Three ways to move from hate to love When difficulties arise, what do we trust?
“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy,’” Jesus said in Matthew 5:43-48. He was speaking to a large crowd of people from many walks of life. Within this crowd, you would find people from different regions with different beliefs, worldviews, and philosophies on how to live.
In this particular region, some people were hearing from leaders of the day that it was okay to hate your enemy. Whether it was the Samaritans, the Gentiles, or the Roman
Empire, the understanding was if they wronged you, betrayed you, or disagreed with you, then you were justified in hating them. Interestingly enough, doesn’t that reflect our culture today? Of course most Christians know hate is wrong, which is why we don’t use that word very much. Instead, we “strongly dislike.”
Hate is simply the inability to love. Perhaps there is someone in your life you are unable to love because of different beliefs, worldviews, philosophies, or because of how they have treated you. No matter how you label it, if you are unable to love them, that’s hate. Unfortunately, some of us have heard leaders in our culture justify why it’s okay to hate.
Who do you have the inability to love? Someone who has a different political view than you? Someone who stands on the opposite end of the abortion conversation than you do? Someone who believes COVID-19 is just a hoax? Maybe it’s someone close to you. An ex-husband or girlfriend who wronged you. The person who bullied you for years. A parent who left you. loving them.
I think every one of us could make a very strong case for why our feelings towards our enemies are justifiable, but Jesus has a completely different approach. He tells us to love them. But truthfully, I hate loving my enemies. Sorry, I mean I strongly dislike
1. Remind yourself they are human
We’ve all done or said something we regret, and I’m sure someone could justify hating us in those moments. The problem when we let the sun go down on our anger is we lose sight of another’s humanity. Instead, we create this monster in our minds, making them out to be much worse than they really are.
Once we get to that point, then loving that person becomes nearly impossible. Now, I’m not saying what they did was okay, but we have to remember that others have moments of immaturity or battle other difficulties behind the scenes. We might not know the full picture, but we know they are human. We shouldn’t hold people to an impossible standard of perfection.
2. Forgive them
When He died on the cross, Jesus knew none of us would ever live perfectly. Since He died so everyone could be forgiven, who I am to say someone in my life doesn’t deserve forgiveness? We are told to forgive as we have been forgiven.
But here’s the challenge I have with forgiveness. I feel if I forgive my enemy then I’m condoning what they did. However, I’m learning more and more that forgiving someone isn’t saying what they did was okay. In fact, it’s not even letting them off the hook. Instead, I’m letting myself off the hook so I can experience the internal peace God wants for all of us, freeing me to walk in love towards the people I forgive.
3. Respond today
If you can get to the point where you want to put into action Jesus’s command of loving your enemy, do it sooner rather than later. It might help you more than you think. The feelings of hate, bitterness, and anger which consume your mind don’t have to control you anymore. Forgiveness is in your hands, though. You can’t wait to love and forgive them until they come and apologize to you. That day may never come. You have no control over how someone else responds, only how you respond. You might choose to move forward with them or without them, but you can’t move forward if you’re unable to love those people in your life. You have an opportunity to experience a newfound peace and display the grace of God in the lives of your enemies.
Who do you have the inability to love?
In the chaotic hallway that follows a normal Sunday service at my church, an elder I only knew by sight asked me, “Young lady, where do you work? Retail, huh?”
Slightly insulted by his assumption that because I was young I must be in retail, I readied my response. Shoulders back, armed with the confidence of enduring a four-year degree and gaining God’s favour, which had landed me a job before graduating, I calmly replied, “No, uncle, I work for the Ontario government.”
His silence was the my first of many pick your jaw up off the floor moments whenever I told someone where I worked. The validation was so satisfying. I basked in the glory of that moment and settled into the expectation that my amazing career path would silence my insecurities.
I was one of the few who didn’t have to stress over sending out job applications. I had secured the bag. Or so I thought. After two years of multiple renewed contracts, the chance of becoming a full-time staff looked promising. They needed me; no one else was trained in my role, which was extra job security. I’ll never forget the day it all crumbled. My manager seemed like she was avoiding me, but I was completely oblivious to what came next. “Jamila, can I see you in my office?” Inwardly I responded, Yes, let’s talk about me becoming a full-time staff member.
As I closed the door behind me, she said, “I am sorry, I meant to let you know sooner, but we won’t be able to extend your contract. Your last day with us will be on Friday.” Everything within me shook, but I was determined to keep my composure. “I wish you had told me sooner,” were the only words I could muster.
Huh? How could she betray me? She knew all along and said nothing! I sat at my desk as thoughts of rejection overwhelmed my mind. No! We’ve done this dance before. They say they can’t extend my contract, but they always do. I’m going to leave with my dignity intact, enjoy two weeks of needed unpaid vacation, and wait for the phone to ring. They need me. Two weeks later, I realized it was over. I had been let go. In the weeks that followed, I went through stages of grief. Who was I supposed to be without the security of a job to hide behind? I had forgotten who I was. I had laid down my life at the altar of a 9-to-5 job that stripped me of creativity and taught me to colour between the lines. Financially I knew I would be okay. But I had lost more than a job; I had lost my attached identity. That job had been a saviour in awkward conversations. It shielded me from instability and validated my insecurity of not being enough.
And that’s the issue: when anything outside of Christ becomes the anchor of our identities, prepare to ride the turbulent waves of uncertainty and disappointment.
I hid behind the assurance that the company needed me. But in the words of Uncle Mordecai, “Do not think that because you are in the king’s house you alone of all the Jews will escape. For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?” (Esther 4:13-14). These words jolted Esther back into perspective and they did the same for me. We all have been given time and a chance. It rains on both the just and unjust. Jesus does not exempt me from trial or being let go. However, an identity anchored in Christ will make me risk it all like Esther—even if that means losing the thing God gave.
We can rest securely, knowing that the one who gives is more important than the gifts He gives. It is this kind of reckless faith that will allow us to say with a smile, “The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord” (Job 1:21).
Who was I supposed to be without the security of a job to hide behind? I had forgotten who I was.