Following last week’s local elections in England, along with elections in the Welsh Senedd and the Scottish Parliament, there is a particular sadness in recognising how divided we have become.

The results of last week’s elections across the United Kingdom revealed not simply changing political loyalties, but a deeper mood within the nation: frustration, weariness, anger, distrust and, in many places, a profound sense that people no longer feel heard. The elections saw significant losses for both Labour and Conservative candidates, alongside major gains for smaller parties including Reform UK and the Greens. Commentators have spoken of the increasing fragmentation of British politics and the collapse of old certainties.

Of course, Christians will hold differing political convictions. Faithful discipleship does not require uniformity of political opinion, nor should the Church ever become the mouthpiece of a single party or ideology. Yet moments like these do force us to ask difficult questions about the kind of society we are becoming.

Public life increasingly feels shaped by suspicion and hostility. Debate hardens into contempt. Opponents become enemies. Social media rewards outrage over understanding. Fear becomes easier to stir than hope. Many people now carry a lingering sense of unease about the future of the country, the stability of communities and the possibility of genuine common life together.

Into such a climate, the words of Jesus in John 17 that the Church of England will reflect upon this coming Sunday (17th of May) speak with remarkable clarity and urgency.

On the night before his crucifixion, Jesus prays for his disciples. And at the heart of that prayer is a plea for unity:

“That they may all be one.”

This is not a call for bland agreement or the erasure of difference. Christian unity has never meant uniformity. The disciples themselves were strikingly different people: impulsive and cautious, political and apolitical, faithful and fearful. Yet Christ calls them together into something deeper than preference or ideology. He calls them into communion rooted in him.

That matters enormously.

Because the unity Jesus prays for is not simply about the internal life of the Church. It is part of the Church’s witness to the world. Jesus continues:

“So that the world may believe.”

In other words, the credibility of Christian witness is tied, in part, to whether we are capable of loving one another across our differences.

That is challenging enough within the Church itself. But it also speaks into the wider culture in which we live. Christians are called to resist the temptation to mirror the divisions around us. We are not called to deepen hostility, baptise tribalism or retreat into ideological camps where we only speak to those who already agree with us.

Instead, Christians are called to be people of reconciliation.

That does not mean avoiding difficult conversations or pretending disagreements do not matter. It does not mean abandoning conviction. But it does mean recognising the humanity of those with whom we differ. It means listening carefully. Speaking truthfully and graciously. Refusing to delight in outrage. Refusing to reduce people to caricatures.

And perhaps most importantly, it means remembering that our deepest identity is not ultimately found in political tribes, national anxieties or cultural battles, but in Christ himself.

That is particularly important in moments of social uncertainty. When people feel anxious or unheard, division can become very seductive. It offers simple explanations, easy scapegoats and the comforting illusion that all problems are caused by “them.” History repeatedly shows how dangerous that can become.

The Church must offer something better.

Not naïve optimism. Not political withdrawal. But a different way of being human together.

The unity Jesus prays for is costly. It is shaped by forgiveness, humility, patience and sacrifice. It is the kind of unity only possible through grace. And it stands in sharp contrast to a culture increasingly tempted towards anger and fragmentation.

In the coming weeks, there will no doubt be endless analysis of electoral swings, party strategy and leadership crises. Much of that matters. Politics matters because people matter. Decisions made in councils and parliaments shape real lives and real communities.

But beneath the headlines lies a deeper spiritual question: what kind of people are we becoming?

As Christians, we are called to answer that question not simply with words, but with lives shaped by Christ’s prayer “that they may all be one.”

In an anxious and divided age, that calling may be more important than ever.