In a congregational meeting, two young male professionals made a presentation to update the sanctuary sound system. Their pitch was well delivered. As they began fielding questions, a retired gentleman, a former engineer, challenged one of the presenter's use of a technical term. I don't remember the exact phrasing that sparked the fireworks, but the atmosphere in our fellowship hall, which had held a little tension because the sound system upgrade involved a significant amount of money, suddenly intensified.

The young presenter and this former engineer began to quarrel about who was right, as if they were the only two in the room. I began to feel embarrassed for the older gentleman, since his comment and persistence provoked and sustained the interchange. The discussion ended awkwardly, the congregation voting to upgrade the sound system, and the meeting came to a close. Afterwards, I saw the elderly gentleman amble toward where the presenters sat. Later I heard from others who overheard that conversation: the former engineer apologized for his conduct and asked one of the young professionals out for breakfast to discuss the sound-system project.

At its best, the local church functions as an arena in which conflict and hurts among participants who choose to stay can open up possibilities for spiritual progress.