Why Peacemaking?

It feels like the whole world has turned into a comment section. You know what I mean. You post a picture of your family, a vacation shot, a recipe, or a thought you think is harmless—and then someone comments. Someone disagrees. Someone posts a snide remark. And before long, the comment section has exploded.

We live in a time when conflict is entertainment. Outrage is a currency. Social media platforms don’t just allow for argument—they reward it. The more heated, the more clicks. The sharper the insult, the bigger the reach.

And it’s not just “out there” in politics or culture wars. It’s in our own lives. Families divided over a Facebook post. Long friendships fractured over who voted for who. Arguments in the church over worship styles, leadership decisions, even carpet colors.

Here’s the truth: we don’t know how to deal with conflict anymore. Some of us avoid it at all costs—we pretend everything is fine while resentment builds under the surface. Others of us jump right into the fire—we speak before we think, we wound before we listen. Some of us go silent; others go nuclear.

And in the middle of all that, Jesus speaks a single sentence that cuts through the noise:

Matthew 5:9 NRSV

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

Think about that. Jesus doesn’t say, “Blessed are the peace-lovers.” Everyone loves peace in theory. Everyone wants the war to end, the fighting to stop, the tension to go away. But Jesus says, “Blessed are the peacemakers.”

That word—makers—is active. It means doing something. It means stepping into the conflict, not running from it. It means building bridges where walls have been erected. It means seeking reconciliation where hurt has broken trust.

The problem is, we live in a culture that doesn’t reward peacemaking. We reward victory. We reward the last word. We reward the snappy comeback, the viral takedown. But Jesus is saying: The blessed ones—the ones who truly live as God’s family—are those who make peace.

And that should hit us, because we live in a world that desperately needs it.

Let’s look again at Matthew 5:9:

Matthew 5:9 NRSV

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

This verse comes from the Beatitudes, the opening of the Sermon on the Mount. Each Beatitude turns the world upside down. The poor in spirit? Blessed. The mourners? Blessed. The meek? Blessed.

And now—peacemakers. Jesus is not talking about keeping the peace through avoidance. He’s not saying, “Blessed are those who never rock the boat.” He’s saying, “Blessed are those who step into conflict with the heart of God, and through humility and love bring reconciliation.”

Why? Because when you do that, you bear the family resemblance. You look like your Father. You live like your Savior. You walk in the Spirit of peace.

God as the Ultimate Peacemaker

This is who God is. The story of Scripture is the story of God making peace with a broken world. Humanity turned away from God, and the result was conflict—between Cain and Abel, between nations, between neighbors. Brokenness everywhere.

And what does God do? He sends Jesus. Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 5:19

2 Corinthians 5:19 NRSV

that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us.

God didn’t sit back and say, “You got yourself into this mess—figure it out.” No—God stepped into the mess. God crossed the divide. God made peace through the cross.

That means peacemaking is not just a good idea. It’s the heart of the gospel.

John Wesley one said, “Peacemakers endeavor to calm the stormy spirits of men, to quiet their turbulent passions, to soften the minds of contending parties, and if possible, reconcile them to each other. And in this they imitate their Father which is in heaven.”

For Wesley, peacemaking was an expression of holiness. Holiness wasn’t just personal piety—it was social. It was about how you live with others. To make peace was to put the love of God into action.

Simply put: Holiness without love is harsh. Love without holiness is weak. Peacemaking is where holiness and love meet.

That’s the call of Jesus. That’s the family resemblance that we are seeking to display in the world as followers of Jesus

Let’s go back to that comment section. It’s easy to read a post that infuriates you and fire off a response. It’s easy to let anger rise and type words you’d never say in person. It’s easy to retreat into your echo chamber and never engage with anyone who disagrees.

But what if instead, we chose the harder way? What if, instead of trying to “win” an argument with people, we tried to understand? What if, instead of blasting someone in public, we reached out privately to talk? What if, instead of making assumptions about someone’s character, we asked questions about their story?

That’s what Jesus is talking about. That’s what peacemaking looks like in a digital age.

And it’s not just online. It’s at the dinner table. It’s in the board meeting. It’s in the church committee. It’s in your marriage. It’s in your friendships.

Thankfully, Jesus doesn’t just say what—he gives us the how. Later in Matthew 18:15–17, he lays out a framework for dealing with conflict:

Matthew 18:15–17 NRSV

“If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one. But if you are not listened to, take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses. If the member refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.

If someone sins against you, go to them directly. Don’t gossip. Don’t subtweet. Don’t rally your side.

If that doesn’t work, bring one or two others along—not to gang up, but to help.

If that doesn’t work, involve the community.

And always, always, the goal is reconciliation.

This is radically different from how the world handles conflict. The world aims to shame, silence, or destroy the other. Jesus aims to reconcile.

Let me give you a story. Some of you may have read The Anatomy of Peace. It’s written as a narrative, but it draws on the real work of reconciliation happening in the Middle East.

In one of the stories, an Israeli father who lost his son in a bombing sits in the same room as a Palestinian father whose family had suffered at the hands of the Israeli military. If ever there were two people who should have been enemies, it was them. Both had wounds, both had loss, both had every reason to hate the other.

But instead of hardening, instead of doubling down, they chose to listen. They chose to share their grief. And slowly, they discovered that beneath the labels of “Israeli” and “Palestinian,” beneath the politics and history, they were both fathers. Fathers who knew the searing pain of burying a child.

That became their common ground. And on that ground, peace began to grow.

They didn’t erase the differences. They didn’t pretend everything was fine. But they found a way to see one another not as enemies, but as people. They made a way toward peace where no way seemed possible.

Now—if peace can be made there, between enemies with decades of history, then surely peace can be made here, in our families, in our friendships, even in our comment sections.

So what does this mean for us?

First, it means we stop adding fuel to the fire. When the world around us is tearing itself apart, we resist the temptation to throw another log on the flames. We don’t share every angry article. We don’t post every impulsive thought. We pause. We pray.

Second, it means we take the risk of reconciliation. That friend you haven’t spoken to in months because of an argument? Reach out. That family member you avoid at gatherings because of political differences? Sit down with them. That person in church you’ve gossiped about? Go to them.

Third, it means we embody the gospel in how we live. When people look at us, they should see the family resemblance. They should see children of God. They should say, “I may not agree with everything they believe, but I know they’re a person of peace.”

Let’s be honest: this isn’t easy. Peacemaking is costly. It costs us our pride. It costs us the satisfaction of winning. It costs us the ability to always be right.

But isn’t that the way of Jesus? He laid down his rights. He bore our sins. He gave up his life to make peace.

If you want to follow Jesus, you don’t get to carry a sword of outrage in one hand and the cross in the other. You have to lay the sword down.

Imagine if we got this right. Imagine if the church became known not for adding to the culture wars, but for making peace. Imagine if the loudest thing people heard from us wasn’t condemnation, but reconciliation.

Wesley dreamed of a church like that. A people so full of God’s love that it spilled out into every relationship, every conflict, every community. That’s what it means to be Methodist—people who practice holiness of heart and life, people who make peace because we bear the image of the ultimate Peacemaker.

So here’s the invitation: This week, don’t just be a peace-lover. Be a peacemaker.

On social media, be the voice of calm instead of the voice of chaos.

In your family, take the first step toward forgiveness.

In your workplace, be the one who refuses to gossip and instead works toward understanding.

In your church, live in such a way that people see the resemblance—you look like your Father.

Jesus says: Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

So go. Bear the family resemblance. Make peace where others make war. Because that’s what children of God do.

Amen.