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fight conflict

I kind of hate conflict. With the exception of my anger issues with my kiddos, conflict tends to sideline me in a head-between-my-knees, breathe-into-a-paper-bag kind of way. It’s super-attractive and mature.

Which is why, when it’s over, part of me would opt to skip away with a “tra-la-la” brand of obliviousness. Maybe I would spring to the beach, where I could bury parts of my body in the warm sand. Preferably my head.

A recent conflict weirdness reminded me of the thing about conflict: “What causes quarrels and what causes fights among you? Is it not this, that your passions are at war within you?” (James 4:1).

Aha! And not the good kind

See, conflict flays open what pushes and pulls me. Even when the weirdness only whiffed of conflict, and I was running for the hills, arms pinwheeling.

And when I say that, I mean my brain was hopping like fleas to completely the worst possible conclusions about myself, the situation, the other person. 

I needed to rein in my galloping brain. So I did what I do when I am trying to Make Sense of the World: I wrote things.

I pulled my thick red journal from my nightstand, the one that shall be burned in the event of my death. I scrawled categories like Emotions, Truth to Remember, and What do I desire? The latter needed two categories, eloquently labeled Good and Not So Much. (Care to guess which column was longer?)

The After Story

Resolution of the conflict itself was so much smoother and more gracious than the scenario envisioned by the fearful, bear-in-a-trap version of myself.

I may have phoned my husband for one of those “You were right” conversations. He graciously pointed out that if I’m going to be publishing a book, perhaps I may need to develop alternate strategies for encountering potential opposition.

The next day I was ready to shake it off! Shake it off! But the underbelly of who I am had been exposed. It was generally not a pleasant one. Considering the encouraging outcome of the conflict, it was a kind way of God to expose some of my soul-holes.

To be clear: Some idols of mine had been uncovered. They’d swollen beyond proportion, to become too valuable to me. They were no longer desires, but demands. A friend referenced one of Charles Spurgeon’s quotes:

Brother, if any man thinks ill of you, do not be angry with him; for you are worse than he thinks you to be. If he charges you falsely on some point, yet be satisfied, for if he knew you better he might change the accusation, and you would be no gainer by the correction.

So it was back to the red journal. Self-imposed prompts of the day after:

  • What did God reveal to me in this?
  • God, what do you want me to understand? (Check out Psalm 139:23-24.)

It will probably be a working list, because I need to mull over this more: not to dwell on the conflict, but to understand what happened in me, and why.

Conflict: My Handpicked Homework

Richard Foster speaks of meditating not just on God’s Word, but on the “events of our times”.

I see Mary do this, when she “treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart”. The word translated pondering literally means to throw together/encounter/consider/discuss. I believe the conflict in my life is an assignment from God.

So rather than phoning it in, it makes sense to chew on it; to do the heart-work, so to speak. I had to ask myself: Would I rather put this awkwardness behind me, or let God unpack it for me?

Maybe I’ll always want to skirt conflict like it’s a worldwide pandemic. But slowly, my assignments are changing me.

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