Every church has at least one obnoxious person. Maybe they are loud. Maybe they are controlling. Maybe they always have (and share) their strong opinions. Maybe they are passive-aggressive. Maybe they are chronically negative. Maybe they say awkward things, dominate conversations, or make everything harder than it needs to be.

If we are honest, most of us already have somebody in mind. That is the easy part. The harder part is realizing that, at some point, to some degree, in somebody else’s story, you are that person. Each of us at some point, from somebody’s perspective, is the obnoxious person.

One reason unity is challenging is that the church is composed entirely of difficult people, each at different stages of sanctification. Some of us are more polished, while others may have greater self-awareness. Some are easier to love than others, but none of us is without our flaws.

Therefore, the real question isn’t, “How do I deal with the obnoxious person in church?” Rather, it’s “How can I become less obnoxious myself? How can I become the type of person who fosters unity instead of secretly undermining it?”

In Colossians, Paul writes to Christians who are learning what it means to live as people whose old life has died and whose new life is hidden with Christ. He has already reminded them that they have been raised with Christ, that they are to put to death the old patterns of sin, and that in this new humanity the old divisions no longer define them. So when he gets to Colossians 3, he is not merely telling them to be nicer. He is showing them what a church looks like when people stop living out of the old self and begin living out of their new life in Jesus.

That is why Paul writes, “Therefore, chosen by God for this new life of love, dress in the wardrobe God picked out for you: compassion, kindness, humility, quiet strength, discipline. Be even-tempered, content with second place, quick to forgive an offense. Forgive as quickly and completely as the Master forgave you. And regardless of what else you put on, wear love. It’s your basic, all-purpose garment. Never be without it” (Colossians 3.12–14, Msg).

One reason obnoxiousness is hard to see in ourselves is that we usually have a reason for it. We label it as “being honest,” “having standards,” “just telling the truth,” or “discernment.” However, sometimes what we perceive as conviction is merely impatience. Sometimes what we call honesty is actually a lack of self-control. And sometimes what we consider a concern is just gossip dressed up in nicer words.

This is why Paul’s words in Colossians 3 matter so much. He is not merely telling us how to manage difficult people. He is telling us to become different people. He tells us to “put to death” what belongs to the old self (Colossians 3.5), to “put them all away: anger, wrath, malice, slander, and obscene talk” (Colossians 3.8), and then to “put on” compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, patience, forgiveness, and love (Colossians 3.12–14).

In other words, before I ask, “Who is making this church difficult to love?” I should also consider, “What am I wearing?” That is: Am I dressed in compassion or irritation? In humility or superiority? In patience or sharpness? In love or just my opinions?

True growth comes from recognizing our own flaws rather than just pointing out others’ shortcomings. To become a better version of myself, I know I need more than just techniques for handling conflict—I require genuine transformation. It’s about shedding my old self and embracing the character of Christ. Thankfully, Paul offers us a clear and inspiring path to follow on this journey.

Put off passive aggression: stop using niceness to hide contempt.

Passive aggression is one of the church’s favorite respectable sins. Some of us know how to smile and wound with our words at the same time. We know how to make a cutting comment sound spiritual. But Scripture tells us to put away falsehood and speak the truth in love (Ephesians 4.15, 25). Passive aggression is not maturity. It is contempt wearing church clothes.

Put off triangulation: stop talking to everyone except the person involved.

One of the easiest ways to poison a church is to keep widening the circle of a conflict. Instead of going to the person who hurt us, we go to five other people first. We can even give it the positive spin and say we are merely processing it. And sometimes it is. Often, however, it is just gossip with a therapeutic vocabulary.

Jesus gives a better way: “If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault, between you and him alone” (Matthew 18.15). Proverbs warns that “he who repeats a matter separates close friends” (Proverbs 17.9).  If your goal is restoration, keep the circle small. Go to the person, speak honestly and humbly. Speak in a way that leaves room for the possibility that you may not be seeing everything clearly either.

Bonhoeffer was right: “Nothing can be more cruel than the leniency which abandons others to their sin. Nothing can be more compassionate than the severe reprimand which calls another Christian in one’s community back from the path of sin” (Life Together [New York: Harper & Row, 1954], 107).

Put off resentment: stop feeding wounds until they become identity.

A small wound left untreated can become a serious infection. The same is true in the body of Christ. Hurt that is not brought into the light hardens. It becomes bitterness. It begins to shape how you hear everything and how you see everyone. Scripture says, “Let all bitterness and wrath and anger… be put away from you” (Ephesians 4.31). Do not nurse the wound until it starts to define you.

Put on forgiveness: refuse to let offense become your master.

Forgiveness is not calling evil good. It is not minimizing sin. It is not pretending you were not hurt. It is not saying, “It is fine,” when it was not fine. Forgiveness is refusing to let evil rule you.

It is releasing your right to nurse the wound forever. It is choosing not to weaponize the offense. It is opening the door for restoration, even if trust may need time to rebuild.

Paul says, “As the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive” (Col. 3.13). That means our model is not our own emotional comfort. Our model is Jesus. And that cuts both ways.

It means I forgive because I have been forgiven. And it also means I remember that I am not only the wounded one in the story. At times I am also the wounder. I am not just the person who needs grace. I am also the person whose rough edges, selfishness, blindness, and sin make grace necessary for other people.

That realization can be painful. It is also freeing.

Because once I stop trying to be the hero of every conflict, I can begin to repent, to listen, and to change.

Put on love: let Christ, not your preferences, define what matters most.

“Above all this,” Paul says, “put on love” (Col. 3.14). Love is what binds everything together. Love is not sentimental weakness. It is the Spirit-formed strength to tell the truth, stay committed to the relationship, and refuse to let lesser things become ultimate things.

Putting on love looks like this:

  • Assuming the best before assuming the worst.
  • Listening to understand, not just to respond.
  • Speaking directly to the person instead of talking indirectly about them.
  • Repenting quickly when your own tone, pride, or carelessness has done damage.
  • Refusing to reduce a brother or sister to their worst moment.

That is what love does. Love is not just a feeling you have toward pleasant people. It is a way of being with difficult people in the presence of Jesus. Which is why Jesus says, “By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13.35). The world is meant to recognize Jesus, at least in part, by the way his people love each other. So love is not optional. It is how the church holds together, and it is how the church bears witness.

What is Jesus trying to change in me?

The church will never become a place of deep unity if all of us are waiting for the obnoxious people to change first. Because at some point, from someone else’s perspective, that person is me. And that person is you.

So the invitation is not just to handle conflict better. It is to let Christ remake us. To put off the habits that poison peace. To put on the kind of love that tells the truth, stays at the table, repents quickly, and refuses to let lesser things become ultimate things.

A church like that will still be messy. It will still require patience. It will still involve awkward conversations and the occasional wound. But it will also be the kind of place where people are known, forgiven, and formed. It will be the kind of place where the world catches a glimpse of Jesus.

The goal is not a church full of easy people. The goal is a church full of people being changed by Jesus.

And that begins when I stop asking only how to fix the obnoxious person in the church and start asking how Jesus wants to fix me.

So this week, do not just ask who frustrates you.

Ask where Christ is inviting you to repent.

Ask what old-self habit needs to come off.

Ask what love would look like in your next conversation.

Because the future of unity in your church may depend less on fixing them than on surrendering yourself.

 

Fr. Chase