That They May Be One – John 17:20–23

There is something holy
about being one—
the swell of voices
hearts caught in a single rhythm.
Or friends,
who have carried one another
through laughter and lament,
their lives stitched together.
Or a song that names a nation:
We are one, but we are many.
And for a moment
the fragments belong
to something larger.

On the night before his death,
Jesus prayed for us:
that we would be one,
as he and the Father are one.

Unity is not our invention;
it is born in heaven.
The Father chose his people,
the Son shed his blood,
the Spirit gathers us still—
three Persons, one God,
the holy pattern for the church.

Unity is not sameness.
The church is not a choir of one note
but a symphony,
flutes and timpani, violins and harp,
all keeping time with Christ.

We are one body:
Christ the head,
every member essential,
every gift indispensable.

From every language and land,
from the wealthy and the poor,
from those who wrestle with illness
to those who overflow with energy—
we are diverse,
yet held in one Spirit,
like nations gathered before the throne.

Our bond is not in politics,
or culture,
or even friendship.
It is Christ himself,
the gospel proclaimed by the apostles,
the faith once delivered.

Some truths are foundations—
Christ’s divinity,
his resurrection not as metaphor but reality,
salvation by grace through faith,
the mystery of the Trinity.
These we must never let slip,
for without them
the house of faith collapses.

Other matters are convictions:
baptism given to infants or to adults,
tongues spoken or silent,
women leading or not—
they matter,
and they shape our practice,
but they do not tear us
from the body of Christ
so long as we kneel
under the authority of God’s Word.

And then there are opinions—
drums or no drums,
robes or plain clothes,
ancient hymn or new chorus.
Too often we build walls from these,
and forget that Christ
has already torn the greater wall down.

Our unity is the gospel.
Nothing less,
nothing more.

But unity is fragile.
It must be guarded,
contended for,
nurtured like a flame.

Leaders stumble,
friends wound,
resentment festers in the shadows.
Spurgeon was right:
Satan hates fellowship,
and delights in every crack
that drives us apart.

So we must fight—
not with clenched fists
but with open hands;
not with sharp words
but with truth wrapped in love.
We must forgive,
listen,
stay at the table
when it would be easier to walk away.

For the world is watching,
and when they see a people
from every tongue and tribe
bound together by Christ,
they will glimpse the very heart of God.

As Jesus prayed:
that they may be one,
so the world may believe
that you have sent me.

Original message by Andrew West, The Bridge Church Macquarie Park NSW
24 August 2025