Two Viking Warlords and a Garden Hose

Most conflicts don’t begin with shouting.

They begin with something quiet inside us that doesn’t get what it wants.

I picked up the garden hose and began returning fire.

My brother had armed himself with a garden rake. I stepped into the battle holding a hose more than five meters long, swinging it like a medieval weapon. We circled each other violently, fully committed to the moment.

It was a cool spring day in Missouri, on our family farm.

Mother had decided she wanted a garden—despite the fact that nobody in the house actually enjoyed vegetables. Still, we obeyed. We went to the garden. Neither of us boys wanted to be there.

And I suppose that’s where it all started.

Misplaced expectations.

Unwanted circumstances.

Two boys who felt forced into something they didn’t choose.

There were no war horses or shining armor.

No cheering battalions. No drums. No banners.

It was man versus man—

or rather, a ten-year-old boy versus an eleven-year-old.

The seed packets were the silent bystanders, scattered and trampled in the chaos. They were the true victims of the conflict. And if we’re being honest, the prize we both really wanted had nothing to do with gardening at all.

What we desired was freedom.

Freedom to be done.

Freedom to escape the dirt.

Freedom to return to our video game consoles as quickly as possible.

That—more than the rake or the hose—I suppose was the real fuel behind the fight.

Before long, we were no longer farm kids—we were Viking warlords battling for dominance in a freshly tilled battlefield.

I don’t remember who won. Not that it would have mattered.

Neither of us was wounded in our conquests.

But I do remember the loudest sound of the battle.

It wasn’t the hose cracking the air.

It wasn’t the rake scraping dirt.

It was my mother screaming for us to stop—much to her absolute frustration.

That childhood moment has stayed with me, not because it was dramatic, but because it was revealing.

We weren’t fighting because of a rake or a hose.

We were fighting because of what was already going on inside us.

We weren’t fighting over a hose or a rake. We were fighting over unmet desires.

Conflict Isn’t Strange — It’s Expected

When we talk about conflict, we often act surprised by it.

Why did this happen?

Why can’t people just get along?

Why is church, family, or work so difficult sometimes?

But Scripture never treats conflict as an anomaly.

“From whence come wars and fightings among you? come they not hence, even of your lusts that war in your members?” (James 4:1,)

James is not writing to unbelievers.

He’s writing to believers.

And the conflicts he describes aren’t abstract—they’re personal. Real. Emotional. Close to home.

Scripture assumes conflict will happen.

Disagreement does not automatically mean sin.

Struggle does not mean failure.

Tension does not mean God has abandoned us.

Conflict is not surprising.

Unexamined conflict, however, is dangerous.

Scripture doesn’t ask us first who caused the conflict. It asks what’s happening inside us.

The Problem Isn’t Always the Situation

When conflict arises, our instinct is to point outward.

If only circumstances were different.

If only that person hadn’t said that.

If only things had gone my way.

That’s how two boys end up fighting in a garden that never mattered to them in the first place.

James doesn’t let us stay there.

He doesn’t start with the argument.

He doesn’t analyze the personalities.

He doesn’t blame the environment.

He goes straight to the source.

“Your lusts… that war in your members.”

The language is strong—wars, fightings, war within.

James is saying something uncomfortable but freeing:

Most conflict doesn’t start with events.

It starts with desires.

Unmet expectations.

Wounded pride.

A need to be right.

A desire to control.

Circumstances light the match, but the fuel is already inside us.

Circumstances light the match. Desires supply the fuel.

Why Small Issues Become Big Battles

Have you ever noticed how minor things escalate?

A comment becomes an argument.

A tone becomes a standoff.

A small disagreement becomes emotional distance.

The issue is rarely proportional to the reaction.

That’s because the conflict isn’t really about this moment—it’s about what this moment touches.

James shows us that when desires go unmet, they don’t quietly fade. They press. They push. They demand.

And when two people’s desires collide, peace quickly becomes collateral damage.

Most conflicts are not caused by events.

They are caused by competing desires.

Why Admitting Our Part Is So Hard

If conflict only comes from others, then we are always justified.

We stay defensive.

We stay angry.

We stay stuck.

But when Scripture reveals that conflict also comes from within us, something changes.

Humility becomes possible.

Self-examination slows escalation.

Instead of asking, “Who’s wrong?”

We begin asking, “What’s going on in my heart?”

That question doesn’t excuse sin—but it does expose it honestly.

Peace rarely begins with being right. It begins with being honest.

Conflict Reveals What Matters Most

Conflict has a way of uncovering priorities.

What we fight over often shows what we value most.

What we demand reveals what we worship.

James isn’t condemning desire itself—he’s confronting disordered desire.

When my will becomes supreme, peace becomes optional.

When my expectations go unquestioned, relationships suffer.

Conflict often reveals what matters most to us—whether we admit it or not.

Living This Out This Week

This week, conflict will come.

At home.

At work.

At church.

In conversations you didn’t plan.

When it does, remember this:

Conflict isn’t always a sign something is wrong around you.

Sometimes it’s a sign something needs attention within you.

Biblical peace begins with honest self-examination before God.

And often, that’s where healing starts.

God doesn’t just address our conflicts. He addresses our hearts.

Closing Reflection

I don’t remember who won that childhood battle in the garden.

But I do know this—no one really wins when unchecked desires rule the moment.

God, in His mercy, doesn’t just address our conflicts.

He addresses our hearts.

And that’s good news.

Because when God changes the heart,

He also changes the way we get along.