About forty pastors and denominational leaders in Michigan squeezed into a relatively small conference room to discuss urgent and somewhat controversial matters. It didn't take long for the discussion to escalate. Volumes increased. Tones grew edges. Observations teetered dangerously close to accusations. Fittingly, lightning flashed through the windows, followed seconds later by thunder heralding a coming storm.

In the midst of the battle, a distinguished African American pastor stood slowly—intentionally so. As he rose, the noise shrank. Everyone knew him as "Brother Rochelle." His demeanor commanded respect.

Brother Rochelle scanned the room for a good five seconds and then, with a voice trembling with compassion, he spoke, slowly and carefully: "Oh … my dear … children." He stopped—as did the thunder. It was as though Brother Rochelle had paused to wait for the Spirit of God to prepare the ears and the hearts of every single individual in the room. When he spoke again, it wasn't a lengthy speech. He quoted a single Bible verse many of us had memorized as children in Sunday school: "Be ye kind, one to another." Each word dripped with compassion. "Tenderhearted," he continued, looking around the room as if to convey just how much he loved every single one of us. "Forgiving one another."

When he sat down, we all sat in the silence brought about by the power of an aptly spoken word. The storm passed. Attitudes shifted. Peace reigned. The meeting continued in a spirit of brotherly love.