Walking With Christ

(Part 5 of 7)

Luke 23:34  And Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”  And they cast lots to divide his garments.(ESV)

There are words from the cross that almost everyone recognizes as extraordinary.  These are among them.

Jesus is being crucified.

Not remembered after the fact.  Not speaking years later when the pain has faded.  Not responding after an apology.  Not forgiving people who’ve come asking for mercy.

They’re killing Him.  And He prays for them.  “Father, forgive them.”

That should make us pause.

It usually does.

We admire the mercy.  We admire the restraint.  We admire the love.

We recognize something in Jesus that’s completely different from the ordinary human response to injury.

Most of us know what retaliation feels like.

Someone wounds us, and something in us wants them to hurt too.  Someone humiliates us, and we want them exposed.  Someone lies about us, and we want everyone to know the truth.  Someone attacks us, and we begin thinking about how to hit back.

Sometimes we do it openly.  Sometimes we do it quietly.

We withdraw.  We punish.  We gossip.  We rehearse the offense.  We imagine the argument we wish we could have.  We wait for the moment when the other person finally gets what they deserve.

Then we look at Jesus.

Nails.

Mockery.

Blood.

Humiliation.

And He prays:  “Father, forgive them.”

We pause.  Of course we do.

Then Jesus says:

Matthew 5:44  But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you,(ESV)

And somehow the pause disappears.

Read that again.

Love your enemies.  Pray for those who persecute you.

Not tolerate them.  Not simply avoid killing them.  Not merely refuse revenge.

Love them.  Pray for them.

The same thing we admire at the cross becomes far more uncomfortable when Jesus turns it into a command.

That may reveal something about us.

We’re often much more comfortable celebrating the character of Christ than imitating it.

We love stories of radical forgiveness.  We’re moved by mercy.  We’re inspired by grace.

We just prefer them when someone else is the one being asked to give them.

The cross gives us a beautiful picture.  Matthew 5 gives us an assignment.

That changes the emotional temperature pretty quickly.  Because enemies aren’t theoretical.

The actual enemy has a face.  A name.  A history.

They may have lied about you.  Betrayed you.  Humiliated you.  Abandoned you.  Cheated you.  Used you.  Hurt someone you love.

They may still believe they were right.  They may never apologize.

Jesus doesn’t pretend any of that’s easy.

He simply refuses to make hatred the Christian answer.

That doesn’t mean pretending evil is good.

It doesn’t mean refusing justice.  It doesn’t mean remaining in danger.  It doesn’t mean trusting someone who’s proven untrustworthy.  It doesn’t mean reconciliation is always immediately possible.

Love isn’t the same thing as access.  Forgiveness isn’t the same thing as restored trust.  Mercy isn’t the same thing as abandoning wisdom.  But none of those distinctions erase the command.

Love your enemies.  Pray for those who persecute you.

That prayer may begin very small.

“Lord, deal with them rightly.”

“Lord, bring them to repentance.”

“Lord, protect others from the harm they cause.”

“Lord, don’t let bitterness make me become like the thing I hate.”

“Lord, teach me to want their redemption more than their destruction.”

That last one is difficult.  It should be.

Jesus didn’t come merely to defeat enemies.  He came to turn enemies into sons and daughters.

Paul says that while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of His Son.

That means every Christian is someone who has personally benefited from God loving an enemy.

That should complicate our hatred.

We weren‘t reconciled because we’d already become lovable.  We were reconciled through Christ.

Grace came first.

That doesn’t mean every human relationship will be restored.  It does mean Christians can’t treat hatred as a virtue.

We can’t bless God while secretly hoping someone created in His image is destroyed.

We can’t admire Jesus praying for His enemies while refusing even to bring ours before God.

The command exposes us.  Maybe that’s why we skim.

Luke 23 allows us to stand at the foot of the cross and marvel at Jesus.

Matthew 5 makes us stand beside Him.  That’s harder.

We can say:  “Look how merciful He is.”

Jesus says:  “Follow Me.”

We can say:  “Look how much He loves His enemies.”

Jesus says:  “Love yours.”

We can say:  “Look how He prayed for the people hurting Him.”

Jesus says:  “Pray for the people hurting you.”

The cross isn’t only something to admire.  It’s also something that forms us.

That doesn’t happen quickly.

Hatred can be deep.  Wounds can be real.  Forgiveness can take time.  Prayer may begin through clenched teeth.  But the direction still matters.

Toward Christ.

Toward mercy.

Toward freedom from revenge.

Toward a heart that no longer needs the enemy to suffer in order to be at peace.

That’s what makes Luke 23:34 so beautiful.  And Matthew 5:44 so uncomfortable.

The first shows us Jesus doing it.  The second reminds us that He meant for us to follow.

So pause at the cross.

Marvel at the mercy.  Let the words hit you.  “Father, forgive them.”

Then turn to Matthew 5.

Don’t skim.

Don’t explain the command away before it’s had a chance to confront you.

Read it slowly.

Love your enemies.

Pray for those who persecute you.

Now ask the uncomfortable question:  Who came to mind?

Start there.

Pause there.