Not all conflict has to go to trial.
—LeRoy Armstrong
Their wedding day approaching, a young couple I’d been counseling was stuck. They couldn’t agree about anything—the order of the ceremony, the ring bearer, the reception. Feeling misunderstood, they couldn’t look at each other without arguing.
My first instinct was to help them resolve their dispute. But in talking with the young man, I learned the real source of their conflict: his future mother-in-law.
She was terrorizing their relationship by second-guessing almost every wedding decision they made. This was more than just an enthusiastic mother of the bride. She ended up imposing her will on their wedding and their relationship. The bride felt torn between her mother and her husband-to-be.
I came to see their conflict on two fronts: the communication breakdown between the couple, and the interference by the future mother-in-law. The couple’s conflict did not seem abnormal; engagement is always a time of high stress. The tension created by the mother-in-law, however, threatened their relationship.
But I chose not to confront their own tensions.
“Communication with your future wife will improve over time,” I advised. “Your conflict is a normal part of learning to relate to each other.
“Your mother-in-law’s meddling, however, is a different matter. Time will only make it worse. If you don’t address the issue, it could potentially sabotage your marriage.” I recommended confrontation.
I was right. After a particularly difficult face-to-face with the mother of the bride, both conflicts were resolved.
Two conflicts, two responses.
That experience taught me that some battles need to be fought, while others can be finessed. Church conflicts also require a variety of prescriptions. Conflict over critical doctrinal matters—how does one become a Christian, for example—demands immediate attention. The same is true with biblical lifestyle issues like immorality. Confrontation is the only option.
But drawing a line in the sand is not always necessary or helpful. Here are three ways confrontation can be avoided.
Friendly neglect
Our Sunday school had been dwindling for years. In a swing away from tradition, the church leadership decided to abandon the Sunday school ministry and pursue small groups. In addition to reaching a larger audience, small groups would provide the relational component so desperately needed in our large metropolitan community. Some of our members commuted from thirty miles away.
Conflict erupted immediately.
“Why are you messing with the Sunday school program?” grumbled an unhappy church member. Via the grapevine, she had learned we were thinking about changing our format.
To the few who attended, Sunday school was as biblical as David and Goliath. And changing the program was tantamount to abandoning the Christian faith.
The conflict wasn’t shaking our church’s foundation, but it wouldn’t go away either. We had considered the feelings of the faithful few who attended week in and week out. Their concerns were important to us, but we still felt God’s leading in launching our small-group ministry.
Instead of cutting out the Sunday school altogether (confronting the problem), then, we let it drift, treating it with benign neglect. The staff, instead of pouring its energies into what for us is a ministry of a bygone era, is implementing the small-group ministry.
Through neglect, the dying ministry has deteriorated even further. Now only one class meets regularly. But we’re permitting the Sunday school, anemic though it may be, to exist. After we launch the Concord Center for Biblical Studies, we plan to have an official burial for our Sunday school.
Until then, appeasing the contingent who can’t survive without a Sunday school is the most effective way to sidestep conflict.
Go the extra mile
When I first stepped in as singles pastor, the church had several choirs, one of which was a singles choir.
A conflict soon developed between the singles choir director and myself. Part of the problem was organizational: I reported directly to the senior pastor while he reported to the church’s music director. But both ministries drew from the same pool of single adults.
The issue was his lack of cooperation. His only interest was the choir, not the overall singles ministry. Since I was the singles pastor, my concern was how to minister to all the single adults in the church.
“Bob,” I said, “I’d like you to participate in our leadership planning meetings.”
“I’m the director of the singles choir,” he said repeatedly. “I don’t need to be part of the singles ministry.”
Aware of our impasses, the church leadership encouraged us to work together. But we couldn’t; the tension only heightened. Repeatedly I invited him to our planning meetings. I wanted his input and direction to the ministry. But it seemed that unless the issue related directly to the singles choir, he wanted no part of what we were doing. After one tense meeting, he refused to attend any more.
Frustrated, I felt like confronting him. After all, wasn’t I the singles pastor? I wanted to work through our differences and resolve the issues—quickly.
I restrained myself, however, and elected to go the extra mile—slowly. That turned out to be a wise move. The issue wouldn’t have been resolved by banging our heads together. Though eager to clear up the heaviness this cast over the ministry, I patiently worked with, and around, him.
Eventually, due to a drop in participation, the singles choir disbanded.
I discovered later that our conflict was only a small part of the problems in his life. Looking back, extending grace to his hot-tempered leadership was the right decision. The situation called for grace, not confrontation.
Play your position
If every player on the Chicago Bulls tried to play Michael Jordan’s position, the team would self-destruct. Jordan is the undisputed superstar and team leader. Even Scottie Pippen, an NBA all-star and Olympian, can’t replace Jordan. Harmony—and championship performance—is the result of each person playing his own position.
Much of church conflict, I believe, can be avoided simply by playing our positions. Often conflict results when we’re dabbling in someone else’s area.
Recently, in a staff meeting, our lay evangelism director, who was new to the position, asked if the leadership could make an exception to their policy of not holding Friday night meetings. At our church, Friday evenings are sacred; people are encouraged to spend the night with their family.
“Friday evening is the only evening that all of my volunteers can make,” he said. “The training will only run for six weeks. Can you make an exception this time?”
“Sure,” I chimed in. “Your circumstances are unique. Go ahead.”
What I thought, however, didn’t matter. I wasn’t the senior pastor. I had overstepped my bounds. A gentle discussion later with the senior pastor showed me my error.
“Your answer was correct,” he said firmly, “but you should have deferred to me.”
Overstepping our areas of authority can produce unnecessary conflict. Playing our positions—making sure that the decision at hand is our call—is often a simple way to bypass conflict.
In the Bible, God paints his trophies of grace with warts and all. Even among two of his choice servants, Paul and Barnabas, conflict erupted. Conflict, it seems, is a normal part of church life. But not all of it has to go to trial.
Copyright © 1997
