Building Bridges, Not Walls

“Peace is not the absence of conflict but the presence of creative love.” — Martin Luther King Jr.

Several years ago, I led a town hall meeting at the church where I was serving at the time, which brought together members with vastly different notions about a particularly thorny issue we needed to resolve.  

I’ll admit, I went in skeptical. The air was thick with defensiveness. People spoke past one another, waiting for their turn to be heard rather than to understand.  Some harsh things were said, which wounded some, and the responses were sharp and biting.  

But then, a dear, kind woman — soft-spoken, early-70s — stood up. “I’ve lived long enough to see many of my friends stop talking to each other,” she said. “But bridges don’t build themselves. Somebody has to take the first step.”

The room fell quiet. Slowly, one conversation at a time, something shifted. People started asking questions instead of making accusations. The tension gave way to empathy. It wasn’t perfect, but it was holy.

In the end, we decided a capital campaign to purchase a $1.2 million pipe organ wasn't the best use of our congregation's limited resources.  

I buried the lede on that one a bit. Still, the point is that I could have just as easily been discussing social, political, or theological issues, which seem to be the most relevant and divisive topics, not only in churches but in our society as a whole.  

We haven't been very good at bridge-building lately.  Something needs to change.  

Paul’s letter to the Ephesians calls Christ “our peace,” the One who “has broken down the dividing wall of hostility.” In a world of walls — literal and figurative — those words sound almost impossible. Yet reconciliation is the heartbeat of the gospel. Jesus didn’t come just to reconcile us to God; He came to reconcile us to each other.

We build walls because they make us feel safe. But walls also isolate. Bridges, by contrast, require risk — the risk of stepping toward someone we don’t understand, the risk of admitting we might be wrong, the risk of loving before agreement. 

Yet that’s exactly what Jesus did. On the cross, He stretched His arms between heaven and earth, between guilt and grace, between enemies and friends — becoming the bridge Himself.

The ministry of reconciliation begins wherever we choose humility over hostility. Every time we listen across a difference, forgive an offense, or reach toward someone we once avoided, we participate in Christ’s peacemaking work.

In an age of division, bridge builders are prophets. They remind the world that love still crosses lines.

Prayer

God of peace,
tear down the walls that fear and pride have built within me.
Give me courage to take the first step toward reconciliation.
Help me see every person as Your image,
every difference as an opportunity for grace.
Make my life a bridge where Your love can pass freely
from heart to heart.
Amen.

Reflection Questions

1. What “walls” have you noticed — in your relationships, community, or church — that need bridging?

2. How might you take a small but brave first step toward reconciliation this week?

3. When has someone else built a bridge toward you, and how did that change your heart?