Why I Pray for My Enemies

 

Introduction

The world is a hateful place.  Who can deny it?  As Paul says,

For we ourselves were once foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures, passing our days in malice and envy, hated by others and hating one another (Titus 3.3, ESV).

Quite possibly, this is what Paul meant in Ephesians 2.3 when he described the pre-Christian life as a time when we were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind.[1]

In Titus, Paul contrasts our hatred of others to the goodness and lovingkindness of God our Saviour (Titus 3.4), and in Ephesians our wrath as sons of disobedience following the prince of the power of the air contrast with God’s mercy and love (Ephesians 2.4).  To pray for our enemies is to move from malice, envy, hatred, and wrath to God’s goodness, lovingkindness, mercy, and love.

A Complete Ethic

Jesus prayed from the cross for His enemies: 'Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do' (Luke 23.34).  This was a culmination of His ministry of God's forgiveness and mercy.  He also told His followers to pray for their enemies.  He said,

43 “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ 44 But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, 45 so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. 46 For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? 47 And if you greet only your brothers, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? 48 You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect (Matthew 5.43-48).

Jesus provides us with several reasons to pray for our enemies.  They produce a ‘complete’ ethic in regard to the ‘other’.  A complete ethic will address issues that cover what a (1) character (2) does (3) toward certain goals (consequences).  A person’s character is defined by his virtues and vices.  A person’s moral actions are either good or bad.  A person’s goals are either right or wrong, and actions have consequences (rewards and punishments).

Praying for Our Enemies

This applies to what Jesus says about praying for our enemies.  First, the specific moral act in view is prayer, but it is an example of a more general call to do good to all  The disciples are to pray for all, including their enemies, even as God causes the sun to rise on both the evil and the good and sends rain on the just and unjust (vv. 45b).  Second, our doing good and God’s doing good to all is both also a character ethic: the disciples are to be like God the Father (vv. 45a, 48).  Third, it is a consequentialist ethic: what reward do people have from God if they merely love those who love them and only greet their brothers (vv. 46-47)? These three dimensions of a complete ethic cover the ethical spectrum of character, actions, and goals.  They are bound together not only in forming a complete ethic but also in imitation of God.  By imitating God’s character, actions, and goals, I am formed increasingly into His likeness.

Our character, actions, and goals define one another.  Depending on the goals that I set, my actions will be of one sort or another.  Equally, my character determines what sort of goals I set and what actions follow.  Yet my repeated actions of one sort produce habits, which produce character (as Aristotle taught in his Nichomachean Ethics).  This works negatively, when my bad actions produce vices, or positively, when my good actions produce virtues of character.  Once the actions produce a character, I may be said to have a ‘disposition’ of a certain sort.  Jesus speaks of this in terms of ‘love’ and ‘hate’ (Matthew 5.43).  Love is not a feeling toward or an affirmation or acceptance of another; it is first and foremost a disposition that evokes certain acts rather than others, like prayer for an enemy.  Before I may be said to have a loving disposition, I may begin by engaging in acts like prayer for my enemies.

To act contrary to nature by praying for my enemy is a difficult challenge.  Jesus acknowledges this, saying that loving those who love you is something even (sinful, wicked, unjust) tax collectors do (v. 46).  The worst Nazis had people who loved them and whom they loved.  To love someone who loves you is not an ethical act.  Perhaps the most difficult person to love is someone closest to you.  The Jews struggled to love their Samaritan neighbours in Jesus’ day (cf. the Parable of the Good Samaritan, Luke 10.25-37).  Sometimes, our enemies are people who claim to be Christians and are not, or they are Christians but very difficult persons for one reason or another.  Sometimes our enemies are in our own household.  Those who are closest can be our most difficult enemies.

Character is not only an individualistic matter; it is also communal.  This is demonstrable as we think a little more about ‘our’ enemies in Matthew 5.  People who ‘revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely’ (Matthew 5.11) are doing so against followers of Jesus.  Jesus says that they do these things against you ‘on my account’.  They hate the Christian community for being Christians, disciples of Christ.  Jesus is telling His disciples that they, as individuals, should pray for their enemies and that they, as a community, should be known for how they respond to their enemies.

