Navigating Conflict with Grace
Week One
James 1:2-8, 4:1-12
Matthew 7:3-5
Today we’re kicking off our new sermon series on conflict, which is not something I’m looking forward to at all. This is a bad idea. You see, I’ve discovered something about myself. While I like to think of myself as someone who isn’t afraid to get in there and mix it up, I am actually conflict avoidant. I’m the kind of guy at a neighborhood barbecue, who just been handed what can only be described as a plate with a burnt burger and suspiciously limp coleslaw. Now, I know—deep in my heart—that I do not want to eat this. But do I say anything? Of course not! Because that feels like conflict.
I will do anything to avoid hurting this host’s feelings. So there I am, chewing on a burger that’s basically charcoal in patty form, doing that nod-and-grin routine we all do when someone says, ‘It’s my grandmother’s recipe!’ And I’m thinking, ‘Your grandmother must hate me.’ But I keep going—because, in that moment, avoiding the awkward conversation matters more to me than my taste buds or my dignity. But then, after I’ve powered through this “burger”, I’ll say something like, ‘Wow, that’s fantastic!’
But that’s only if you’re watching me the whole time. If you’re the one who made the burger, and you turn away, that burger is going in my pocket, ketchup and all.
Are you like that, too?
Would you rather endure a burger that tastes like it was grilled over the fires of Mount Doom, or make an unfortunate discovery at laundry time (did I wash a hamburger again?) than risk a slightly uncomfortable conversation with your neighbor? Because, trust me, I’m there with you. But…if we can’t face a harmless backyard barbecue misfire, how are we supposed to handle real, meaningful conflict? The big stuff. The life-changing stuff.
Our culture is so conflicted, and so many of the role models we have for engaging in conflict are so focused on winning, on scoring points, that if we don't want to play that game, we don't know what to do! So we withdraw. We retreat. We quit. But there's still this voice in our heads that says that's not right either.
Avoid Destructive Conflict
Now, before we go any further this morning, let me say this: sometimes the best thing we can do is avoid a particular conflict—especially one that’s clearly destructive or abusive. There’s no virtue in wading into a situation that’s going to harm you physically or emotionally. In those cases, it’s not conflict avoidance; it’s wisdom and self-care.
For example, if someone in your life constantly tears you down, or a conversation keeps turning threatening or manipulative, that’s not “healthy conflict.” That’s a harmful situation that may require professional support, distance, or even legal protection. So as we learn to engage the conflicts God does call us into, let’s remember: we are called to love and protect ourselves and others. Sometimes that means saying “No” and stepping away so real healing and safety can be pursued.
But sometimes our experience with unhealthy conflict makes us avoid the good stuff too.
That restlessness we feel—that sense that we shouldn’t run—is important. When we ignore conflict, we might avoid the immediate discomfort, but we never move toward actual resolution. We never give God the chance to transform us through the hard stuff. And that transformation is exactly what can happen when we step into trials with faith instead of fear.
So for the next six weeks, we’re going to be digging into how to navigate conflict with grace.
James
Today we’re going to look at what James, the brother of Jesus, has to teach us about conflict. Can you imagine being Jesus’ brother? Talk about living in someone’s shadow. Do you think that maybe Jesus gave noogies to his little brother James? But then after his resurrection, James became one of the major leaders of the Church. He moved from seeing Jesus as his brother, to his Master, and to the incarnate Son of God. So I always give his letter a little more weight.
And the first thing he says in his letter is this:
My brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy, (James 1:2)
Now, I don’t know about you, but when I read that, my first thought is, “What kind of joy is James talking about here?” Because this must not be the same kind of joy as when you find out there’s cake. No, he’s pointing to something deeper and potentially transformative.
James is inviting us to reframe how we see conflict and trials altogether. What if, instead of seeing conflict as something to fear or avoid, we saw it as an opportunity? What if these trials are less about pain and discomfort and more about growth and transformation? That’s what James is getting at. He’s saying, “Don’t waste the hard stuff. God can use it to do something incredible in you.”
3 because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance; 4 and let endurance have its full effect, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking in nothing.
That’s the kind of opportunity that conflict gives us. To be mature. To be the grown-ups in the room…the kind of people who don’t pretend that they can’t smell that thing in the fridge, who shrink away from hard conversations, who worry that no one will like them if they bring up something uncomfortable. The kind of people who see conflict as an opportunity to connect and talk about things that really matter. You know, wise people. James goes on…
5 If any of you is lacking in wisdom, ask God, who gives to all generously and ungrudgingly, and it will be given you.
James can make a big promise like that because wisdom isn’t just knowing the right thing to do, it’s doing it. And for the most part, we all know exactly what needs to be done, or said, but we’re not sure how to say it and we’re afraid of doing it.
