 English translation of a talk I delivered for a 'Prayers for Peace' meeting in Germany this week: Martin Luther King is famous for having ‘a dream’ – a vision from God of a bright new reality that he was willing to live and die for. For him, peace was far more than the absence of conflict. After all, people, communities and even nations can co-exist alongside one-another for a time, even if there are tensions, grievances or injustices in and between them.* We see an example in history of ‘Pax Romana’ – a peace of sorts that the Roman Empire established and maintained by the overwhelming force of the military, rather than through building positive relationships between neighbouring peoples and societies. It was a way of holding an empire together by active coercion and brutal suppression of all dissent. The Roman historian, Tacitus, commented that, ‘They (the Romans) make a desert and call it peace.’ This was the world into which Jesus Christ was born. It helps us understand the dilemma for Pilate when some Jewish leaders said Jesus claimed to be King of the Jews. If the accusation were true, it could be a threat to ‘Pax Romana’. Pilate was forced to act. Martin Luther King calls this ‘negative peace’. It’s often better than open violence or war, yet because the underlying issues are not addressed or resolved, it’s likely to be a fragile state that could collapse at any time. Martin Luther King advocated for a ‘positive peace’, characterised by an active reaching towards the ‘other’ with love, forgiveness and hope. This is the peace we see modelled by Jesus Christ who reaches out actively towards us. He doesn’t ignore the problems and challenges but takes positive initiative to resolve them. This is what he calls us to do too. It’s a peace that reflects the Hebrew idea of ‘Shalom’ (שָׁלוֹם) – a holistic peace that includes restoration, safety, wholeness, harmony and wellbeing. As we look across the world today and see increasing tensions, conflicts and wars, let’s pray for a positive peace that is so much more than an absence of violence. Let’s pray especially for those who are so blinded by hate, hurt or self-interest that they can’t even imagine a different way or future. Let’s pray – with God’s help – for love, forgiveness and hope. *(e.g. Treaty of Versailles (1919); Treaty of Trianon (1920); Korean Armistice Agreement (1953); Israel-Lebanon May 17 Agreement (1983); Dayton Accord – Bosnia and Herzegovina (1995); Northern Ireland 'Peace without Reconciliation' (1998-present); Post-Civil War Libya (2011–present); India-Pakistan Ceasefire Agreement (2003/2021); Gaza Peace Plan (2025))
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 English translation of a short talk I delivered at a Prayers for Peace meeting in Germany this week: What a week. Peter Hegseth, the US Minister of War, declared brazenly that “We negotiate with bombs”, then prayed at the Pentagon for “overwhelming violence of action against those who deserve no mercy” – “in the name of Jesus Christ.” I’m not sure which version of the Bible he is reading but something very seriously seems to have been lost or omitted in translation. Some Christian friends, Ian and Samantha, used to drive around in the UK in a VW Campervan with a sticker emblazoned across the back window that asked: “Who would Jesus bomb?” It was a satirical question yet begged the more thoughtful response: “Nobody.” Violence and bombing – in Jesus’ name – is a cynical political distortion and a total contradiction in terms. So, to the real Jesus now. (The one we see portrayed here in the crucifix at the front of this church). This is the Jesus who sacrificed his own life…listen carefully to this…for whom the writer Paul describes in the Bible as “God’s enemies”. We can imagine Hegseth squirming squeamishly at this news: “No! This is all wrong!” Yet Jesus calls us, as disciples, to follow his example. Jesus spoke very directly about this: “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you." It is (paraphrased) in the Lord’s prayer too: “Forgive us when we behave like an enemy, in the same way we forgive others who behave like enemies towards us.” Paul reiterates this ethic when he says: “Do not repay evil for evil.” I find this really challenging. It recognises there are others we may rightly regard as enemies, and who will regard us as enemies too. The Bible doesn’t shy away from that. Yet it calls us beyond forgiveness – to love. Does that mean to love Putin? To love the Islamist regime in Iran? (To love the warmongering Hegseth too?). It seems to push hard against all sense of justice. Difficult as it is to say this, I believe Jesus would answer with an unequivocal “Yes.” Love is God’s antidote to hate and the only true means of hope. Whoever we regard to be on “the other side”, on “the wrong side” – we are called to pray for them. Forgiveness and love hold out open hands and open hearts, even when it feels humanly impossible to do so. May God help us do it.  ‘Our deeds determine us, as much as we determine our deeds.’ (George Eliot) Mike is a role model of vision, compassion and integrity. I’ve rarely met anyone like him. In fact, he’s one of the most amazing leaders, line-managers, I’ve ever had the privilege of working with. It was all the more heartbreaking, therefore, to see him treated disrespectfully by an executive team and dismissed (in my view) unjustifiably from post. This was some years ago now yet I still feel a wince of pain whenever I remember it. At the time, I asked Mike how he managed to handle himself so honourably in the face of such harsh opposition. He replied simply that he had been reading the account of Joseph in the Bible and had concluded that, ‘They can take your job, they can take your income, but they can never take your integrity. That’s only yours to give. Remember, Nick – whatever happens in life, guard your integrity.’ Wow. Such courage under fire. The day of Mike’s leaving arrived and people crowded into the staff room to say goodbye to this man that so many had held in high esteem. The executive team stood at the side with their backs to the wall, looking tense and nervous. What might Mike say? Could it kick off a riot? Mike looked around the room, smiled gently and said, ‘The executive team are ordinary people who carry extraordinary responsibilities. Pray for them.’ It was absolutely astonishing. People looked at each other quizzically around the room, and the executives breathed a (somewhat surprised) sigh of relief. Mike said those words with such incredible empathy and kindness. Not a hint of resentment or revenge. Mike’s wife had joined him for the leaving do and they closed by standing in the centre of the room together, holding hands, and sang a gospel song about trusting in Jesus.  ‘Father, forgive them because they don’t know what they’re doing.’ (Jesus Christ) I spent some days last week on a retreat at a Franciscan friary in the bitterly-cold North East of England. It’s something I choose to do each New Year these days – a retreat, that is, not to half freeze to death in a stone-built monastery. It’s a way of transitioning from the past year to the new, a spiritual defragmentation or reset of sorts, with a renewed and refreshed focus on God. The biggest challenge each time is to get over myself, to somehow disentangle myself enough from the fog of my own mental and emotional hopes, fears and preoccupations to see...Jesus. A recurring theme that emerged for me during my times of prayer and reflection was power. I read two starkly-contrasting accounts of people at Auschwitz during the Nazi era: the brutal guard Irma Grese who used her structural power to commit the most unspeakable acts of violence against prisoners, vs the self-sacrificing Franciscan friar Maximillian Kolbe who used his personal power to die in the place of another prisoner. Both were ordinary human beings. A critical, defining difference in that moment, in that context, was how each abused or used their power. I sat now in the candle-lit chapel, gazing at a harrowing figure of Jesus Christ, represented here as apparently-powerless, cruelly-beaten and tortured on a cross, straining upwards to glimpse his heavenly Father. It struck me how the world has become dominated (again) by power figures and ideologies, finding their voice through polarising politicians and political religions, and how so many people are flocking to support them. It’s symptomatic of widespread feelings of powerlessness and a desire to increase our own power via their power. Grese vs Kolbe? Father, forgive us.  ‘Conflict is inevitable, but combat is optional.’ (Max Lucado) Dealing with unresolved conflict when the other party is uninterested in reaching a resolution can be incredibly painful and frustrating. Occupational psychologist Michael West refers to it the greatest source of stress at work. The same can be true in our personal lives too. If you find yourself in that situation, here are some grounded and constructive steps you can take: 1. Accept what you can’t control The first and hardest step is often recognising that you cannot force someone to resolve a conflict if they’re unwilling. This sometimes means letting go of an ideal that all conflicts can be resolved. Acceptance doesn't mean you're okay with it; it just means you’re no longer fighting reality. The other party may come around in the future and they may not. That’s their call. 2. Reflect and own your part Without over-assuming blame, honestly examine your role in the conflict, for example: Is there anything you need to make peace with yourself over? Would you do anything differently now if you could? Occupational psychologist Richard Marshall puts it this way: it’s about you – but it’s not only about you. This isn't about shame or guilt. It’s about clarity, learning and growth. 3. Set boundaries If the conflict is ongoing (e.g. in family or work settings), create your own boundaries to protect your emotional energy and mental and physical health. This isn’t about avoidance. It’s about safeguarding your wellbeing. It may mean limiting contact with the other party as far as is possible; not discussing certain topics; and not expecting emotional reciprocity from them. 4. Express yourself (even if privately) If the other person won’t hear you out, pray and write a letter or email that you don’t send. Say everything you wish you could – totally uncensored. This can be a powerful way to externalise, process and release unresolved emotions and is much healthier than bottling everything up, like a smouldering volcano waiting to erupt. Catharsis of feeling can enable clarity of thought. 