Intentional FaithBefore the Altar, On the Road to Peace
A Day in the Life
“So if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go. First be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift.”
Matthew 5:23–24
There are moments in the life of Jesus that unsettle us not because they are unclear, but because they are painfully clear. Matthew 5:24 is one of those moments. As I sit with this teaching, I find myself slowed down by its directness. Jesus interrupts worship itself—not because worship is unimportant, but because unreconciled relationships distort it. He speaks as if reconciliation is not a spiritual accessory but a prerequisite. In the rhythm of His day, devotion to God and devotion to others are inseparable. I cannot claim intimacy with the Father while harboring distance, resentment, or unresolved conflict with my brother or sister.
What strikes me most is that Jesus places the responsibility squarely on the worshiper, not on the offender. “If you remember that your brother has something against you…”—even if I believe I am right, even if I feel justified, even if I have been wounded. Jesus does not ask who started it. He does not weigh degrees of harm. He simply commands movement toward peace. The Greek word used here for reconciliation, diallassō, carries the sense of a decisive change in relationship, not a symbolic gesture or internal resolution. This is not about feeling peaceful; it is about actively pursuing peace. As John Stott once observed, “Reconciliation is not optional for the Christian; it is a requirement of obedience.” That observation presses against every instinct for self-protection I carry.
The world’s approach to reconciliation is cautious and conditional. It asks whether the other person deserves it, whether the risk is manageable, whether dignity can be preserved. Jesus’ way is far more demanding—and far more freeing. He does not teach His disciples to assert themselves, but to deny themselves. The contrast is sharp. Where the world warns us about being exploited, Jesus is more concerned that love not be withheld. He seems remarkably unconcerned with fairness as we define it. His priority is faithfulness—faithfulness to the character of God, who loves without condition and gives without calculating return.
As I reflect on this teaching, I hear the familiar objections rise within me. What if the wound runs deep? What if the other person refuses? What if reconciliation feels unsafe or humiliating? Jesus anticipates none of these as exceptions. Instead, He broadens the command. If the person is an enemy, love them. If they persecute you, pray for them. If they insult you, do not retaliate. If they take from you, give more. This is not weakness; it is cruciform strength. Dietrich Bonhoeffer captured this tension well when he wrote, “The cross is laid on every Christian. The first Christ-suffering which every man must experience is the call to abandon the attachments of this world.” Reconciliation often begins with that abandonment—the surrender of my right to be understood, vindicated, or repaid.
Jesus Himself embodies what He teaches. No one was more wronged, more humiliated, or more unjustly treated than He was. And yet, from the cross, He prays, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” This is not sentimental forgiveness; it is costly obedience. When I trace a day in the life of Jesus, I see that reconciliation was not an abstract ideal for Him. It was lived out in real time, under real pressure, with real pain. His command carries weight because His life gives it credibility.
One of the most sobering lines in the study is the distinction between “try” and “be.” Scripture does not say, “Try to be reconciled,” but “Be reconciled.” That language leaves little room for spiritualized excuses. It suggests intentional action, not passive intent. Reconciliation may not always restore a relationship to what it once was, but it does restore the disciple to obedience. Paul echoes this when he writes, “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone” (Romans 12:18). The outcome may not be in my control, but obedience always is.
As I walk with this teaching today, I am reminded that reconciliation is not primarily about emotional closure; it is about spiritual alignment. It realigns my heart with the mercy I have received. It loosens the grip of bitterness. It frees worship from contradiction. Augustine once noted, “There is no love without forgiveness, and there is no forgiveness without love.” Jesus seems to agree. He will not allow me to separate my love for God from my posture toward others.
So the question lingers, quietly but persistently: Is there someone with whom I need to make peace? Not someone who owes me an apology, but someone toward whom God is calling me to move. The answer to that question is rarely theoretical. It usually has a name, a face, and a history attached to it. And Jesus, with steady clarity, says, “Go.”
For further reflection on this teaching, see this article from The Gospel Coalition:
https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/jesus-and-the-hard-work-of-reconciliation/
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Alive in Christ
Bernardo Dainese
