My worst experience as a radio reporter in Winnipeg back in the ‘80s happened when I was assigned to cover a news briefing on government changes to the Crowsnest Pass freight rates. It was an important, long-awaited, national story that would have a direct impact on the Prairie economy and beyond. And because I reported for Manitoba’s top radio station, I knew that potentially thousands would be hanging on my every word.

The problem was I hadn’t a clue what I was trying to explain. How could a city slicker like me possibly get my head around this “farm” story? The briefings confused me. The news releases made no sense. But I was under the pressure of a deadline, and so I had to get something out. To this day, I have no idea whether what I reported had a scintilla of accuracy to it.

I was embarrassed. I was so completely out of my depth. And I was so glad to head over to the “cop shop” for our daily spoon-feeding on what Winnipeg’s criminal element had been up to. Easy, bite-sized stories that took just a few minutes to write and even less to record for broadcast. And then move on.

Nothing like it
I wasn’t alone. For most general reporters, there is nothing like the straight-ahead, simple story. And if there’s some conflict involved, some verbal sparring, even better. Then your story’s got some heat. It’s got good sound-bites. It’s quickly told and easily understood. And it’s—well—entertaining. (A case in point was the dust-up in November between Prime Minister Paul Martin and then-Liberal MP Carolyn Parrish. I’d bet Parliament Hill reporters would rather tackle something like that any day than have to endure a news conference on tariffs on softwood lumber.)

Conflict assumed
I’ve been away from that type of journalism for many years now—and glad of it. All my work now is in the Christian media. But what I’ve come to realize, especially in the past few months, is that I’ve never really shaken off the craving for a little conflict to give my stories that extra “punch.” There have been times when I’ve approached assignments simply assuming that the conflict needed only to be exposed, only to discover that what conflict did exist was often muted or nuanced.

As the readers of these pages will know, I’ve used up gallons of ink covering the deep divisions among Anglicans. But the volume of stories chronicling their battles has tapered off of late, because time and again the big explosion that I thought was going to happen very, very soon never really happened. Sure, tempers will flare over some statement or report, but then the rhetoric cools, and the “conversation” continues. I’ve come to appreciate that despite the severe strains on their unity, Anglicans basically don’t want a divorce—and as long as there’s the faintest shred of hope of avoiding schism, they’ll keep talking.

That’s not especially newsworthy, but good for them.

Then there are the Mennonites. Once again I assumed from what I had been told that they were, like the Anglicans, on the verge of splitting. Well, it soon became clear from a couple of interviews that there are indeed real tensions within the Mennonite community—but these are more than offset by a mutual desire to treat one another with civility and respect. Nor were their differences as clear-cut as I had thought.

Live in harmony
Despite all we keep hearing about how Christians act no differently from the rest of the world, here may be something that actually does set at least some of us apart: the desire to live in harmony with fellow believers. As Paul admonished the church in Rome, “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone” (Romans 12:18).

I’ve learned a good lesson, even if I’m not pleased that it’s taken me this long to get it. Reporting on the life of Canada’s Christian community may often lack the combativeness and the “sizzle” we’ve come to expect from other newsmakers, but that’s more than made up by the exercise of grace, and many of us do try, however grudgingly, to love one another.