You know the feeling in your stomach before you've even parked. It isn't the work that does it. It's the knowledge that they will be there: the one who talks over you in meetings, who rewrites your sentences, who answers a plain question with a sigh. You have already had the whole argument in the shower. You will have it again on the drive home.

Here is the uncomfortable part. Someone you resent takes up more room in your head than most people you love. You give them your best attention at your worst hour, and they never even know.

This article is about one small practice that can start to change that. It won't make the coworker nicer. It may change what they cost you.

The story you tell about them

Psychologists have a name for the first problem: the fundamental attribution error. Lee Ross described the tendency in the 1970s. When someone else behaves badly, we tend to read it as who they are. When we behave badly, we explain it by the situation: we were tired, behind, under pressure.

So the colleague who snaps in a meeting is simply rude. You, snapping in the same meeting, were having a hard week.

The error is a habit of the mind, not a verdict on anyone. But it matters because resentment runs on it. Once you've filed someone as "a difficult person," every new interaction gets sorted into the file. The curt email confirms it. The friendly one is suspicious. You stop seeing a person with a mortgage, a sick parent, or a boss of their own. You see a type.

Rumination feeds on this too. Replaying a slight in your head can feel like problem-solving, but it usually just keeps the wound open. You need a practice that interrupts the loop without pretending the problem isn't real.

What Romans 12:18 actually asks

Paul writes to a young church full of people who had good reason to dislike one another and, in places, to fear the people around them. In Romans 12:18 he says: "If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone."

Read it slowly, because two phrases do the work.

If it is possible. Paul isn't naive. He admits that peace sometimes isn't available. Some people won't be reconciled, and some workplaces are not safe or fair. This verse doesn't tell you to absorb abuse or stay silent about real wrongdoing. Reporting harassment or setting a firm boundary is not a failure to pray.

As far as it depends on you. This is the liberating phrase. It draws a line around your responsibility. You are not accountable for whether they change or whether the tension ends. You are accountable for your side: your tone, your posture, the thoughts you feed.

Most of us live in the opposite place. We spend our energy on the part that doesn't depend on us (their attitude, their promotion, their apology) and neglect the part that does.

Why pray for them, not just about them

There is a difference between praying about a person and praying for one. Praying about them is a complaint with a holy accent: "Lord, you see how Dana treats me." It has its place, and the psalmists did it constantly. But it keeps you facing the grievance.

Jesus goes somewhere stranger in Matthew 5:44: "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." Your coworker is almost certainly not persecuting you, but the instruction points at the most resistant person in your life and says to turn toward them rather than away.

I can't offer a study proving this practice softens resentment, and I won't invent one. What I can say is that the mechanism is plausible and easy to test for yourself. To pray for someone sincerely, you have to hold them in mind as a whole person, someone who needs things, fears things, and gets tired. That works directly against the file you've put them in. Perspective-taking is a well-studied way to loosen rigid judgments of others. Prayer is an old, concrete way to practice it.

Notice that you aren't asked to feel affection first. You pray the words, and the feeling is allowed to arrive late, or not at all. The practice is faithful either way.

A scene to practice with

Picture the next morning. You're in the car, or at the kitchen table, before the day has any claim on you. You have one verse in front of you: Romans 12:18. You read it twice, aloud if you can.

Then you say their name. Not "that person." The name.

You start small and honest:

"God, I find it hard to be around Dana. You know why. I don't want to pretend otherwise. But I'm asking you to be good to her today. Let her have a day that goes better than she expects. And show me my part in the peace that depends on me."

That last line is the hinge. It points your attention back to the half of the verse that is yours.

It may feel thin, even a little false. That's normal. The first few days you may be mostly gritting your teeth. Stay with it anyway, and watch for small shifts: you notice she looked tired. You catch yourself mid-replay and put it down. You answer an email without the edge.

None of these is a miracle. They are what a changing heart looks like from the inside.

Your next moves

  • Write the name down. Tonight, put the coworker's first name on a sticky note or in your phone. A name is harder to resent than a category.
  • Pray Romans 12:18 tomorrow before you walk in. Read it twice. Then pray one sentence for them ("let her day go well") and one for yourself ("show me my part"). Two sentences are enough.
  • Name one thing that does depend on you. Choose a concrete behavior: answering within the hour, not sighing back, saying good morning first. Do only that one thing this week.
  • Catch the file. When you think "he's just a jerk," ask silently: what might be true of his week that I can't see? You don't have to believe the answer. Asking loosens the grip.
  • Separate prayer from protection. If the behavior is harassment, discrimination, or abuse, document it and take it to HR or a manager. Praying for someone and holding them accountable are not opposites.
  • Review in two weeks. Ask one question: is this person taking up less room in my head? That's your measure, not whether they changed.

A quiet companion for the hard hours

Practices like this survive only when they're small and easy to repeat, and that is why a daily rhythm of one verse and one honest prayer matters more than any grand effort. Lectio is built around that idea: a single passage of Scripture each day, prayed slowly, so a verse like Romans 12:18 is already waiting when you need it rather than something you hunt for in a bad mood. If the coworker you dread is the person you most want to be freed from, you might begin there. You can find it at lectio.lumenlabs.works.