liturgical, and Reformed friends— the program seemed designed to generate a particular kind of emotionally charged experience that felt more at home in some churches than others.
At the start of this year, I sent an email to our combined pastors group offering to help organize and musically direct the Karakia event being planned for May 24.
Two pastors wrote back immediately. They’ d already decided to do it the same way as last year— same venue( the one with the better stage, PA, lights, IEMs, and concert-like soundabsorption panels), same team doing all the music, presumably from their own repertoire and in their own style.
All good, they said. Thanks anyway. You could play bass in the band if you wanted.
I could have left it there.
I do love playing my bass guitar, after all.
But I didn’ t.
I reached out to the pastors who were drifting away from the planning. Carefully, respectfully, I asked why. They didn’ t want to seem rude or critical, but eventually they told me the truth: certain emphases in the way the event was shaping up didn’ t align with how they were shepherding their own congregations. They weren’ t disengaged. They were trying to pastor their people faithfully. But to the two get-it-done lead pastors, it looked like disinterest.
Then things became more difficult.
When I explained what I’ d discovered to the main organizing pastors, I expected understanding. What I got was resistance.
They’ re both good guys— friends of mine, passionate followers of Jesus. But there were a lot of excuses, a lot of downplaying, and a big dollop of insensitivity to the position of the other church leaders.
“ They shouldn’ t be concerned about that. It’ ll be fine. We’ re not going to do anything extreme.”
And beneath it all, a kind of offense— affronted by the suggestion that their gathering might feel exclusionary.
“ Only a few from their churches came last year anyway. They are welcome, of course, but if they don’ t want to come, we can’ t make them!”
Their intentions were good. Wasn’ t that enough?
But good intentions and actual inclusion aren’ t the same thing.
Like Pastor Joe from last month’ s article, the assumption was clear: if we mean well, everyone else will automatically feel welcomed and safe.
I had to name it. Not harshly, but directly.
“ Different people have different preferences about how music functions as an expression of worship. That diversity is beautiful. It’ s natural. But the problem comes when preference becomes superiority— when we assume our way is the better way, the right way, the only way that truly honors God. If Karakia is truly to be a combined churches event— an expression of oneness in the Body of Christ in our region— we may need to reduce or even remove some elements that we love in order to make room for everyone.”
“ Karakia must be a celebration of Pentecost. Not Pentecostalism.”
They remained unconvinced. But over the next few days, something shifted.
The two lead pastors placed a few calls, scheduled another meeting, and heard what I’ d been saying from the horses’( pastors’) mouths.
The conclusion was simple: if Karakia was held at a different venue, and if I was entrusted with shaping the program— including the music— all the represented churches would participate. I wasn’ t present for that meeting, but I’ m confident those concerns weren’ t presented as gun-to-the-head ultimatums. They were simply the heartfelt concerns of brothers who shared the same gospel while holding different theological emphases. The previously reluctant churches were no longer seen as unenthusiastic or rebellious, but as valued participants.
I was genuinely pleased to get the call inviting me to fill the organizing and musical directing role. What that actually meant— the decisions we made about venue, promotion, ensemble, song selection, and more— I’ ll unpack in next month’ s article.
But please allow me to leap ahead for a moment.
I’ m sure I’ m biased, but I think Karakia 2026 was a wonderful success— and several pastors and many others I spoke with afterwards agreed. We filled the room. Every generation, every skin color, and every congregation was represented. The Church gathered. We prayed together. We read Scripture together. We sang together. Man, did we sing!
The sense of joy, celebration, and unity was very real and present. God’ s gift of His Holy Spirit was well and truly celebrated. A wonderful birthday party for the Church.
A couple of weeks later, I slipped into the next pastors meeting. Sitting there was a pastor we hadn’ t seen in years. And the local Catholic priest— someone I’ d never met before. Neither of them had attended Karakia, but some of their congregants had told them about it, and so they wanted to be part of the conversation.
Grant Norsworthy Grant is the founder of More Than Music Mentor- providing online & onsite training for the heart & the art of worshipping singers, instrumentalists & technicians. Grant’ a passion is to IMPROVE musicality, INCREASE participation, INSTILL unity & INSPIRE worship in The Church worldwide. An Aussie who also lived in Nashville, TN, USA for 17 years as a pro CCM muso, today Grant lives and works from his Nelson New Zealand home base.
MoreThanMusicMentor. com Facebook. com / GrantNorsworthy
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