A family in our church recently had their basement finished by a contractor. The process ended up being one of those construction nightmare stories. I knew both parties in the debacle and somehow got myself in the middle of the dispute.

As the conflict became more ugly, I received calls from both sides; each party tried to use me to reinforce their case. Such conversations turned negative quickly. The homeowner once told me, "And not only does he (the contractor) do shoddy work, but I've heard stories about how unethical he has been in paying former employees."

The contractor was guilty of the same low blows as the conflict escalated. Eventually I found myself succumbing to the temptation of letting my knowledge of the other party leak out in conversations with each side. It wasn't until too late that I caught myself and moved back to a neutral position. But by then I had already said too much. One party confronted me about my loose tongue. I had to admit my error, and then I went back to the other party and did the same. In the end, my error turned out to be a lesson for all three of us; the two parties admitted they had made the same mistake.

Conflict has a way of growing from a small snowslide into a full-scale avalanche, and on its way downhill it can sweep victims into its wake. A conflict has the potential to mar the integrity of combatants on both sides. That happens as each side seeks to garner support for its position—making exaggerated statements, shading the truth, impugning the motives of others.