Love My Enemies? Uffff.
What Jesus asks of us when outrage feels justified, and we’re not thrilled about it.
Opening
I need to confess something to you all. I’ve gotten into a really bad habit.
Each morning, my alarm goes off. I reach for my phone, turn the alarm off, and what do I do next? I go straight to the news. Not prayer. Not silence. Not Memes. The news.
And what do I see? Headline after headline after headline about my least favorite person doing something that makes my blood boil. I’ll leave it to your imagination who I might be referring to.
Before my feet ever hit the floor, my nervous system is already on fire. My jaw tightens. My shoulders creep up around my ears. I start rehearsing arguments in my head that I will never actually have with anyone who matters. It’s like spiritual road rage, except I’m still lying in bed.
The worst part is that a piece of me thinks I’m being responsible. Informed. Awake. As if starting the day angry is a sign of moral seriousness. As if outrage is a virtue.
By the time I finally put the phone down, I’m already carrying someone else’s poison into the rest of my day. And then, as if on schedule, the Gospel has the audacity to show up.
“Love your enemies.”
Uffff.
Not tolerate them. Not roll your eyes and move on. Not mute them and curate your peace. Love them. Pray for them. Do good to those who make your life, and the lives of people you love, harder than they need to be.
Some days, that teaching feels less like good news and more like a personal attack. I can see from the comments section of my TikTok page that I’m not at all alone.
Reflection
When Jesus tells us to love our enemies, he is not romanticizing abuse or excusing injustice. He is not asking us to pretend harm didn’t happen. He is naming something far more demanding, and far more freeing.
“You have heard it said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:43–44).
That teaching is spoken under occupation, under threat, in a violent world. Jesus knows exactly what enemies can do. This is not naïveté. It is defiance.
Here is the part we often miss. Loving your enemy is not primarily about their transformation. It is about protecting your own humanity. Hatred corrodes the vessel that carries it. Even justified anger, if left unchecked, begins to shrink our imagination and harden our hearts.
I say this as someone who knows how energizing righteous anger can feel. There are days when it gives me clarity and purpose. But if I’m honest, it also steals my peace. It makes me brittle. It tempts me to reduce complex human beings into symbols of everything I fear or despise.
Jesus will not let us do that. Not because our enemies deserve mercy, but because we do.
“Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful” (Luke 6:36). Mercy is not weakness. Mercy is resistance against becoming what we oppose.
And then there is the Cross. “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34). That prayer is spoken in the middle of violence, not after repentance or accountability. That should unsettle us.
It certainly unsettles me.
Seeking Understanding Without Excusing Harm
Here is another hard truth we don’t like to sit with. Very often, the harm done to us is not as personal as it feels.
That does not mean it doesn’t hurt. It does not mean it doesn’t matter. And it certainly does not mean it should be tolerated.
But it does mean that sometimes what we experience as targeted malice is really someone else’s unresolved damage spilling outward.
Some modern neuroscientists and behavioral psychologists are beginning to suggest that our wills may not be quite as free as we like to imagine. We are shaped, deeply, by what we were shown, what we were denied, and what we had to survive. People are often products of their environment and upbringing in ways that run far deeper than conscious choice.
Some people did not grow up in loving homes. Some never saw healthy moral behavior modeled. Some were neglected, abandoned, abused, or taught that power and cruelty were the only ways to stay safe. Some live in fear, carry deep trauma, or struggle with a profound lack of self-worth.
None of this excuses combative or harmful behavior. Let me be clear about that.
But it can offer a path toward understanding, and sometimes understanding is the only soil in which love of enemy can grow.
When you begin to see an enemy not only as an antagonist, but as a wounded human acting out of scarcity, fear, or unhealed pain, something shifts. You still set boundaries. You still tell the truth. You still protect yourself. But now you also have something specific to pray for: healing.
And there is another invitation here.
If you were given a stable, loving upbringing, if you were shown care, accountability, and affection, then you have something to be deeply grateful for. Gratitude itself becomes a spiritual practice.
If you were not given those things, but somehow rose above them, imperfectly and painfully, then you have a place from which compassion can flow. You know how hard that climb is. You know what it costs.
