And so.

Let’s not downplay the importance of words, of dialogue, of argument.  The ancient Hebrews believed that it was through words that the world was created, through the breath of the Spirit that the soil—including you and me—came to be.

Words are vital, life-giving, soul transforming agents of change in our lives and our world.  I am grateful for the many people who not only have taken the time to consider their words, but who also have taken the time to write them down, submit them for consideration, and for criticism.

They have tested and transformed by life.

Words matter.  Dialogue matters.  Conflict…matters.

Peter Rollins reminds us that war is the failure of conflict.  He’s got it.  We need to learn to dialogue and disagree and argue well.  Shutting up and running to our own small tents and lobbing unhelpful words or hand grenades helps no one.

But, having said all of that, there can be too many words.  Too much argument.  An overabundance of back and forth.

This is true to the extent that it begins to prevent us from acting, helping, serving, loving.

When we find ourselves in conflict with others, find that the reply line is taking up more than one screen shot, find that we are only escalating the toxins in the room, it may be time to shut our face holes and go embody what we keep yammering on about.

When I get into it with somebody over our God-given mandate to care for His creation, at some point I find I need to stop and go care for God’s creation, whether the other comes along or not.

When I get into it with somebody over how we should treat those that we don’t understand or who have been silenced or marginalized for generations, at some point I find I need to stop and go treat them well myself.

When I get into it with somebody over whether Jesus’ command to love our enemy means we probably shouldn’t be arming ourselves against them and shooting them, at some point I need to stop and ask if that is really how low of a bar I should have when it comes to loving them.

You know, just not shooting them.

Nothing clears my spirit and my soil more than setting aside who agrees or disagrees with me on this or that issue and simply going out and loving the Giver by loving those given.

And this doesn’t mean the conversations have to stop, or the disagreements need to be ignored, or that the conflicts must be avoided.

It is that we have more to say than what we can say.

“The best critique of something that is wrong is the practice of something better,” Shane Claiborne reminds us.

Because there is a truth-telling and light-shining to our decision to stop talking and start doing.

We all understand this.  We tend to become more aware of what and how we are eating around those that eat healthier than we do.  There is something compelling about a friend who chooses to call a rules violation on themselves during a competitive game of chess or golf or whatever.

“Oops.  I took my hand off there.” 

“Uh, I think I hit that twice…”

These people who are more concerned with how they are living—before they concern themselves with how we are—happen to be the very people that most impact what we do and who we are becoming.

Of course, there are those who cringe when we eat a Big Mac, or who roll their eyes when they think we have stretched a rule.  I’m not talking about them.

Let’s be the former without feeling the need to be the latter.

In the midst of our disagreements and anger and frustrations and flabbergast-ments (because that should be a word), let us be more compelling than toe-steppers, post-trollers, argument-escalators, demonizers.

Let’s do conflict well.

By being prophets of light.

Prophets of lightness.

Prophets of beauty.

Prophets of hope.

Let us allow our lives lived to be what continues the conversation in the midst of our conflicts.