6 But ask in faith, never doubting, for the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, driven and tossed by the wind; 7,8 for the doubter, being double-minded and unstable in every way, must not expect to receive anything from the Lord.
I think the doubter here is someone like me and maybe you who gets so nervous about conflict that we think maybe the wind will take care of it. Like maybe if I gesture with my burger slowly, they will see how burnt it is, and offer me a new one, and I won’t have to say “You know, my burger is little burnt. Could I have another one?” Which will of course result in everyone booing me.
Wisdom means doing the good that you know you need to do.
But here’s the question: if conflict can be this incredible opportunity for growth—if wisdom means doing the good we know we need to do—why does it still feel so messy? Why do we keep ending up in these tense, painful situations we’d rather run from or just wish away?
James gets right to the heart of it in chapter 4 when he asks,
James 4:1 Those conflicts and disputes among you, where do they come from?
and then offers a blunt answer
Do they not come from your cravings that are at war within you?
He knows the real battle often isn’t just out there somewhere—it’s within us. Our own fears, our own hurts, our own unspoken desires can twist even the smallest disagreement into a raging conflict.
He writes:
You want something and do not have it; so you commit murder. And you covet something and cannot obtain it; so you engage in disputes and conflicts.
That first sentence seems a little extreme—murder? But I sure have seen that second line play out a over and over again, haven’t you? There’s something in someone’s life that bothering them, something or someone they want but can’t have, some throbbing ache of loneliness they’d rather not feel, so they start an argument about something else?
That’s why conflict is such an opportunity. When we don’t acknowledge what’s really going on underneath—our fears, our worries, the sadness we don’t want to face—we find an outlet for it somewhere else. We lash out instead of open up. Anger often feels more powerful than admitting we’re scared or sad. And so, the temperature keeps going up in our culture, as people focus on “big issues” that look neat and simple from a distance, because the ones that are close up are messy and complicating and upsetting in an entirely different way.
And when we see that about the people we are avoiding conflict with, we can’t help but see it about ourselves too. I do that too. We’re all just sinners, aren't we?
And often, that realization gives us enough release from our cognitive dissonance that we might stop right there. But here’s how it usually goes when we see that: It’s easy to see how other people are sinning. Then we realize that we are sinners too, so we try not to judge other people too harshly. And that’s where it stops! But that’s not where it’s supposed to stop.
James remembered what his brother taught about people having stuff in their eyes. But to avoid conflict, we only remember the first half.
Logs and Specks in our Eyes
Matthew 7:3 Why do you see the speck in your neighbor's eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye? 4 Or how can you say to your neighbor, “Let me take the speck out of your eye”, while the log is in your own eye?
But that’s not the end of the teaching. It’s just the set-up.
5 You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your neighbor's eye.
Having stuff in our eyes is a PROBLEM that we should all be helping each other with. It’s not about hushing up and looking the other way. It’s about being humble enough to admit, “I have issues, you have issues, we all need help,” and then caring enough to offer that help.
Conflict isn’t just a chance to argue; it’s an opportunity to really see each other, logs and specks and all. The world tells us to mind our own business. But God never does.
James has a harsh word for people who follow the way of the world.
4 Adulterers! Do you not know that friendship with the world is enmity with God? Therefore whoever wishes to be a friend of the world becomes an enemy of God.
The way of the world is to never acknowledge the log in our eyes, and hope the specks in our neighbor’s eyes drive them crazy. So we have to be the kind of people who help others with the specks in their eyes. First by acknowledging and removing the logs in our own. Then politely pointing out their specks, and being open to their pointing out the specks that we have left. That’s what healthy conflict looks like. That’s why it’s such an opportunity.
And that is why healthy conflict can be such an incredible opportunity—it’s God’s way of helping us become the kind of people who see and care for one another more than we care about being comfortable. But James doesn’t stop there. He goes on to challenge us in verse five.
5 Or do you suppose that it is for nothing that the scripture says, “God yearns jealously for the spirit that he has made to dwell in us
In other words, God has placed something in us—a holy capacity to love and connect—that he desperately wants us to use. It’s like God gave us the most incredible new tool for Christmas, and it’s exactly what we need, and it would help us so much, but it’s just sitting on the shelf. And God is like, “WHY AREN’T YOU USING IT?”
