My soul, it is one thing to pray for patience with those who cross us, but you have asked for something far higher, you have asked to love, truly and genuinely, those who set themselves against you. This is not a prayer that springs up from the soil of nature. The old heart does not produce this fruit. This is a prayer the Holy Spirit has stirred within you, and it is a prayer after Christ’s own heart.
Do you think it strange that such a love feels beyond your reach? It is meant to be beyond your reach, so that you must look away from yourself entirely. You are asking for a stream that flows from no earthly spring. It rises from beneath the eternal throne. The natural man loves those who love him; that is common water, found in every village well. But to love an enemy, this is spiced wine from a better country. And here is your comfort: the very desire for it is proof that the Well-Beloved has been at work in your garden. He would not give you the thirst if He did not mean to supply the drink.
Think for a moment how this love first came to you. “We love him, because he first loved us.” And when did He love us? When we were enemies. When there was nothing lovely in us, no fragrant flower in that arid desert, God loved the world so greatly that He gave His only Son. He did not wait for our improvement. He did not stand off until we laid down our weapons. While we were yet rebels, Christ died for the ungodly. That same love, poured into your heart by the Holy Ghost, is the only love that can ever flow back out toward your enemies. You cannot pump it up by resolve; it must be shed abroad from above.
So do not despair because you find the feeling so faint. The Lord does not despise the honey because it comes with the comb. He knows the infirmity that mingles with our graces, and He accepts the desire of our hearts even when the execution limps. He gathers His myrrh with His spice; He takes our faltering prayers and our groaning attempts at forgiveness, and He makes holy mixtures out of them. When you look at the one who has wronged you and feel the old bitterness rise, do not conclude that you have no love at all. The very turning of your will toward Christ in this matter, the lifting of your heart and saying, “Lord, I would love them,” is the work of His own hand. And what He begins, He finishes.
Here is a picture for you to carry into the week. You know how a mother, when her child has been unkind, does not wait for the child to come back with pretty speeches. She goes about the house doing what needs to be done, preparing a meal, laying out clean clothes, making the bed soft and warm. Her love does not pause for a treaty; it acts. So our Lord, when He would draw us to Himself, did not lay down conditions. He stooped; He washed feet; He spread a table in the presence of our enmity. He drew us with cords of a man, with bands of love. When you ask Him to give you genuine love for your enemies, do you know what He will do? He will not simply drop a warm feeling into your chest like a sweet lozenge. He will teach you to pray for them by name, and as you form their names on your lips the ice will begin to crack. He will show you the thousand little kindnesses you can do in secret, no great parade of reconciliation at first, perhaps, but small, hidden acts that loosen the yoke on another’s jaw and lay meat before them. And as you do those things, love will follow, treading softly behind obedience, and before you know it your heart will have changed its tune.
Do not torment yourself by measuring the distance between your love and His. Stand at the bottom of the ladder and put your foot on the lowest rung. The lowest rung is simply this: you have a Saviour who loved His enemies unto death, and you are united to Him. The sap that flows in the Vine flows also in the branch. As you abide in Him, His own love, the very love that refused to call down fire on Samaria, the very love that said, “Father, forgive them”, will begin, in ways you can hardly trace, to sweeten your own spirit. It will not thunder from Sinai; it will distil like dew. It will come, not as a conqueror battering down the gates, but as a friend entering by a quiet door.
May the Lord Jesus, who loved you when you were still arrayed against Him, so fill you with the sense of that immeasurable affection that you shall find your grudges dissolving like morning frost in the sun. May He make you tender without making you weak, forgiving without excusing sin, and genuinely warm toward those from whom you naturally recoil. And when the enemy in your path seems impossible to love, may you hear a voice behind you saying, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness.”
Go now in peace, beloved. The love you seek is not far off; it is in Christ, and Christ is in you.
Father, look upon this dear soul who has asked for what only You can give. Let the love of Jesus so flood the inner chambers that every shadow of resentment is washed away. Teach these hands to be gentle, these lips to bless, and this heart to beat in time with the great heart of the Saviour who prayed for His murderers. Keep them from striving after a counterfeit love, and give them that genuine, patient, hoping, enduring charity that comes down from above. In Jesus Christ’s name. Amen.