No Enemy Lines

“I hate you.” Three words that we do not expect to hear from a Christian and certainly not in church, which is why we use other words to cover them up.  

Because it doesn’t sound good. It’s not a good look for those who profess to be in relationship with the God of love.

So, we say, “I don’t hate anyone. No, I just dislike them strongly, wish I had never met them and would be glad if I never saw them again.  

No, I don’t hate anyone. I just can’t be in the same room with them, have to bite my tongue when they come around and can’t think of one nice thing to say about them.  

No, I don’t hate anyone. Still, I won’t miss them when they’re gone, won’t sing a sad song because I am better off without them. 

Sure, I wish they were never born and won’t shed a tear when they die. But I wouldn’t say hate—because that is such a strong word.”  

Actually, hate is defined as “a passionate dislike” and is a common occurrence in our vocabulary. So, we may not hate the person, but we hate their guts. 

So intense is the dislike that we hate the very sight of them. For some relationships, there is a balance of devotion and hatred, described as a love-hate relationship.

And there are those we feel justified to hate. There are hatreds we love and people we love to hate. Villain and hero, they are in every story.  

Strangely, we can only see ourselves riding in on a white horse. We imagine ourselves saving the day and thus, loved by everyone.  

“I have no enemies,” we say. But even Jesus would not make this claim. The Pharisees were always looking for an opportunity to kill him. 

He was also run out of town on more than one occasion. So, while we imagine Jesus “knocking on the door of our hearts,” I can see doors being slammed in his face.  

Like those who lived during the civil rights movement and made claims that they walked with Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., we pretend that we would have been on the side of Jesus. But no one was at his side or would cross the line between crowd and crucifixion. Because though they hated to see a good man die, they loved their lives more.

All are seeking to save their own skin. There are no heroes here. But are they villains, enemies of Christ and his cross? If so, we don’t hate them.  

And why is that? Is it because we can identify with them? 

Perhaps it’s why Dietrich Bonhoeffer writes, “Jesus Christ lived in the midst of his enemies. At the end, all his disciples deserted him. On the Cross he was utterly alone, surrounded by evildoers and mockers. For this cause, he had come, to bring peace to the enemies of God.”

Martin Luther seemed to agree: “The (kin-dom) is to be in the midst of your enemies. And he who will not suffer this does not want to be of the (Kin-dom) of Christ; he wants to be among friends, to sit among roses and lilies, not with the bad people but the devout people. O you blasphemers and betrayers of Christ! If Christ had done what you are doing, who would ever have been spared?”

Additionally, G.K. Chesterton offers a sobering clarification: “The Bible tells us to love our neighbors, and also to love our enemies; probably because generally they are the same people.”  

While we draw hard lines to mark who we are for and against, Jesus didn’t cross anyone off his list. The story of Stephen and Saul is a fitting example of this. Stephen’s pleading hands and Saul’s bloody ones are both used by God in the Christian Testament.  

Stephen is the victim of mob violence. His last breath is shared with his enemies. He is punished violently after testifying of his faith.  

Instead of hallelujahs, they are hurling rocks. Stephen is no glass house, so the weight crushes his frame.  

Meanwhile, a known enemy of the early church is not far away. Saul is close enough to check the coats of those who are killing Stephen.  

They are breaking a sweat and throwing off the weight of their cloaks. They want to increase the precision of their aim at Stephen, so they take off their jackets. Their stones are literally breaking and crushing Stephen’s bones.  

The church’s first martyr, this is the cost of discipleship. But Saul will pay his own. He and Stephen are more alike than he knows.  

Stephen will close his eyes and Jesus will open Saul’s. Scales off, Saul will have a vision of his own of a “kin-dom” coming. And for all that Saul knew, “as to the law, a Pharisee,” I bet he never saw that coming (Philippians 3:5, NRSV). 

An unknown author reminds us of the distortion of distance, writing, “When he saw me from a far, he thought I was a monster and was very scared. When I got a little closer, he thought I was animal and was just very nervous. When we stood face to face, he relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief because he realized that I was his brother.”  

The invitation of Jesus is for us to come closer. Only then will we be able to see each other as next of kin and realize that there are no enemy lines.