Responding to a Culture of Hate

In the post-Christian society into which we have been thrown in just a few decades, the ‘enemy’ has come to be described differently.  The enemy is no longer the opponent of a centuries-old, Christian civilization that was established with great difficulty in pagan Europe and then the world beyond.  The ‘enemy’ in Western society is now the Christian.  The ‘enemy’ has been redefined in the Great Reversal of our time.  Christian care for the vulnerable is transformed into a concern for those dubbed ‘victims’.  Who, though, are these ‘victims’ in a post-Christian society?  They are now described by society as persons living against their biological genders instead of those living according to nature, women instead of men, women with unwanted pregnancies instead of the most vulnerable in every society—the unborn children, people of colour instead of all people—especially whites, any non-Christian instead of Christians, and the sexually perverse emerging from a so-called prudish society instead of the sexually pure ridiculed by fallen humanity.  Post-Christian society has invented an ethic that defines victims in such a way that Christians are hated.  We have more enemies--more enemies for whom to pray.

Not only has the enemy been redefined, but the way in which the enemy is engaged has changed as well.  Christians have followed an ethic of love that reaches out to the vulnerable in society, whereas post-Christian society has followed an ethic of hate that favours the ‘victims’ and cancels and destroys their assumed oppressors.  The key to the post-Christian ethic is that the world is defined in terms of tribal groups that fight each other.  A spirit of hatred has possessed Western culture.  People are born into their tribes, and the most hated tribe of all is the white, heterosexual, male who is a family-affirming Christian who honours women and marriage.

Jesus’ direction to His disciples is to pray for our enemies.  In this way, we can break out of this hate-affirming cycle in today’s culture.  Instead of tribal groups at war with one another, we are to recognise a creation ethic in which God makes the sun rise and the rain fall on everyone alike.  Some confused Christians have turned this ethic of love toward the enemy into an ethic of affirming our enemies, either by becoming haters of ourselves (the self-loathing of white males in society, for example, or the embarrassed Church apologizing for evangelizing Africa) or by preaching a doctrine of ‘inclusion’ that removes the notion of sin altogether (as in the Church blessing homosexual unions).  Jesus’ ethic of love towards the enemy, however, continues to identify people as good and evil, just and unjust.  The Christian response is to pray for enemies, not to join them or affirm them.

A Creation and Redemption Ethic

On this point, when Christians pray for those in authority (1 Timothy 2.1-7), it is not because they are supporters of what the authorities are doing.  They recognise that it is more likely than not that those in authority are self-serving, abusive, and unjust.  Christians know that the world is a sinful place.  The reason for praying for those in authority is so that Christians may ‘lead a peaceful and quiet life, godly and dignified in every way’ (v. 2).  Prayers for government in church services are, sadly, left as generic prayers, which allows the government to suppose that Christians have their back and are their supporters.  Rather, Christians are to pray that these abusive persons with power would somehow—by God’s grace—act justly despite themselves. 

Paul adds the same reasoning that Jesus gives to pray for our enemies.  He says that God our Savior ‘desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.  For there is one God, and there is one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, who gave himself as a ransom for all’ (1 Timothy 2.4).  That is, the Christian creation ethic and redemption ethic apply to all people, not some tribal element within humanity.  The goodness of creation is for all, and salvation is offered to all.  By praying for our enemies, we acknowledge that we were once God’s enemies ourselves (Ephesians 2.3), and we proffer in prayer the same offer of salvation that we have received.

Therefore, praying for our enemies is an ethic that first imitates God in the good of creation for all and second in the good of Christ’s death for all.  Jesus’ very name was chosen because He would save His people from their sins (Matthew 1.22).  He did this by dying on the cross as a sacrifice once for all.  As Peter wrote,

For Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, that he might bring us to God (1 Peter 3.18a).

This forgiveness of sins through Jesus Christ is a forgiveness that His followers are to extend to others in like manner.  Jesus says, ‘For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you’ (Matthew 6.14).  The Christian ethic of prayer for one’s enemies is an expression of the heart of the Gospel: that we are forgiven sinners through the sacrificial death of Jesus Christ.  In this, we follow Jesus to the cross.

Contrast, for example, the religion of Islam.  Islam denies that Jesus died on the cross and therefore that He died for our sins.  The incarnate Christ is reduced to a mere prophet in Islam, thus removing God to the stratosphere and reducing him to an unpredictable (even mercy is unpredictable) judge.  The religion of submission (of ‘peace’ through an oppressive submission, if you like) lives in constant jihad against its enemies.  Or, contrast the West’s new, post-Christian cancel culture.  Those associated with the wrong tribe are to be punished, silenced, and even incarcerated.  What the West’s newly formed, Marxist culture has in common with Islam is its tribalism working by means of oppression and suppression, not grace and forgiveness.

