Spring 2026 · Vol. 55 No. 1 · pp. 35–44
Peacemaking: Seeking the Shalom of the Local Church
Growing up in a family of four girls meant nothing stayed bottled up for long. We were open with one another, and that included hashing out our inevitable conflicts. My parents each came from families that did not really address conflict—things were swept under the rug. So they made a point in our household to bring issues out onto the table, quite literally.
If we take our Matthew 5:9 commission to be “peacemakers” and “agents of reconciliation” seriously, then we need to increase our capacity for conflict.
Perhaps you are familiar with the saying, “What’s your beef?” Once a month our family gathered around the table for what we called “beef night.” It was exactly what it sounds like. The agenda was simple: we went around the table and each took a turn expressing the “beef” we had with one another. The outcomes of these nights varied. Sometimes it felt p. 36 like nothing really got resolved. There were often tears—at least one full breakdown per night—but I distinctly remember the relief that came as the pressure from unspoken tensions was released.
Though the issues were rarely sorted out entirely in one evening, naming them brought them into the open so we could follow up and continue exploring them. While there are certainly things our family could have done better in those beef nights, what mattered most was that we went toward the issues.
When I think about our church families and faith communities, I wonder how well-developed our muscles are for going toward the issues. Do we create space to have our own kind of “beef nights”?
Peacemaking
As we think about what it means to be peacemakers and to seek the shalom of the local church, the idea of peacemaking can feel daunting. We may picture it happening on a grand scale or only in response to violent or extreme conflicts. And while that is one form of peacemaking, it can leave us wondering what it actually means to seek the shalom of our local congregations. What does it look like to bring peace into the ordinary rhythms of our communities?
Often when we seek shalom, what we are really achieving is an illusion of peace. We try to eradicate conflict, but we do this through superficial and unsatisfactory means. To achieve true shalom, we must participate in God’s holistic peace with God, with others, with creation, and with ourselves. This is a much more robust understanding of peace that, I believe, requires staying with the tension and leaning into the very real presence of conflict.
Conflict Is Not the Problem, It Is How We Respond
My own fascination with conflict emerged from seasons where I felt stuck. Particularly this was true in faith contexts, and even more specifically, Mennonite Brethren contexts. Growing up as a pastor’s kid, attending summer camp, completing my undergrad, and later serving as a pastor myself, I was immersed in these environments.
I wanted to understand why conflict escalates and how I could navigate it more effectively. I was often baffled. As followers of Jesus, should we not be the most equipped to handle relational complexity? In my naiveté, it did not make sense to me why conflict could go so wrong in faith communities. p. 37
But if we take our Matthew 5:9 commission to be “peacemakers” and “agents of reconciliation” seriously, then we need to increase our capacity for conflict. We need a greater threshold for tensions, disagreements, concerns, and the willingness to bring issues to the table.
Developing Our Muscles
I assistant coach our women’s volleyball team at Columbia Bible College, and one of my primary goals is to prepare our athletes for intense competition. We train specifically for matches that go to five sets—when they are exhausted but still need to perform and stay mentally engaged. We do not expect them to compete at that level on September 1. We train, we practice, we develop their muscles, and we prepare their minds and bodies for something that will stretch them.
In our church communities, if we want to engage in meaningful conversations of faith, if we want to stay committed to each other when we disagree, and if we want to confront one another when we cause harm, how are we preparing our communities for these incredibly demanding and challenging tasks? And how are we preparing ourselves, as leaders, to facilitate this growth?
This spring I was in East Africa with an MCC (Mennonite Central Committee) peace-building learning tour. In two weeks across Malawi and Zimbabwe, we were inundated with programs, initiatives, and trainings designed to build peace. The believers there embodied the hands and feet of Jesus and proclaimed his truth through relational and practical training at every interface: churches, prisons, refugee camps, schools, communities, and families.
They do not presume peace will simply happen. Our brothers and sisters in Christ are taking active steps to equip people to shift unhealthy patterns of conflict and apply holistic strategies to build peace.
