Gunfight at the OK Corral. It was my favorite childhood movie. No matter how often I saw it, I never tired of the final confrontation between the forces of good (Wyatt Earp and his brothers, assisted by Doc Holliday) and the forces of evil (the Clantons and their allies). Guns blazed, dust flew, blood flowed, bad guys died: profoundly satisfying for a 10-year-old.

How do we fight our battles? I find myself troubled as I look over the ecclesiastical and political landscape of the Episcopal Church. Does it resemble, perhaps, the OK Corral? Putting the question positively, how should we deal with each other at a time of severe theological conflict? I am on the conservative side of the spectrum, enthusiastically so, orthodox in doctrine (or try to be), evangelical in perspective, but I must admit that people on the right are as guilty as those on the left of fighting with the "weapons of the world" (2 Cor. 10:4).

Theological protagonists in the Episcopal Church tend to employ three primary strategies.

We try to win at General Convention, or at our diocesan conventions. For liberals, the goal might be to pass legislation which would provide liturgical forms for the blessing of same-sex unions. For conservatives, the goal might be to proscribe sexual activity outside of marriage for clergy, either by resolution or by canonical amendment. In either case, the goal is to win.

Here we seek to deal with our opponents by getting a judicial body to outlaw them. The Righter presentment was an attempt to do that from the right, and the (anticipated) presentments surrounding issues connected with implementing Canon III.8.1 would be an analogous attack from the left. In both cases, the church court becomes a way of seeing to it that our side wins and the other side loses.

Sometimes we look to civil law to help us in our conflicts. Thus the legal battles that often surround the departure of a congregation from the Episcopal Church. Thus "PECUSA, Inc.," its foundation - and now the countervening lawsuit filed by the dioceses of Newark and New Jersey [TLC, Feb. 22]; one legal maneuver answered by another. Since we cannot keep our house in order through canonical procedures, proponents might argue, we must push beyond the boundaries of the church into the murky waters of litigation. We invoke the world to assist us when we are unable to help ourselves.

Now here I must add a two-fold acknowledgment. First, the Christians involved in all three strategies are persons of integrity, people who desire the Lord's best for his church. Second, I am hardly a bystander to solution-by-legislation, ecclesiastical trials, or legal maneuvering. While not a "mike hound" at General Convention, I am not "mike shy" either. I'm fully engaged in the political processes by which our church makes its decisions; and in the future I expect to continue to be involved.

And yet ... is there another way? To fill out the passage mentioned earlier: "Though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does. The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world" (2 Cor. 10:3-4). Paul makes this statement in the context of theological/ pastoral controversy. Things aren't going well between him and his Corinthian converts. These new Christians have become "superspiritual," thinking that they have outdistanced their mentor. And so Paul goes to battle. In doing so, he eschews the ways of the world. Can we?

I believe we need a change of heart, a massive corporate conversion on both sides of the theological divide. God has ever put this challenge before the church. The apostolic college, after all, included Matthew the tax collector and Simon the Zealot, the New Testament church numbered James the Judaizer and Paul, missionary to the Gentiles, among its leaders. We live with a twin calling: as "ambassadors for Christ" (2 Cor. 5:20), contending with all our might for the truth, for the deep convictions of our hearts and minds; and as ministers of the One who reconciled the apparently irreconcilable (Eph. 2:15-16), "making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace" (Eph. 4:3). What then must we do?

This is no pious prelude. "Almighty God, you know that we have no power in ourselves to help ourselves" (Collect for 3 Lent). So we must begin by coming before God acutely aware of our dependence upon him. In the face of "the great dangers we are in by our unhappy divisions" (BCP, p. 818), we are reduced to prayer. There is nowhere else to turn. We must pray for ourselves. We must pray for our allies. We must pray for our opponents. We must pray above all for the church which Jesus loves, which is his bride, and for which he gave his life.

All of us, despite our sincerity, are blinded by sin, the inherent tendency (as William Temple described it) to place ourselves at the center of our own universe, with God relegated to the fringes. We are "bent" (C.S. Lewis' term), turned in on ourselves, capable of infinite self-deception. Yes, we are redeemed; but like our brother Paul, we struggle with the on-going reality of our rebellious hearts (Rom. 7:14-24): all of us, Ed Little included. And so we must enter the ecclesiopolitical fray with great humility.

We tend to throw slogans at each other. We need instead to move toward in-depth discussion. The "Burning Issues" conference in Virginia [TLC, Jan. 4] was an unprecedented attempt to deal with a hot issue (homosexuality) in a venue that allowed for an encounter with ideas. I must add that some press reports indicate a difference of approach: conservatives tending to be propositional (I certainly am!) and liberals more story-driven. Perhaps we can learn from one another's methodologies.

We also tend to view one another through stereotypical lenses. We need to discover the real person, the real Christian. Not every conservative is a reactionary, bigoted Neanderthal. Not every liberal is a Christ-denying, Bible-weak reductionist. There are shades of viewpoint throughout the spectrum. For example, I am the conservative rector of an evangelical parish, and I have gay communicants. They know where I stand, yet feel welcomed here. I know of liberals who, on all of the issues except those involving sexuality, seem to be as orthodox as Athanasius. We can only discover these things by engaging one another.

Episcopalians - at least the politically savvy kind - live in threes: not, in this case, the blessed Trinity, but the interval between General Conventions. We're always pressed by the run-up to the next battle. Can we elect sufficient deputies on "our" side to guarantee victory, or at least to stave off defeat? What an enormous expenditure of energy, resources and time, while "the Church neglect[s] its mission and the Gospel go[es] unheard" (Hymn 528). Perhaps we need to say, "Time out!" Stop. If we're going to do our theological homework, and if we're going to deal with each other as people, we must take a breath and realize that we need live in the already/not yet tension of not making a decision.

We react quickly to supposed attacks from the other side. We assume the worst of the other's motives. Why must we? Why not assume that our opponents (though we're convinced they're wrong) are honorable men and women? I am not talking about theological relativism here. I believe that my cause is right, and I will work for biblical orthodoxy with all of my strength. But I also believe that we must give people the space to grow. All of us, on both sides of the divide, must speak "sotto voce." A commitment to "space" means a commitment to allowing the Spirit to work in the heart of an opponent - and in our own as well.

Neither is this a pious afterthought. No, it is the very heart of the matter. Jesus is our only hope - and I mean that quite literally. We cannot bring healing to our church. Jesus alone can do that. "For he himself is our peace" (Eph. 2:14). Somehow, having gone to the theological mat with our opponents, we need to stop and turn our eyes upon Jesus. I am not naive; our alienation is profound. This is bad news, yes; but it is also good news: Our cleverness and even our commitment to ideas deeply maintained cannot rescue us from disaster. That is the work of Jesus, who ended his earthly ministry by praying for our unity (John 17:20-22). So we must together throw ourselves upon his mercy and meet him whom we encounter in the manger, on the cross, in the Risen One who beckons us to follow him.

The Very Rev. Edward Little II is an occasional contributor to TLC. He is the rector of All Saints' Church, Bakersfield, Calif.