5. Seek closure without their participation Closure doesn’t require mutual agreement. You can, for instance, ritualise a goodbye (e.g. burn a letter, enact something symbolic to forgive yourself and-or the other party); reframe the conflict as a chapter, not your whole story; talk to God (the Psalms in the Bible are a great illustration of this approach), a coach, therapist or trusted person to help you process it. 6. Reclaim your power Letting go isn’t passive. It’s a courageous act of reclaiming your agency. Allowing another person’s behaviour to control our own is both passive and draining. Ask yourself: what does holding onto this conflict cost me? What would I gain if I released my grip on needing resolution? Act according to your own beliefs and values – and leave their behaviour to them. 7. Practice compassion (not co-dependence) Try to understand why the other person might avoid resolution with you, for example through fear, shame, pride or immaturity. This doesn’t excuse their behaviour, but it can help to free you from bitterness. (Co-dependence is an unhealthy sacrifice of your own needs, doing whatever the other party wants, to make them like you or keep the peace). Compassion helps you heal.  ‘The international arms trade is in direct opposition to efforts to protect and pursue the health of our world and its inhabitants.’ (MedAct) When Jesus Christ was born, if he had been given the projected world armaments spend for this year alone – I have to sit down as I write this: he could have spent US$ 2,708,578 every… single… day... from then until now. And, whilst on the topic of Jesus, a good friend has a satirical sticker across the rear windscreen of her campervan that reads, ‘Who would Jesus bomb?’ The simple answer is, ‘Nobody’. He was far too concerned with bringing good news to the poor, vulnerable and oppressed. Bottom line: weapons didn’t feature on his bottom line. Yet here today we see world leaders striding confidently onto stages, adorned with flags and symbols, making elegant speeches and pointing accusing fingers at one another across starkly-divided world maps. Everyone is firmly committed to the, ‘I’m OK, You’re Not OK’ creed and absolutely convinced by the rightness of their own cause. The platform rhetoric is powerful, existential, and ramps up the ante. It’s a dangerous zero-sum, do-or-die game in which we could all – quite literally – obliterate the world in a quest to, allegedly, save the world. Meanwhile, I see children in the Philippines this week who live in dire poverty, sleeping in rags on hard ground. There are countless millions across the world living like this, with barely enough to survive let alone thrive. Scraps of food and no access to safe water, sanitation, healthcare or education. US$ 2,708,578. So, Jesus again – ‘Reach out to your enemies.’ We could try this: ‘We’ve all made a real mess of this. We’re partly to blame and we’re sorry for the part we played in how we got here. We want to work with you to co-create a very different future.' Everything is at stake. What do you really believe? It’s sometimes hard to know. We can believe something absolutely, with real passion and conviction, and yet act completely differently. The really weird thing is that we can convince ourselves that we’re living consistently with what we believe and yet the behavioural evidence, the decisions we take, the time and energy and resources we spend on people and things, can tell a very different story. Our human ability to deceive ourselves is quite remarkable.
Against this backdrop, words like integrity, genuineness, authenticity and congruence spring to mind as a stark contrast, posing a powerful and deep challenge to who we are and how we conduct ourselves in the world. We tend to think of these words as inner qualities, personal attributes, the idea of someone walking their personal talk whether anyone notices it or not. Yet they are often formed, outworked and sustained in the context of complex situations and relationships. In this sense, we could consider the integrity phenomenon as having social and cultural as well as personal dimensions. It’s about the individual but it’s not only about the individual. So we can ask: Who best models integrity for us? If we live seek to live with integrity in all aspects of our lives, what impact and influence does that have on those around us? What cultural beliefs and values nurture and support it? What social conditions provoke and inspire it, often against all the odds? What does this mean for leaders, OD and coaches? Here are some ideas: 1. Clarify our beliefs and values: what matters most to us? 2. Invite people to support and challenge us when we risk dissonance, self-deception or slip up on route. 3. Model, inspire, support and affirm integrity in behaviour, relationships, decision-making and culture. 4. Support and challenge, not collude, when working with clients. 5. Love, honour –and forgive – when we and others get it wrong. It’s Christmas Day and I could have better used the title Christmas mess-edge for this short piece. The story of Jesus Christ isn’t just a sweet and sentimental account of a baby boy born in Bethlehem 2000+ years ago. If it’s true, it’s about God entering the very real messiness of our lives and world and offering the potential to transform them into something completely new. Something beyond our wildest dreams, hopes or expectations. Something that stretches and transcends the boundaries of all human existence and experience.
