Bring Others Along

I once heard about two neighbors whose feud started with something as small as a tree branch.

One man’s oak tree leaned over the property line and dropped leaves into the other man’s swimming pool. At first, it was just a Saturday annoyance. Skim the leaves, mutter under your breath, get on with the day. But after a while, it wore on him. Every week the same mess, every week the same frustration.

Instead of knocking on the neighbor’s door with a simple, “Hey, could we talk about the tree?” he wrote a note — short, sharp, not-so-friendly. The oak tree owner didn’t appreciate that. So he called a lawyer.

Pretty soon, this wasn’t about leaves in a pool anymore. This was about pride. It was about who would win. They built fences. They trimmed branches at night. They started parking their cars just a little too close to each other’s driveways. And before long, the whole neighborhood was involved — choosing sides, whispering, rolling their eyes every time they drove past.

What started small turned into years of bitterness.

And we’ve seen it too, haven’t we? Sometimes in our workplaces, where a sharp email turns into a cold war. Sometimes in families, where one disagreement turns into years of silence. Sometimes in churches, where the smallest things — colors of carpet, styles of music, who got thanked at the potluck — turn into divisions that wound the body of Christ.

Conflict always starts small. The problem isn’t the spark. The problem is that we don’t handle it the way Jesus teaches us to.

That’s why we’re in this series called Peacemakers. Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount: “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”

Last week, we talked about the first step in Jesus’ process: go one-on-one. Face to face. Humble, direct, seeking reconciliation.

But what happens when that doesn’t work? What happens when you’ve tried, but they won’t listen?

That’s where Jesus gives us the second step: bringing others along.

Matthew 18:15–16 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.

Jesus is reaching back to a well-known principle from the Old Testament. In Deuteronomy 19:15, God gave Israel this instruction: “A matter must be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses.” No one was to be condemned on the word of a single person. Why? Because humans are complicated. We mishear, we misjudge, we misremember. Sometimes we exaggerate. Sometimes we’re blind to our own faults.

So “two or three witnesses” was never about ganging up. It was about fairness. It was about truth. It was about making sure justice was done and relationships weren’t broken by hearsay.

And Jesus brings that principle right into the heart of church life. He knows how quickly broken conversations can spiral. He knows how stubborn we can be when we’re hurt. So he gives us a process designed not to punish, but to reconcile.

Notice: the goal isn’t “winning.” The goal is “regaining your brother or sister.”

If any church needed this teaching, it was Corinth.

Corinth was a city that prided itself on wealth, influence, and spectacle. Imagine Las Vegas, Wall Street, and a Bravo reality show rolled into one. Ships came in from every corner of the empire. Merchants flaunted their success. Philosophers gathered in the public square to show off their wisdom. Every meal, every gathering, was about status — who was more important, who was more powerful.

And the church? Instead of standing out, it started looking just like the city.

Some said, “I follow Paul.”

Others, “I follow Apollos.”

Others, “I follow Cephas.”

And a few spiritual ones said, “Well, I follow Christ.”

It was like “Team Paul vs. Team Apollos vs. Team Cephas.” Alliances, rivalries, drama — the first-century equivalent of a “Real Housewives” reunion episode. And Paul, bless his heart, had to step in and play mediator.

But it didn’t stop there. Some believers were dragging each other into court. Imagine putting up a billboard that says, “Come to First UMC Fort Pierce, where we sue each other for fun.” Worship gatherings turned into competitions over who had the flashiest spiritual gift. And the Lord’s Supper — the meal meant to unite them — became a feast where the rich stuffed themselves and the poor went hungry.

And then, of course, there was the scandal in chapter 5:

1 Corinthians 5:1–7 NRSV

It is actually reported that there is sexual immorality among you, and of a kind that is not found even among pagans; for a man is living with his father’s wife. And you are arrogant! Should you not rather have mourned, so that he who has done this would have been removed from among you? For though absent in body, I am present in spirit; and as if present I have already pronounced judgment in the name of the Lord Jesus on the man who has done such a thing. When you are assembled, and my spirit is present with the power of our Lord Jesus, you are to hand this man over to Satan for the destruction of the flesh, so that his spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord. Your boasting is not a good thing. Do you not know that a little yeast leavens the whole batch of dough? Clean out the old yeast so that you may be a new batch, as you really are unleavened. For our paschal lamb, Christ, has been sacrificed.