An Eschatological Ethic and Gospel Witness

As a consequentialist, ethic, praying for our enemies is a way of repaying ‘no one evil for evil’ and of never avenging ourselves but leaving it to God’s wrath (Romans 12.17-19).  God will, indeed, bring justice—He is just and brings His justice in due time (12.19).  Knowing that God will do so gives us the space to show kindness even toward our enemies.  That is a space that the Gospel occupies.  As Paul says, quoting Proverbs 25.21-22, ‘if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head’ (12.20).  The moral consequence we seek is to shame and thereby transform the enemy, not inflict final punishment on him ourselves.  Thus, Paul adds, ‘Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good’ (12.21).

Finally, praying for our enemies is a way of using an action ethic to form our character.  Our natural and just response to our enemies is to fight and conquer them.  Even so, can replace that response with prayer for them.  When we respond with rage towards an enemy, we may well act justly, but what sort of character is formed in us as we do so?  The danger we face is to become angry, hateful, and revengeful.  Jesus’ warning is that we should not have one part of our character that is loving towards our friends and another part of our character that is angry and vengeful towards our enemies.  By praying for our enemies, we extend our character of love not only towards our friends but also towards our enemies in an act of love that has the loving goal that they might find the same salvation and transformation that we, once enemies of God, have found in Christ.  To pray for our enemies is a moral act of the Gospel.

Conclusion

The simple act of bowing in prayer for an enemy is unique to Christianity.  It is a complete ethic in that it engages character, acts, and goals.  It is creational, redemptive, eschatological, and evangelistic.  It is a response in kind to the mercy that we, once enemies of God, have received.  It is a transforming initiative in ourselves, a witness to others of God’s character and grace, and a way to move from wrath and hate to grace, mercy, and love.  As the Great Reversal in our culture progresses and sees the Christian as its enemy, we increasingly need to appreciate the importance of praying for our enemies.



[1] The alternative is to take ‘children of wrath’ as objective: the object of God’s wrath.

The Parable of the Grand House

 

The disciples were enjoying a rest along the Windrush River on their journey from Monmouth to Oxford.  In Witney, one of the disciples had picked up a newspaper and was now reading headlines to the others.  ‘Well, this is rather humourous!’ he exclaimed.

‘What is it?’ asked another disciple.

‘Well, a major focus of this last General Synod of the Church of England has been to bring about reconciliation after all the divisions the revisionists have caused in trying to change the Church of England’s views on sex and marriage.’

‘Yes, we know that.’

‘And...,’ said the disciple, holding up his hand, ‘And so now everyone is supposed to ignore the fundamental differences over sexuality and marriage and get on with other business.  This ignoring the great division is being called "reconciliation."’

‘Get to the funny bit,’ shouted a disciple.

‘All right, all right.  So, at Synod, someone put forward a motion that the Synod acknowledge that there are some in the Church of England—that would be the Evangelicals, mostly—who do not and will not accept the blessings over same-sex unions.  The motion was voted on and lost.’

‘Is that the funny stuff?’ asked the same disciple.

‘Yes.  Don’t you get it?  The whole meeting was trying to promote reconciliation, but they refused to acknowledge that anybody was there who differed in their beliefs. Pretty rich, if you ask me.’

‘Where do you think this is headed?’ a disciple asked the master.

‘I think it is best to think about this with a parable,’ said the master.  ‘The Church of England is like a grand house of some renown in the country.  It was a period house dating back to the 1500s and situated on a beautiful estate—rather like the Duke of Winchester’s palace in Woodstock up the road.’

‘Blenheim Palace?’

‘Like that—remember, this is a parable, not history!’ replied the master.  ‘Well, after living together in a reasonably good marriage for a number of years, the Duke and the Duchess fell out with each other.  The Duke declared that he intended to have affairs with other women, but the Duchess would have none of it.  Neither wanted a divorce, not least because of the public scandal it would bring on the house.  The Duke pointed out that the aristocracy always had extra-marital arrangements and that the Duchess was imposing an unreasonable condition on their marriage.  The Duchess pointed out that marriage was a commitment to one another before God that disallowed such affairs.  So the Duchess asked to live separately in the east wing.  The Duke, however, stated that the house was known as the House of Unity in the land, and such an arrangement was, therefore, intolerable.  How could they invite friends for a dinner or party or ball and not both welcome them to the house?  The Duchess asked to be given sole custody of the children, but the Duke stated that they were also his children.  The Duchess suggested that they send the children to the boarding school that she had attended as a child, but the Duke said that Oxford had far better schools and would not send the children to an inferior place for so important a matter as education.  The Duchess stated that she intended to control her own finances, noting that she was capable of being financially independent and already brought in more income than the Duke.  To this, the Duke replied that the Duchess should not expect the estate to provide her benefits if she did not contribute to its financial affairs—including housing.’