I’ve known something about this notion of stretching boundaries over this past year, about extending the edges of my own experience. I bought a new bike in the spring, challenged myself to cycle over 1000 miles in 6 months and over 50 miles in a single ride. I had never done anything like that before and yet I did it. I also challenged myself to swim 1 mile 3 times in the same week. And I did it. It felt like I had crossed over an important physical and psychological line, achieving things that had previously felt impossible for me. I wrote and had published my first article with the British Association for Counselling and Psychology (BACP). I’d written lots of articles for different publications before but this felt like the next step up in a professional field that sits close to my heart. The editor of Coaching Today invited me to write on spirituality and I jumped at the chance. To top it off, I did my first ever series of radio interviews on spirituality too. It was a great opportunity and a novel experience so sit in a recording studio and to share my beliefs openly on air. And if that was the end of the story, there would be no need for a Jesus, at least for me. But it’s far from the end. I’ve struggled and failed on so many fronts. Sometimes, I haven’t even struggled when I have known I should. I’ve known deeply and personally what Francis Spufford aptly calls the universal ‘human propensity to f* things up’ (Unapologetic, 2013). At times, I’ve failed in relationships, made mistakes at work, fallen short of my own standards, spoken when I should have kept quiet and kept quiet when I should have spoken. What’s more, one of my closest friends has fought courageously with terminal illness. I’ve felt hopeful and helpless, trying to offer support where I could yet knowing I can’t make it OK. I’ve yearned to take the anxiety away but known that I can’t. I’ve watched Syria in the news, the damage that human beings are able to inflict on each others’ lives, on whole countries and regions. I’ve felt impotent and confused. Not all the time, but enough to know that redeeming the world is something I can take part in yet, ultimately, lies well beyond me. And so as I reflect on Christmas, I know what it is to be an aspiring yet fragile human being. I’ve felt exciting moments on the edge of success and have known what it is to screw up and need forgiveness. I have felt the amazing love of others, often undeserved yet tangible all the same. At that first nativity, I believe God himself entered the messy complexity of our lives and world with the most profound message of love and hope possible. Not just in words but in a life well-lived and a promise of presence and eternal life. Merry Christ-mas!  The first thing I notice is the random cluster of bikes parked outside the café ranging from Japanese street machines to British and American cruisers. I wander inside and get myself a hot mug of tea. There are no formal welcomes, only various bikers in black leathers and motorcycle gear sitting in small groups, talking earnestly or laughing as they chat together. The leader walks in. He has long hair, a wispy beard and piercing blue eyes. This man, Graham, has an unusual warmth in his smile as he glances around, beckoning informally to whoever is interested to join him in the room next door. We get up and slowly wander in across the cold hallway. The seats, like their occupants, are covered in black leather. It’s chilly inside and there’s a single oil-filled heater in the corner. The conversation starts easily, people speaking in relaxed tones as they talk about the ride in, things that have been happening at work in the past week, ordinary things, everyday things. There is no ecclesiastical language, no religious jargon, no speaking in stuffy tones. It feels natural, real. I wonder what’s going to happen next, curious about this earthy bunch of heaven’s angels. This was my first encounter with a Christian Motorcyclists’ Association (CMA) meeting, a loose organisation of ordinary blokes who share two passions: bikes and Jesus. One person talks about how much he struggles to get his head around anything to do with God at the moment, feels very messed up like everything is going wrong in his life. Others around the room nod and empathise. He looks reassured. Another talks excitedly about his return to faith after years in the drugs and clubs scene. He is energetic and animated as he speaks and his enthusiasm is infectious. Another looks thoughtful and talks about how, when he’s working on his bike, he gets totally focused on it. He goes on to comment how easy it is to get preoccupied with things, whether good or bad. The conversation, like the bikes outside, feels random but a strange flow emerges. The bloke next to me chips in, ‘If we focus on something long enough, act on it consistently enough, we become defined by it.’ The bloke next to him agrees and says ‘Yes, like anger. If we allow someone to anger us, they control us.’ Another says, ‘Yes, and if you are always angry, it becomes who you are.’ The room falls silent. One by one, these men start to share stories about when they’ve been angry, when someone has really wound them up, treated them unfairly, different things they’ve tried to deal with it. It gets quite heated at points and Graham chips in with Jesus’ teaching and example of forgiveness, how meaningful it is, how healing it can be. It felt unforced, timely, but I wonder how the others will react. They start mulling over this, how difficult it can be, what it feels like when they manage it even if only for a short time. You can tell these blokes want to get it right, want to follow Jesus’ example, and they're instinctively determined not to gloss over realities. They close by praying out loud, whoever wants to, speaking on behalf of the group. ‘God, help us because we can’t do this stuff on our own.’ The meeting closes and we stroll back into the café. The whole thing has lasted just 30 mins. I feel immediately inspired and challenged by what I’ve just seen, heard, felt, being part of. I don’t own a bike (although I've owned 21 and crashed 19) but these guys accept me, a stranger. As we chat and laugh over bacon and egg, they are the same in the café as they were in the room. No facades, no pretence. They’re happy to get their hands dirty and their faith is very practical too, looking out for each other, providing pastoral care at biker events, running charitable activities, praying for people who need support. We exit the café, the bikes rumble off with a snarling roar…and I’m left with the distinct impression I’ve been in the presence of Jesus. (www.bike.org.uk/cma) I took part in an excellent mediation workshop this week run by Karen Bailey, a talented and experienced coach, mediator and trainer in this field (http://www.karenbaileymediation.com/).
