Don’t Cut What You Can Untie

Have you ever read a familiar passage of Scripture and suddenly seen something you had never noticed before? That happened to me recently with Philippians 4.

I’ve read these verses countless times. I’ve preached them. I’ve quoted them. “Rejoice in the Lord always.” “Do not be anxious about anything.” “The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds.” “Whatever is true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, and commendable…think about these things.”

We love these verses—and for good reason.

But this time, I noticed their context.

Paul isn’t writing these words in a vacuum. At the beginning of Philippians 4, he addresses a conflict between two women named Euodia and Syntyche. These weren’t outsiders causing trouble. Paul speaks affectionately about them. They had labored alongside him for the gospel. They loved Jesus and had helped build the church.

And now they couldn’t get along.

Whatever had happened between them had become significant enough that word traveled all the way to Paul in Rome. So Paul pleads with them to “agree in the Lord” and even asks others in the church to help them work through their disagreement.

Then Paul tells them to rejoice. To be gentle. To pray instead of worry. To guard their thoughts. To put what they've learned into practice.

Suddenly, Philippians 4:4–9 isn't just a collection of encouraging verses.

It's a roadmap for navigating relational conflict.

And relationships matter because I've noticed something over the years: when God is moving in a church, if the enemy can't disrupt it from without, he'll try to disrupt it from within.

Division can accomplish what persecution sometimes cannot.

That's why I believe it is to the glory of God to resolve a relationship rather than dissolve it.

This summer, I helped as a counselor at a kids' camp. I was also responsible for transporting some of the luggage in the back of my truck, so everything had to be tied down with ropes and straps.

On the way home, I had strapped everything down especially tight because of the rain. When we arrived, all the parents were waiting for their kids' luggage, and I couldn't get one of the straps untied.

I pulled on it. Worked at it. Nothing.

Eventually, I got impatient, grabbed a knife from my truck, and cut it.

Problem solved. Later, I remembered an old saying:

Never cut what you can untie.

I probably could have gotten that knot undone. It just would have taken more time and patience than I wanted to give it.

I wonder how often we do the same thing with people.

We cut what could have been untied.

We end the friendship. Stop returning the phone call. Leave the group. Avoid the conversation. Write someone off. And certainly, there are relationships where healthy boundaries are necessary. But sometimes we've simply become unwilling to patiently work through the knot.

Paul gives us another way. He begins with joy.

“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice.” Joy gives us perspective.

Joy doesn't deny that something is wrong. Joy remembers what's still right.

When conflict enters a relationship, it's easy for the problem to become the only thing we can see. But joy reminds us to look for the grace of God that's still at work—in us, in the other person, and in the situation.

I am someone who needs grace and has received the grace of Jesus. The person I'm frustrated with needs that same grace. That changes how I see them.

Recently, I was driving through an intense rainstorm. It was raining so hard that I could barely see the road in front of me. In those situations, I start looking and listening for whatever indicators I can find. I listen for the rumble strips. I look for the reflectors. I watch for the faintest glimpse of the line beside me.

I may not be able to see everything clearly, but those little indicators tell me I'm still on the road. Joy does something similar.

Even when a relationship becomes difficult and I can't see everything clearly, I can still look for evidence of God's grace. Where can I see Him working? What is still good? What can I still honor in this person?

Joy changes my perspective.

Then Paul says, “Let your gentleness be known to everyone.”

Gentleness is our posture.

If being right is my position, gentleness determines my posture.

My convictions tell people what I believe. My gentleness tells people who I belong to.

Gentleness doesn't mean weakness. It means humility. Soft speech. A thoughtful, well-chosen response. It means I can say hard things in kind ways.

And before I ever enter a difficult conversation, I can decide who I'm going to be when I get there.

I don't have to match someone else's anger. I don't have to escalate because they escalated. I don't have to let the atmosphere determine my response.

I can be a thermostat instead of a thermometer.

That's important because you can be right and still be wrong.

You can win the argument and lose your witness.

I don't only want the right position. I want the right posture.

Then Paul turns to anxiety.