Understanding does not minimize harm. It reframes it. It reminds us that evil is often less about monsters and more about brokenness left unattended.
Jesus never lets us forget that.
Five Spiritual Practices That Make This Possible
This teaching is hard. Jesus knows that. So here are some practices that do not pretend this is easy, but make it possible.
1. Pray the honest prayer you actually mean.
If you’re not into it right now, pray to the Father, “Please help me to love my enemies. I’m struggling with it, and I know it’s what you want.” God works with honesty, not polish.
2. Stop the spiritual gaslighting.
Loving your enemy does not require pretending the harm didn’t happen. Name the anger. Name the grief. Bring it into prayer instead of baptizing it as righteousness or burying it until it leaks out sideways.
3. Interrupt the outrage ritual.
If your day begins with doom-scrolling, you are catechizing your nervous system in hostility before you ever encounter God. Delay the news. Protect the morning. This is stewardship of the soul.
4. Pray for their liberation, not their punishment.
Instead of praying they get what they deserve, pray that whatever keeps them captive loosens its grip. Fear. Lies. Power. You are not excusing harm. You are refusing to let it shape you.
5. Practice loving the person in front of you.
Most enemies are abstractions. Counter that by practicing compassion with real people in your daily life. This retrains the heart to stay soft in a hard world.
Bonus Practice:
Be careful of sarcastic prayer or condescension dressed up in religious language. If your prayer leaves you feeling smug or superior, something has gone wrong. God would rather hear “I’m not there yet” than holy window dressing draped over a curse.
When the Enemy Is Personal
All of this becomes much harder when the enemy is not abstract but personal. Someone who actively antagonizes you. Someone who wants to get into your head, disrupt your peace, cost you sleep, and hijack your thoughts.
Loving your enemy does not mean letting them win that battle.
Often our personal antagonists want harm that resonates throughout the day. They want to live rent-free in our interior life. Loving your enemy in this case can mean denying them that advantage.
It can look like refusing to replay the conversation for the hundredth time. Choosing not to rehearse the perfect comeback. Setting a mental boundary and saying, You do not get to live in my soul.
This is discipline, not denial. St. Paul says, “Take every thought captive to obey Christ” (2 Corinthians 10:5). Not every thought deserves your attention, especially those planted by someone else’s cruelty.
Protection is not unfaithful. Jesus withdrew from hostile crowds. He set limits. You are allowed to create distance, disengage, document harm, and seek help when needed.
Loving your enemy often looks like refusing to let their sin define your soul. You protect yourself, tell the truth, seek justice, and entrust the rest to God.
That kind of love is quiet. Strong. And deeply Christian.
Closing Prayer
Merciful and faithful God,
you see how hard this teaching is for us.
You know the names we carry, the wounds that still ache,
the anger that feels earned and justified.
We confess that we would rather be right than be transformed.
We would rather cling to outrage than trust that love can still change us.
Meet us there.
Give us courage to name harm honestly,
wisdom to set boundaries without bitterness,
and grace to refuse the lie that hatred will save us.
For those we call enemies, loosen the grip of fear and lies.
Heal what has been broken, even when we cannot see how.
For ourselves, reclaim our interior lives as sacred space.
Free us from fixation and rumination.
Teach us to guard our hearts without hardening them.
Make us people of truth without contempt,
justice without vengeance,
and love without self-betrayal.
May we look more like Christ tomorrow than we do today.
Amen.
And now for your response!
How did this make you feel? Where do you find loving your enemy hardest right now, in your thoughts, your boundaries, or your prayer?
If this reflection resonated, please consider liking this post, restacking it so others can find it, and subscribing to Message from the Margins so we can keep walking this road together.
Wise words once again. What I find most hopefully is to focus on praying for the victims of the injustices that are happening. It helps me redirect and feel less powerless.
Wow, Father Rich, you have no idea how spot on timely this post is! We are going through something in our family and the love thy personal enemy spoke volumes about what is happening.
Obviously the love thy enemies that is occurring in our country and our world is also completely relevant but really, the timing on this couldn’t have happened at a better moment.
I will share this with Chris as he and I are facing this together. Thank you for your wisdom and spiritual guidance.