that comes naturally to us. We all live and experience faith within particular contextual frames, and transcending those frames requires hard work, humility, and goodwill. This is not simply true of ethnic or linguistic diversity; it also applies to theological diversity. We all make sense of Jesus and the gospel through the contexts that have shaped us. Encountering other faithful expressions can therefore be unsettling and challenging.

And yet, this hard work may be one of the clearest callings facing our church today. In a world increasingly marked by polarization and division, the church’s unity and solidarity become a vital witness to the gospel.

Whenever I encounter this challenge, it helps me to remember that unity is not something we create for ourselves. It is something God has already made real in Jesus Christ. As I read the gospel accounts of Jesus calling the disciples, I am always struck that nowhere do we read of the disciples choosing one another. In fact, we often see the opposite. The disciples jockey for position and proximity to Jesus, and Jesus’ rebukes of Peter serve as sober reminders that, left to our own devices, we often make faith about ourselves.

But the gospel is not about us.

What united the disciples was not a common pedigree, language, culture, or even shared understanding. The one thing they shared was this: they had each been called by Jesus. They were chosen by him, not by one another.

I celebrate this whenever I lead a workshop at a presbytery gathering or teach a class at KCML. Increasingly, the people gathered together reflect the beautiful reality of Pentecost. It reminds me that it is the Spirit of the living God who has drawn us together. Our task is to receive that gift — and to embrace both the challenge and the grace of those whom God has placed in our midst.

In God’s power, may it be so.