‘My mum and dad had a similar sort of argument when I was a lad,’ said one of the disciples.

‘And what did they do?’ someone asked.

‘Well, they tried to divide the house down the middle.  Dad took a paintbrush and painted a line down the middle.  Trouble was, the kitchen was on one side and the loo on the other!’

The other disciples laughed.

‘So,’ asked the master, ‘What should our Duke and Duchess do?’

‘I reckon that the first problem is trying to live a lie,’ answered one of the disciples.  ‘They are no House of Unity, and they are not going to reconcile with one another.  They are nothing more than a grand old farce.’

‘I reckon that, if they stay together in the same house,’ said another disciple, ‘all people will talk about is that they are the House of Disagreement.  People will think nothing else about them except that that is the house where the Duke and Duchess do not agree.  People will stop attending those dinners and parties and balls because to enter that house would be to enter a place of pain and pretense.’

‘I reckon,’ said another disciple, ‘that the Duchess should submit to her husband.  If he wants to have extra-marital affairs, the Duchess can at least keep herself pure.  If she will not leave the marriage, then what else can she do?  Unless she leaves the marriage, she had better shut her mouth and make the best of things.  Nagging at her husband over his affairs will not solve anything and only make living together unbearable.’

‘So,’ asked another disciple, ‘in your parable, master, what did the Duke and the Duchess do?’

‘Well,’ he replied, ‘They tried everything.  Nothing worked, of course, because the situation was untenable in the first place.  People did stop coming to their home.  Their charity work suffered.  The children grew up and simply left, not interested in returning even for Christmas.  The house suffered from a lack of staff as few were willing to work there.  People who passed by whispered and shook their heads.’

‘That is a very depressing parable,’ said a disciple.  ‘Is that it?’

‘Not quite,’ said the master.  ‘One day, the King came to the Duke’s and Duchess’s palace.  They put on the best entertainment, though some of the singers and actors were a bit lewd, served a splendid meal on the finest china, though the main dish lacked flavour and was cold, and attempted to provide stimulating conversation with a meagre amount of guests whom they had to pay to come.  Looking around, the King asked, “Where are those children I recall seeing on my last visit?”  “Sadly,” the Duchess replied, “they are lost to us.  We have not seen them for several years.”  “And who will inherit the estate?” asked the King.  “We have cut them out of the inheritance,” replied the Duke.  “We have decided to use up our resources on ourselves.”

When the king departed, he took a last look at what was in his memory one of the great estates of England.  He shook his head.  “So sad,” he said.  As he passed the gate, he saw a shadowy figure in the trees.  “Stop,” he said.  “Bring that man here.”  The man was brought before the King.  He had a long beard and wore a robe and sandals.  “Who are you?” asked the king.  “I am the once and future owner of this estate,” he replied.  “I owned this land before this family ever gained possession of it, and when they are gone I shall own it again.  I have waited here for several hundred years, but my return is imminent.”’

‘Is that the end of the parable?’ asked a disciple.

‘Seems more like an allegory,’ commented another disciple.

‘An extended metaphor with several points of comparison and multiple meanings,’ said a third.

‘Who was the shadowy figure?’ At least one disciple kept following the story and was not distracted by questions of its formal elements.

‘A Druid, I’ll wager,’ said another.

‘Or a Muslim,’ suggested another.

‘Does it matter?’ asked the master.  ‘What matters is that a house divided cannot stand.’

'So,' said a disciple, 'the Duchess should just submit?'

'Does it matter?' asked the master.  'No matter how you play this out, the house will not stand.'

'But,' protested a disciple, 'Surely there is a solution.'

'Not for this house,' said the master.  'There are, however, other grand houses where love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control are known and celebrated.'

The Second Week of Advent: Preparing for the peace of God

[An Advent Homily] The second Sunday in Advent carries the theme, ‘preparation for the peace of God’.   That peace comes with the birth of C...

Popular Posts