When my older daughter was fourteen, her closest high school friends were a Jewish girl and a Muslim girl. They traded holidays the way most teens trade memes: with joy and curiosity. Our family hosted them for Easter; they welcomed her for Hannukah and to break the Ramadan fast. I used to call them, half-jokingly, the World Peace Club. In their easy friendship, I saw a picture of what the church longs to be — a community where difference isn’t erased, but received as a gift.

And then came October 7, 2023. Violence in southern Israel, war in Gaza, unimaginable grief for Israelis and Palestinians. These global events did not stay international. They landed in school hallways and on social media feeds; they lodged themselves in the hearts of three young women who cared deeply about one another and also about their own peoples’ suffering.

My daughter’s Jewish friend shared posts calling attention to the trauma in Israel. The Muslim friend amplified voices calling for justice for Palestinians. Each teenager was responding to real pain in her community. Each was trying to honor her people’s story.

But slowly and awkwardly, the trio stopped hanging out. The easy invitations and celebratory spirit gave way to silence and uncertainty. Their World Peace Club dissolved under the pressure of war.

I thought about the church — especially our Christian Reformed communities in Canada, where we long to reflect the multi-ethnic body of Christ and build meaningful intercultural relationships. Like those teenagers, we love celebration and hospitality. We are blessed with congregations shaped by people from many nations. We know God calls us to be a reconciling people. Yet, if three bright teenagers with goodwill and affection struggled to hold together under global tension, what does that say to us?

It says that diversity is beautiful, but not easy. It says that hospitality and celebration are a wonderful beginning, but in a world shaped by trauma, conflict, and competing narratives, we also need skills for lament, listening, and staying at the table when the conversation gets hard.

We know that in Canada, God has placed us in a particular story — one where reconciliation with Indigenous peoples is not optional or symbolic but essential to our discipleship. We cannot claim to be people of reconciliation globally if we are not practicing it locally, on this land, with the Indigenous neighbours whose stories have been wounded here.

Intercultural ministry and Indigenous-Settler reconciliation share some of the same spiritual disciplines:

• Listening that outlasts discomfort
• Honouring another’s grief without diminishing our own
• Understanding that community requires truth-telling
• Learning not only to share food and worship, but also lament and responsibility

Ephesians 2 reminds us that Jesus “is our peace,” breaking down dividing walls of hostility. That is not sentiment — it is formation. It is Spirit-empowered practice.

I still believe in the World Peace Club. However, peace requires more than shared meals; it requires shared maturity, humility, and hope. May our churches be places where all three can grow — where we learn to sit together in joy and in sorrow, trusting that the God who began a good work among us will carry it forward into a reconciled future.