Three Crucial Shifts
How are we training and developing our “muscles” to engage the conflicts that threaten to divide us? And like any good athlete, how are we equipping ourselves with tools of discernment to know what to do—and how to do it—in challenging circumstances? If we want to build this kind of capacity and shalom in our communities, it requires more than good intentions. It requires a different way of approaching conflict.
I propose three shifts that can increase our discernment: p. 38
-
A shift from “get it over with” to holding the tension with purpose
-
A shift from “having the answer” to initiating a process of discovery
-
A shift from “seeing people as the problem” to understanding the problems people are experiencing
A shift from “get it over with” to holding the tension with purpose
A lot of the conflict I am brought into begins because someone wanted to “get it over with.” There is a quick estimation of the problem, a rushed “resolution,” and then an expectation that everyone has moved on. We try to stamp out the issue or make it disappear, but instead of resolving it, the problem festers and gains momentum—often to the point where outside help becomes necessary.
When our mindset is “just get it over with,” our resolution methods can feel like a game of whack-a-mole. As soon as one issue is knocked down, another pops up, revealing something deeper that has not been addressed. So instead of rushing to get past the conflict, what would it look like to hold the tension—but with purpose?
My colleague John Radford has identified this needed shift after decades of work in high-intensity conflict zones. He often says, “Peace is not the absence of conflict, but the ability to hold the tension with purpose.” He has seen firsthand the limitations of trying to make conflict simply “go away.”
Why do we try to simply “get it over with”? Partly, it is not our conscious fault. Our bodies are wired for self-protection, and when we sense a threat, we react. Our brains are motivated to make the uncertainty, tension, and threat stop. This is where we see reactivity: fight, flight, freeze, or fawn. These are the responses that often escalate conflict rather than resolve it.
The problem is that when we are in this reactive state, access to the prefrontal cortex is cut off—the part of our brain responsible for attuned communication, emotional regulation, new information, problem-solving, and empathy. The very tools we need most in conflict become unavailable.
To resist the instinct to “get it over with,” we need to hold the tension long enough for our brains to come back online. We see this modeled beautifully in Joshua 22 and Acts 15.
Joshua 22. In Joshua 22, three tribes return to their land after faithfully serving alongside Israel. Along the way, they build what the text describes as “an imposing altar” (v. 10 NIV passim). That is all we are told, but it creates enough concern for the other tribes that in verse 12 we p. 39 read, “the whole assembly of Israel gathered at Shiloh to go to war against them.” An action is interpreted as a threat, and the immediate reaction is . . . prepare for war. Just a bit of reactivity.
The patterns of conflict are predictable: a trigger or threat is perceived, a story forms about what is happening, and then we respond based on that story. The story for the Israelites was abandonment of faith and rebellion against God.
Thankfully, before going to war, they hold the tension. They go toward the tribes, bringing their concerns to them—not as a declaration, but to verify.
Acts 15. We see something similar in Acts 15. Teaching arises that threatens to mislead new believers. In verse 1 we find, “Unless you are circumcised, according to the custom taught by Moses, you cannot be saved.”
Instead of dismissing the issue or attacking the teachers, they take the question to the apostles and elders for discernment. They hold the tension with purpose. And notice: things actually get worse before they get better. Some double down: “The Gentiles must be circumcised and required to keep the law of Moses” (v. 5).
As they engage the issue, the tension rises. This is exactly what happens when we hold the tension with purpose—we unearth realities that are often more complex than we assumed. And it is at this point that people often dip out. But this is precisely where we need to stay.
So how do we hold the tension with purpose? First, we remember that perseverance through tension matures our faith. James 1:2-4 tells us to consider it joy when we face trials because perseverance produces maturity. Conflict becomes an opportunity for spiritual formation.
Second, we embrace a method that helps us hold the tension with purpose. Building on John’s decades of conflict work and my own experience with schools, churches, and other organizations, we have developed a four-step method called Conflict Agility. This approach is designed to help individuals and communities stay agile and discern faithful action when conflict threatens to keep them stuck. It intentionally begins with a pause, a radical shift from our default responses.