A man in the church sleeping with his father’s wife. And instead of dealing with it, the church was bragging about how “tolerant” they were.

Paul must’ve felt like he was pastoring a reality show. But he doesn’t throw up his hands. He doesn’t say, “Forget it.” He reminds them of the way of Jesus.

When a one-on-one conversation isn’t enough, the community must step in. Not to condemn. Not to destroy. But to restore.

And later, in 2 Corinthians, when the man repents, Paul says: “Forgive him, comfort him, reaffirm your love.” In other words, the goal wasn’t exile. The goal was healing.

Check this out:

2 Corinthians 2:1–10 NRSV

So I made up my mind not to make you another painful visit. For if I cause you pain, who is there to make me glad but the one whom I have pained? And I wrote as I did, so that when I came, I might not suffer pain from those who should have made me rejoice; for I am confident about all of you, that my joy would be the joy of all of you. For I wrote you out of much distress and anguish of heart and with many tears, not to cause you pain, but to let you know the abundant love that I have for you. But if anyone has caused pain, he has caused it not to me, but to some extent—not to exaggerate it—to all of you. This punishment by the majority is enough for such a person; so now instead you should forgive and console him, so that he may not be overwhelmed by excessive sorrow. So I urge you to reaffirm your love for him. I wrote for this reason: to test you and to know whether you are obedient in everything. Anyone whom you forgive, I also forgive. What I have forgiven, if I have forgiven anything, has been for your sake in the presence of Christ.

So when Jesus says, “bring one or two others,” who should they be?

Not gossip partners. That just escalates the conflict.

Not power players. They’ll just bulldoze.

But wise, trusted disciples. People who love Jesus more than they love being right. People who love peace more than they love power. People who can sit in the tension without taking sides and help both parties actually listen.

Let’s be honest: most of us would rather avoid conflict altogether. Or, if we’re bold enough to confront it, we want to win. But Jesus calls us to something different.

This is why John Wesley built the Methodist movement on small groups — classes, bands, societies. He knew that if Christians were going to grow, they had to be in community where people would “watch over one another in love.” Where people could pray together, confess their faults, and speak hard truths gently.

And this is what holiness looks like. Holiness isn’t about being squeaky clean or rule-following. Holiness shows up in how we love each other, especially when we disagree. True holiness is relational. It refuses to walk away when things get hard. It invites others in — not to shame, but to restore.

Imagine what this looks like in real life.

A married couple hits an impasse. They’ve talked in circles, but they can’t break through. Instead of withdrawing, they invite a wise Christian couple to sit with them, pray with them, and help them listen again.

Two church members clash over ministry direction. Instead of splitting into factions, they invite a trusted leader to help them talk it out.

A family feud drags on for years. But finally, one sibling invites another along who loves both sides — not to take sides, but to help heal the fracture.

This is what Jesus is talking about.

Back to those feuding neighbors.

After years of bitterness, a mutual friend finally stepped in. She wasn’t a lawyer. She wasn’t there to choose sides. She just invited them both to her backyard barbecue.

It was awkward at first. No one made eye contact. But over burgers and iced tea, conversation started. Slowly, they realized they didn’t want to live at war anymore. The oak tree was still there. The pool was still there. But now, there was peace.

What changed? One person had the courage to step in — not to fuel the drama, but to bring them together.

That’s what Jesus envisions. That’s what Paul longed for in Corinth. That’s what Wesley built into the Methodist way of life.

When one-on-one doesn’t work, Jesus says: don’t give up. Don’t walk away. Don’t blow it up. Bring others along. Bring wisdom, not drama. Bring voices that will help restore peace.

Because this is exactly what God did for us. When we were estranged from him, he didn’t abandon us or destroy us. He sent Jesus to stand in the middle, to bear the cost, to make peace, to bring us home.

That’s the gospel. And when we live like this, we don’t just avoid conflict. We embody Christ.

That’s what makes us peacemakers. That’s what makes us children of God.