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.”

Few things can fill our minds with worry like relational conflict.

We replay the conversation. Imagine what they're thinking. Rehearse what we'll say next time. Predict how everything is going to fall apart.

Worry is rehearsing the problem. Prayer is releasing the problem.

It's often the same conversation—we're just having it with a different Person.

Instead of endlessly talking to myself about the situation, I invite God into it.

I've learned to practice this when my own mind won't slow down. Sometimes I'll write out everything I'm worried about. Beside each problem, I'll write down something about the character of God that speaks to it.

If I need provision, God is my Provider. If I need direction, God is my Shepherd. Then I'll find a promise in Scripture connected to that truth, worship God for who He is, and pray His promise over the situation. Then I release it.

But Paul adds something incredibly important: pray with thanksgiving.

Prayer without thanksgiving can become another form of worry. I can talk to God while still obsessing over everything that's wrong. Thanksgiving interrupts that cycle.

I remember what God has already done, and it gives me faith for what He can still do.

Sometimes that means learning to thank God in circumstances I never would have chosen. Not necessarily because the situation itself is good, but because I trust that God is still present and working within it.

And when we begin releasing those things to God, something happens.

Peace comes. Paul says the peace of God, which surpasses understanding, will guard our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. I love the exchange happening there:

When I give God what I cannot understand, He gives me a peace I cannot understand.

I may not know how the relationship gets repaired. I may not understand why the conflict happened. I may not know what the other person will do.

But I can know the peace of God.

Paul says that peace guards us. It's like a soldier standing at the entrance of our minds and emotions, refusing to allow offense, bitterness, anxiety, and unforgiveness to regain control.

But then Paul gets even more practical.

He tells us what to think about. Whatever is true. Honorable. Just. Pure. Lovely. Commendable. Excellent. Worthy of praise. I like to think of this as a filter for the mind.

Because offense is a lousy editor of reality.

When we're offended, we minimize someone's strengths and maximize their weaknesses. We make assumptions about motives. We interpret silence. We decide what they're probably saying about us. Before long, we're responding to a version of reality that may not even be true.

Paul tells us to bring our thoughts back under control.

• What are the actual facts?

• Am I thinking honorably about this person?

• Am I giving them the same benefit of the doubt I want them to give me?

• Am I being too certain when I should be more curious?

• Is there still something beautiful or commendable I can recognize in them?

• Is there anything worth celebrating?

This is why what saturates our minds matters so much.

I've recently started writing out the book of Proverbs by hand. I read a chapter, write it down, and say the words as I write. I've been amazed by how often Proverbs now comes to mind throughout my day.

I'm thinking Scripture because I've been saturating my mind with Scripture.

That's the kind of mind I want when conflict comes.

Because relational conflict doesn't always change us at first. It reveals us.

It reveals what we've been saturated in. If my mind is saturated in offense, that's what will come out. If it's saturated in fear, fear will come out. But if my mind is saturated in the Word of God, then when pressure comes, I have something different to draw from.

Finally, Paul says, “What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me—practice these things.” That's where all of this becomes real.

Practice. Discipleship isn't just information. It's information plus imitation.

The people around us may learn more about our faith by watching how we navigate conflict than by listening to what we say when everything is going well.

Your children are watching.

Your coworkers are watching.

Your friends are watching.

The people you lead are watching.

They're seeing what happens when you're misunderstood, criticized, offended, or disappointed. They're watching whether the joy, gentleness, peace, and self-control we talk about actually become visible when relationships get hard.

So maybe there's a conversation you've been avoiding.

• Make the phone call.

• Send the text.

• Apologize.

• Choose gentleness.

• Ask questions before making assumptions.

• Pray before rehearsing the problem another hundred times in your mind.

• Move toward resolution.

• Don't cut what you can untie.

And here's the promise: as you move, God moves with you.

Paul says that when we put these things into practice, “the God of peace will be with you.”

Not just peace. The God of peace Himself.

You don't have to untangle every relationship on your own. You simply have to be willing to take the next faithful step and trust that the God of peace will meet you there.