-
The pause disrupts reactivity, interrupts the urgency, and brings our brains back online.
-
Next, we go in, asking questions, such as, What is happening within me? What story am I telling myself? p. 40
-
Third is to go up, asking, What is happening around me? What needs to shift?
-
Finally, we go out with these questions: How do I position myself for discerned action? What will I actually do?
Practicing this in real conflict takes time and intentionality. Our default functioning resists it. We must train these muscles. In both Scripture examples, as the communities held the tension with purpose, they mitigated harm, gained perspective, understood the real issues, and developed the capacity to stay in the discomfort.
A shift from having the “answer” to initiating a process of discovery
If the first shift invites us to slow down enough to hold the tension, this second shift is about how we stay in that tension. It is the move away from feeling pressure to have the answer and toward initiating a process of discovery.
During my master’s research, I interviewed Mennonite Brethren leaders across Canada about how they respond to complaints of emotional harm involving someone they supervise. Some leaders spoke from firsthand experience—real scenarios with real people. They described complexity: overlapping relationships, unclear behaviors, elusive issues, and the emotional weight of holding multiple perspectives. They felt stuck and unsure of the way forward.
What I found fascinating was that those who responded to hypothetical situations—leaders speaking at a distance, imagining what might happen—gave very decisive answers. When a complaint came forward, they felt confident they would know exactly what to do. They could outline a clear pathway: here is the problem, here is the verdict, here is the plan.
I do not fault these leaders. Many feel the pressure to have an answer. A problem comes to them, and they are expected to respond: guilty or not guilty, right or wrong, this is the plan. And most leaders want this clarity. Sitting in uncertainty is uncomfortable. Policies feel safe. They promise guidance, predictability, and a sense of control.
But the truth is that no policy can account for every scenario. And when we face a situation that does not fit neatly into one of our categories, what do we do? Instead of hoping our leaders always have the answer, I hope we can develop leaders with discernment. Even Artificial Intelligence can draft a policy in seconds. But discernment depends on the questions we ask, the context we carry, and how we apply Scripture and wisdom in the moment. p. 41
We do not need leaders with better answers. We need leaders with better questions and better processes. What if our instinct, when tension arises, was not to declare a solution but to initiate a process of discovery?
-
Who needs to be involved in this process?
-
How do we care for the individuals involved in our response?
-
How do we hope people are shaped through this process?
-
What is urgent? What needs a response right now? What can wait?
-
How does Scripture speak to this challenge we are currently facing?
-
If this text sheds light on this scenario, what does it mean for our context and how do we apply it faithfully?
-
What are we missing? What do we need to understand further?
-
What is our shared understanding of the problem?
Rather than generating answers rooted in certainty, what if we cultivated curiosity—questions that help us uncover what is real and what is needed? Scripture models this process beautifully.
Joshua 22. The Israelites send a priest and ten chiefs to ask questions. They do not storm in with accusations. Instead, they begin a dialogue. And in doing so, they discover something radically different than they assumed. The altar was not an act of rebellion; it was a witness to God’s faithfulness (v. 27): “On the contrary, it is to be a witness between us and you and the generations that follow . . . .” A process of discovery reshaped their understanding. Conversation replaced war. Curiosity replaced certainty.
Acts 15. Paul and Barnabas bring the issue to the elders, and instead of shutting down debate, the leaders engage it. They wrestle. They challenge assumptions. They revisit Scripture. They discern together: “The apostles and elders met to consider this question” (v. 6). They engage a shared interpretive process:
-
Peter appeals to experience: God purified their hearts by faith. Why would we add burdens God himself did not? (vv. 7-11).
-
James appeals to Scripture: The prophets speak to this very reality (vv. 13-18).
-
Wisdom emerges through the process, not before it (v. 28).
