Conflict Resolution

“First be reconciled to your brother, and then come and present your offering” (Mt. 5:24).

 

My wife, older son, and I were returning from a road trip to the Midwest a few weeks ago. As we approached a very hot Atlanta from the Northwest, it was time to stop for gas, lunch, and a restroom break. Angling off the interstate, we noticed a shirtless man pushing a motorcycle up the exit ramp. Tamarah said as we got closer, “I wonder if that guy could use some help.” I replied, “Nah, there’s a gas station right up there and he’s got it.”

 

I coolly zipped right past the perspiring biker without a second thought. At the top of the ramp, Tamarah looked back at the biker plodding uphill, “I bet that guy could use our help.” Without commenting, I turned left, crossed the interstate, and went to the gas station I had my eye on. By the time we got to the gas pump, my wife was ticked. There were no words, but the vibe was obvious.

 

“What?” I said, acknowledging a problem but not grasping the extent of it. “We pray every morning,” she said earnestly, “that God would give us the awareness of people in need. Why do we pray that and then do nothing about it?” I volleyed back, “Don’t even go there. Do you live up to all YOUR prayers?” There was a quick back-and-forth, then silence.

 

We finished our business at QT and our son drove us home. Tamarah was in the back seat and I sat in the front passenger seat. Aside from the radio playing, it was a pretty quiet two-hour ride home—plenty of time to get ammoed up for the coming skirmish.

 

We arrived home in one piece but fractured. Each of us began quietly unloading the car and unpacking our suitcases. Once I had the suitcases put back in the attic, I went looking for Tamarah and found her sitting in the living room. The clock indicated it was 3:00pm. “Are we done with the motorcycle guy?” I asked. “No, we’re not,” Tamarah replied. “I’m still pretty ticked at you.” I said, “Well, that’s good, since I’m pretty ticked at you.” The exchange was just beginning to swirl when I heard our son doing something in the kitchen.

 

“Hey Nick,” I said, “come in here for just a minute.” “Yeah?” he asked. I said, “You saw and heard that exchange Mom and I had back in Atlanta, and we haven’t resolved it yet.” In a theological attempt to smooth things over, Nick said, “Well, everyone’s fallible.” “True enough,” I replied, “but I want you to witness [again, since he and his brother have grown up with us trying to model Biblical conflict resolution for them] how Mom and I resolve this issue.”

 

I continued, “Mom and I are on the cusp of the rabbit hole. We each have a gripe with the other, and if we keep at it like we have been, we’re going to go down that hole. And that  could be the beginning of the end.” Not that our marriage was going to end right there, but that the pattern of attack-defend-counterattack, if established and repeated long enough, would eventually rupture the relationship. I said, “But we’re not going to do that. We’re going to turn around and try another way.”

 

At this point I asked Tamarah what it was that was so hurtful to her when I blew past the biker. She said, “I can’t tell you how many times in all the years we’ve been married that I’ve asked you to stop for something like that, and you’ve never stopped. What if I believe the Spirit is prompting me to help someone, and I ask you to help me help them, but then you don’t. What am I supposed to do with that?”

 

I had no argument. Sadly, to my shame, she had her finger on an inconvenient truth. The fact is, I wasn’t afraid of the biker doing something to us. I knew if we stopped to help the guy, it was going to set us back thirty minutes or more. The part of the morning prayer Tamarah was throwing back at me was, in my mind, intended for grace for myself when I’m behind a slow driver in the left lane. Turns out my wife is taking that prayer and actually thinking more like the Good Samaritan.

 

“You’re right,” I said. “I can’t argue with that. While I’m really sorry I’ve hurt you like that in the past, here’s what I’m going to commit to moving forward: Anytime you ask me to stop, I’m going to stop without asking twenty questions or ignoring your request. I’m going to write this down and review it to make sure it happens.” “Thank you,” she said, with a degree of emphasis that underscored I was getting the point.

 

I responded, “What I want to ask you now is, Will you please forgive me?” “I can’t right now. I’m still too angry,” she said. I replied, “I get that. I know I’m asking a lot.” Tamarah went grocery shopping, and I started digging out of the admin work that piled while we were gone. At 6pm, Tamarah found me in the home office and asked if I had a minute. “Sure. What?” She said, “I want you to know that I forgive you. I do.” I said, “Thanks. I really appreciate that.”

 

She went on, “And now I need to ask you to forgive me.” At which point she covered an issue I had cited earlier. I’ll save those details for another day, but once Tamarah cleared the debt I had with her, we could hug, kiss, and be done.

 

The core steps of Biblical conflict resolution are Confessing (communicating to understand the experience of the offended), Repenting (committing to a change of behavior that goes the opposite direction of the offense), and Forgiving (where the offended pays the relational debt of the offender). With limitations of space here, there are many details I’m skipping. Still, my desire is that our imperfect example gives you hope that there’s a way through the conflicts you may be having. If you want some help working it out, I’d be glad to partner with you in it.

 

Because Christ reconciled you to himself with his grace, that same grace is available for you to be reconciled to each other.