I found it interesting to explore different models and approaches ranging from arbitration and advocacy through to non-directive facilitation. It resonated for me professionally because, as an OD practitioner, I’m often invited to coach others on conflict resolution, to do teambuilding where unresolved conflict is a factor affecting team morale and performance, or to act as a third party helping others (e.g. line managers and staff, or peers) to address and resolve stuck-ness or tensions between them. It also resonates for me spiritually because the notion of mediation is at the heart of my Christian beliefs. The biblical characterisation of Jesus Christ as mediator between God and humanity is the cornerstone of Christian theology, a role that Christians too are called to emulate and follow as peace-builders in the world. The model we explored and practised emphasised the importance of creating a semi-structured space for parties to listen to each other. If they can genuinely hear each other, there is scope for establishing empathy and reaching shared solutions. This involves the willingness of all parties to engage in open, direct and…potentially scary…dialogue. The mediator speaks to this fear dynamic explicitly: ‘This is going to feel very uncomfortable, but we’re here because we believe the outcome will be worth it.’ If the mediator and participants can learn to manage their own anxiety by facing it head on, they may also feel able to lower their defences and hear each other. We looked at four conditions that enable this type of mediation to be successful: the mediator is impartial; the mediation is confidential; participation is voluntary; outcomes are self-determined. These condidtions provide a basis for establishing clarity and for contracting with oneself, participants and sponsors beforehand. Karen explains why these same conditions can sometimes make it difficult for internal HR (or OD) practitioners to fulfil this role within their own organisation or business partnering arena effectively. (For further comment on this issue, see: http://www.karenbaileymediation.com/transforming-hr-practitioners-into-mediators/). We also looked at four aspects of participant experience and perspective that provide a content-orientated focus for the mediation: each participant’s Story; each participant’s felt Impacts; each participant’s Needs; each participant’s Goals (making the acronym SING). The mediator meets with each participant to tease out these aspects beforehand. The participant’s story is his or her own subjective experience of the situation; impacts are what he/she is feeling emotionally; needs are unfulfilled desires or challenged values; goals are the outcomes each person hopes for. ‘What’s going on for me’, ‘How this is impacting me’ and ‘Why this is important to me’. At the start of the session with all parties in the room, the mediator reiterates the process and invites the participants to (a) be honest and direct with each other and (b) listen and show respect to each other. The mediator may invite each party to make an opening statement and then allow the conversation to free-flow. The tricky part I found as mediator-in-practice was when to intervene and not to intervene, how to intervene in such a way that facilitates rather than interferes with the process, how to manage my own anxieties if ferocious conflict emerges, if one party appears bullied or if the conflict became directed at me. Karen offered some useful ideas…simple in principle, harder to do in practice! The mediator can summarise, reflect back…’This is what I’m hearing…’, ‘Sounds like…’, enabling the participants to feel heard before moving on. The mediator can call for a break, allowing mediator and participants to step back, take time out if they need to cool down or reflect before re-engaging. The mediator can co-facilitate with another mediator, creating the benefit of two perspectives, insights and interventions, especially valuable if one of the mediators feels hooked, emotionally destabilised or disorientated by something in the conversation and needs to detach in order to re-engage. The real challenge, opportunity and skill lies in enabling the participants to establish and maintain high quality contact with each other, even if that contact feels loaded with intense emotion. It’s a process that involves faith, faith that if the participants will find a way to hear and connect with each other, that they may feel empathy and will move towards finding their own solutions. It also demands that the mediator be fully present in the room, fully in role and fully in contact with participants. The session ends with participants discussing and agreeing their own way forward. This kind of mediation clearly demands patience and courage but the benefits can be transformative. |
Nick WrightI'm a psychological coach, trainer and OD consultant. Curious to discover how can I help you? Get in touch! 
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