When we resist the urge to have the answer, we hold the tension long enough for wisdom to emerge through a process of discovery. When this happens we quite simply get better outcomes that address the root issues. Secondly, we bring people along for the process of discovery. Many people, p. 42 even if they disagree with the outcome, can submit to the decision if they feel their perspective was heard. Discipling people and caring for those involved is a key part of the process.
A shift from “seeing people as the problem” to understanding the problems people are experiencing
This final shift takes us into the heart of conflict—where it becomes personal. As we hold the tension and initiate a process of discovery, we are invited to shift from seeing people as the problem to understanding the problems people are experiencing. It happens all too often—we get stuck, we hit a stalemate, and we start labeling the person:
-
“They are angry.”
-
“They have changed.”
-
“They are being sensitive.”
When we do this, we confuse the issue. Making the person the problem gives us the illusion of resolution: if we can just get rid of the person, we will get rid of the problem. But most people do not set out to be the problem. And many times, they are the ones revealing a problem we need to see.
When we separate people from the problems they are experiencing, we can respond with compassion and accountability. We can name the issue without shaming the individual.
-
“They are angry” becomes “What are you angry about?”
-
“They have changed” becomes “What has caused you to change? What are you reacting to?”
-
“They are being sensitive” becomes “What makes this sensitive for you?”
This approach moves us toward understanding rather than judgment.
Why does making people the problem not work? Three reasons stand out:
-
It harms people: Scapegoating is deeply painful and can be traumatic.
-
It obscures the real issues: Unaddressed patterns simply resurface elsewhere.
-
It eliminates options: You cannot “fix” a person, but you can address patterns, behaviors, and impacts.
Separating the person from the issue creates clarity. It names something concrete, something we can discuss, address, and coach. In p. 43 Joshua 22, the leaders focus on the concern, not on attacking the tribes. In Acts 15, the debate centers on theology and practice, not on Jews versus Gentiles or on Paul and Barnabas being the problem.
How do we better understand the problem people are experiencing? Targeting an individual is another outcome of “trying to make it go away.” So again, our priority is holding the tension. Additionally, initiating a process helps us uncover the underlying issues. Finally, the simple practice of writing down the issues can help us differentiate them from the individual. What are their behaviors? What are the impacts? What are the patterns? Capturing these elements can keep us focused on the issues over and above the individual themselves.
This shift helps us become more agile. When you think about past or current conflicts you have been part of, and if you are thinking the person is the problem, it gives you very limited options—essentially, do they stay or go. Or do I stay or go? When we identify concrete problems and concerns it makes us agile, it gives us more options in our response to those clearly defined issues.
We also create space for accountability and redemption. We can unearth concerns, hold people accountable for those issues, and discern what needs to change. When people are not the problem, feedback becomes possible—there is room for forgiveness and growth. This is because people are not bad, though they sometimes do things that have negative impacts. Identifying the problems gives people a way out; they have a pathway to redeem themselves by addressing the issues.
Making this shift gives us options as leaders in how we respond, and it truly cares for people. When people see this approach, this also develops a healthy culture that builds trust. We treat people with dignity when we separate the concerns and issues from who they are as people.
Becoming Peacemakers
So, what does it look like to actually become peacemakers, people who seek the shalom of our local church? Peacemaking is not something abstract or distant. It begins with us—in how we show up, in what we choose to avoid or embrace, in whether we move toward issues or away from them. When we move toward the tensions among us—even awkwardly, even imperfectly—we strengthen our peacemaking muscles and pursue true shalom.
Now, I am not suggesting we all return to our communities and host formal “beef nights.” Even my family has retired those. But I am suggesting we lean into the tensions that exist between us. And to be clear, confrontation is not the answer to every conflict. But by holding the tension with p. 44 purpose, initiating a process of discovery, and naming the real issues, we are far better equipped to discern our next faithful steps.
So I leave you with two questions: Which shift do you feel most challenged by right now? And how might responding to conflict differently—by holding the tension, initiating discovery, and focusing on the real issues—create new opportunities for discipleship and growth in your community?