God jealously yearns for us to embrace this spirit of caring enough to say what needs to be said, to have conversations no one else will have, and to do it all with humility and grace.
Look at the way James describes this spirit in verses 6–10. He writes, “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble,” and then he calls us to submit to God, resist the devil, and draw near to God. That’s not a picture of aggression or self-preservation; it’s one of honest surrender. Of people who aren’t afraid of looking foolish, or being judged, who aren’t scared at all, because why would we be? God loves us. We love ourselves. And we love everybody, right? Right? What is there to be so scared of?
Then James says, “Cleanse your hands… purify your hearts… Lament and mourn and weep.” It’s intense, but it shows how seriously we meant to take what’s wrong—both in us and in the world. Instead of getting offended or combative or worried, we feel the weight of sin enough to grieve it. When we see brokenness…whether it’s our own or someone else’s…we don’t roll our eyes. We ache with compassion. And in that place of vulnerability, we find the courage to do what’s right, trusting that God will “exalt” us in due time.
But how do we actually do this? How do we confront the real issues without tearing each other down? James answers that in the final verses we’re looking at today:
James 4:11–12
Do not speak evil against one another, brothers and sisters. Whoever speaks evil against another or judges another, speaks evil against the law and judges the law; but if you judge the law, you are not a doer of the law but a judge.There is one lawgiver and judge who is able to save and to destroy. So who, then, are you to judge your neighbor?
This is where we see the most crucial truth: the goal of healthy conflict isn’t to attack people, but to address the problem.
Attack the Problem, Not the Person
When we speak evil against someone—when we judge them, or call them names, as if we’re the ultimate authority—we forget there is one Lawgiver and Judge, and it ain’t us. Yes, we should call out sin or brokenness when we see it. Yes, we’re meant to help each other with our “logs and specks.” But we do it with compassion, not condemnation.
Think about it: if I see you as the problem, I’m going to go after you—your character, your worth, your dignity. But if I see the issue as the problem—be it the hurt, the misunderstanding, the bad habit, the social injustice—then we can stand side by side, working together to face it.
We need to attack the problem, not the person. We stay humble. We refuse to slam or belittle each other. And we trust that God really did give us this spirit of caring enough to speak honestly, yet gently.
Only God has the authority to judge a person’s value. Our job is to love our neighbors, even when those conversations are hard—especially when they’re hard—and to speak the truth in love so that together we can find real healing and growth. That’s the opportunity conflict gives us, if we’ll take it.
So how can we live this out?
I know that I for one absolutely want to be the kind of person who draws in and asks curious questions instead of assuming I’ll be rejected from the outset. Don’t you?
Don’t you want to “be curious, not judgmental” like Ted Lasso?
Think for a moment about someone you would characterize as being relentlessly curious. I’ll bet they came to your mind, not because they like science, or history, but because of the way they encounter other people, in particular those who are different from themselves. They aren’t afraid. They don’t shy away. They don’t assume things will go poorly. They don’t just like to learn, they see in other people what God sees.
Someone who when confronted with someone espousing a position that they strongly disagree with, instead of assuming they know the person from their position, asks good questions.
Here’s one you can try out: “Can you tell me about some experiences that you’ve had in your life that led you to take the position that you just shared?”
Now imagine what our church community could look like if we truly lived this out.
Picture a place where disagreements don’t end with silent grudges, but with genuine understanding and renewed trust. A place where asking honest questions is normal—where “Can you tell me how you arrived at that perspective?” isn’t code for “I think you’re wrong,” but an invitation to see more of each other’s hearts. Where instead of avoiding that one person we always seem to clash with, we see them as a gift from God—a chance to grow in love, humility, and grace.
In that kind of church, you’d find people who aren’t afraid to admit their own blind spots. You’d see brothers and sisters helping each other with logs and specks, not out of spite or judgment, but because we know we can only be whole when we’re whole together. You’d see humility without shame and correction without condemnation. You’d watch folks step into tension, not because they enjoy conflict, but because they believe God is at work precisely where it feels messy.
This is the kind of community I want to be a part of, one that makes the world stop and say, “Something is different here.”
A place where curiosity overcomes suspicion, where conflict leads to connection instead of division, and love—real, messy love—shows the world who Jesus truly is.
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