Editor’s Note: This article is part two of a two-part series that helps us deal with division in our lives, relationships, and our world. You can read part one here.
In part one, we asked two searching questions from Colossians 3:12–17. First, have I forgotten whose I am? And second, am I modeling what I’m demanding from others? Those questions addressed our identity and our character — the starting points for honest self-assessment in the middle of conflict.
But Paul doesn’t stop there. The passage moves from the personal to the communal — from who we are and how we behave to the kind of culture we’re helping to create and the direction we’re facing. These final two movements press into territory that is harder to see and easier to avoid, which is exactly why we need them.
3. Am I Building Bridges or Burning Them Down?
Most divisions — in families, organizations, churches, friendships — are not primarily about the presenting issue. They are about a culture that has been forming, often for years, in which certain things became unsayable, certain people became untouchable, and certain patterns went unnamed. The issue that finally surfaces is usually the match, not the fuel.
When we’re in the middle of division, every conversation is either building a bridge or burning one down. Most of us don’t intend to burn bridges. But we do it anyway — because in the heat of the moment, fear takes over. Fear pushes people in two directions. Some go silent. They see something concerning but say nothing because speaking up feels too risky. Others move the opposite way — they speak, but they speak selfishly. They vent. They accuse. They try to win the argument rather than serve the relationship. Neither extreme builds anything. Silence lets the gap widen. Selfish speech sets the bridge on fire.
Colossians 3:14–16 gives us a different way forward. Paul describes three materials that build relational bridges sturdy enough to hold the weight of real conflict:
“Above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts… Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom.”
Sturdy bridges are motivated by love. Love is the material that holds the structure together. Without it, all the other garments Paul described — kindness, patience, humility — fall apart. Kindness without love becomes performance. Patience without love becomes avoidance. Love is what keeps a hurting community connected when everything else is pulling it apart. If your actions toward the other person are not motivated by genuine care for their good, you are not building a bridge — you are building a case.
Sturdy bridges are governed by the peace of Christ. Peace is what keeps the bridge steady when the weight gets heavy. The word “rule” here comes from the world of athletics — it describes an umpire making the call. In moments of tension, something will make the call in your heart. It might be anxiety. It might be anger. It might be the loudest voice in the room or the most compelling narrative circulating this week. But Paul says something else should be sitting in that chair: the peace of Christ. Ask yourself honestly — is the peace of Christ making the calls in your heart right now, or is something else running the show? When anxiety or anger is calling the shots, we don’t build bridges. We build walls.
Sturdy bridges are anchored in the Word of Christ. The Word is the foundation — without it, the whole structure collapses under pressure. And notice where Paul says the Word dwells. Not just in the pastor. Not just in the leaders. In the community. “Teaching and admonishing one another.” The health of any church, any family, any team has never depended on a single person. It depends on all of us letting the Word of Christ — not the word of the loudest person, the most hurt person, or the most powerful person — be the authority in the room. A bridge anchored in Scripture can bear weight that a bridge anchored in opinion never will.
The self-assessment question here is this: Am I building bridges or burning them down?
That question is more specific than it sounds. It means asking: Are my actions toward this person motivated by love — or by self-protection? Is the peace of Christ governing my emotions — or is anxiety running the show? Are my conversations anchored in what Scripture says — or in what I feel?
You can’t change the past. But you can decide what you’re building right now — in how you treat the people around you, how you talk about them when they’re not in the room, and whether you’re contributing to an atmosphere of fear or an atmosphere of grace. What you build in this season will determine what your relationships look like a year from now far more than any single argument or decision.
4. Am I Committed to Honoring God — or Is Getting My Way What Matters Most?
Conflict has a powerful way of pulling our eyes backward. We replay the conversation. We rehearse what was said, what should have been said, what we wish we had said. The mind becomes a courtroom, presenting evidence again and again to a jury that never adjourns.
But if we’re honest, the backward gaze isn’t just about truth and accountability. Often it’s about vindication. We want to be proven right. We want the other person to admit what they did. We want the outcome we decided was fair — and we want it on our timeline.
The backward-facing questions are not meaningless. Truth matters. Accountability matters. Who was harmed? What needs to be addressed? These are real and important questions, and they should not be avoided.
But at some point, every one of us faces a fork in the road: Am I going to pursue what honors God in this situation — or am I going to pursue the outcome that satisfies me? Those two things sometimes overlap. But not always. And the distance between them reveals what’s really driving us.
Paul closes this passage with a verse that reorients everything: “And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him” (Colossians 3:17).
Notice the scope of that verse. Whatever you do. Not just the easy conversations. Not just the moments when you feel generous. Whatever you do — including the hard conversation, the difficult decision, the moment when you don’t get the outcome you wanted — do it in the name of the Lord Jesus.
That is a reorienting standard. It means the driving question in every conflict is not “How do I get what I want?” but “What does it look like for Jesus to be honored in whatever happens next?” Those are two very different questions, and they produce two very different people.
Getting my way says: I’ll admit my mistake, if they do first.
Honoring God says: I’ll pursue what’s right regardless of what they do.
Getting my way says: This situation needs to be resolved on my terms.
Honoring God says: I’ll trust God with the outcome and focus on my faithfulness.
Getting my way says: I can’t move forward until justice looks exactly the way I pictured it.
Honoring God says: I’ll pursue justice and leave room for God to work in ways I didn’t plan.
And then Paul adds something that may feel surprising in the middle of conflict: gratitude. “Giving thanks to God the Father.” Gratitude may seem like a strange word when you’re hurting. But gratitude does something powerful to the human heart. A grateful person is a humble person. And a humble person is one who can receive correction, extend grace, and move forward without demanding that every grievance be fully resolved before progress is possible. Gratitude loosens the grip of bitterness and reminds us that God is still at work — even when the situation hasn’t resolved the way we hoped.
The final self-assessment question is this: Am I committed to honoring God moving forward — or is getting my way what matters most to me?
Here’s a simple test. Can you name three things you’re grateful for about the person or the community you’re in conflict with — right now, in this hard season? If you can, hold onto those. If you can’t, that’s not a failure — it’s information. It tells you something about where bitterness may have already taken root, and it gives you a place to start doing business with God.
Conclusion
In this two-part series, we’ve walked through four questions from Colossians 3:12–17 that help us honestly assess our own contribution to conflict and division:
- Have I forgotten whose I am?
- Am I modeling what I’m demanding from others?
- Am I building bridges or burning them down?
- Am I committed to honoring God — or is getting my way what matters most?
These questions are not easy to sit with. But they are the only ones that lead to the kind of change we actually control. We cannot make the other person repent. We cannot force a resolution. We cannot rewrite what happened. But we can look honestly at what we’re contributing — and we can ask God to change us from the inside out.
In over two decades of counseling, I’ve seen this again and again: the person who is willing to go first — who is willing to honestly assess their own heart before demanding change from everyone else — often becomes the person who changes the trajectory of the entire conflict. Not because they had the most power in the room, but because they had the most humility.
Divided relationships are not beyond repair. But they rarely heal on their own. They need at least one person who is willing to stop pointing across the room and start looking in the mirror. God can help you become that person — and sometimes a good counselor can help you see what you’ve been missing. Reach out if you’d like to talk.
