Loving your enemies means loving your enemies

3 minute read

As someone who largely grew up in the Pacific Northwest, I have been formed by my schools, newspapers, books, and public conversations to value admirable things like equality, equity, racial justice, equal opportunity, and inclusivity.

As someone who grew up Christian, I have been formed by the Scriptures, my family, my church, and my community to value admirable things like mercy, compassion, care for the widow and orphan, support for the poor, care for the foreigner, and a heart for justice.

It’s hard for me to imagine a world where I wouldn’t want countries to welcome refugees, governments to care for their sick and poor, and justice for those who have been hurt. I want justice for George Floyd and his family, I want mass shooters to be held accountable, and I want a world where a global superpower doesn’t invade and occupy Ukraine.

All of this makes the story of the Centurion’s faith one of the hardest for me to understand.

In this story, Jesus is siding with the colonizer, the invader, the one with the gun, the one unholding the unjust gavel.

What happened to fighting oppression?

For context, during the this time, Israel was occupied by Rome. The Israelites had to pay exorbitant taxes, submit to the authority of Rome, and could be killed by any Roman at any time without a hope for justice. How could this possibly be a fulfillment of Israel’s covenant? They had no rights, no autonomy, and barely enough to go around.

This was the world they lived in. This was the world they prayed to be saved from, the world they cried out to God to fix for them. And Jesus walked in, and did the opposite.

The theme we are exploring right now is how Jesus’ unexpected friendship change the way we love.

Jesus’ friendship with the Roman centurion is unexpected in two ways:

A military leader approached a man of the country he was occupying AND put himself under Jesus’ authority.
And Jesus didn’t reject him. In fact, He praised him for his faith.

As a member of the crowd watching, I would have been furious and confused at this basic-level kind of betrayal.

What kind of savior, or even prophet or teacher, was Jesus to both condone a field captain of the military and condemn us for our “lack of faith”?

As a twenty-something college student, I read that and try to understand how Jesus could be a champion for the poor and the outcast and downtrodden, and be friends with the person who honestly looks like he’s most of the problem. How can both of those things happen at the same time?

Honestly, I’m still not sure. Jesus continues to surprise me by turning everything I know on its head, again. The Holy Spirit is moving in ways that are completely foreign to me, in ways that go against what I think is right.

I really, really don’t want to be discipled by my political enemies.

In the Pacific Northwest, tolerance is one of the highest goods. But here Jesus shows us that it’s not enough to be only tolerant. He crosses the firmest of boundaries, social and moral, and becomes friends with people in ways that make us uncomfortable, angry, and confused. More than that actually, it’s infuriating. If I was in the crowd that day, I would have been all those things and more. If I were a Jewish woman, I’d wonder why this Jewish teacher just praise the man who might’ve killed my uncle? Raided my cousin’s business? Took everything my family had?

I actually don’t want the Holy Spirit to disciple me with my enemies. I don’t want to have to eat with people I fundamentally, drastically disagree with. Not in the “oh I don’t like that kind of food” way, but the “wow, the choices you’ve made go against everything I believe is right” kind of way.

Spring Church is a community where that kind of mind-bending, blood-boiling discipleship can happen.

Uncommon friendship isn’t something that’s a little uncomfortable once a week, it’s a world-altering way of moving through life with Jesus.

Practically, it means not blocking people you find offensive, talking with people different than you, being friends across the political spectrum, and acknowledging that the way you see the world isn’t the only way to do so.

As an early 20’s fairly liberal college student, that’s really hard. I’d love nothing more than to climb onto a hill, shout my opinion, and then sit down on a picnic blanket with only people who agree with me. I could wrap that blanket of smug security around me, and live in comfort just like that.

But as a Christian, I don’t get to do that. Jesus is going to march in, love the people on the other hills, and demand I do the same.

This story the centurion’s servant changes the way I love in two ways:

I won’t stop striving for justice, but I will be quicker to listen and slower to pass judgment.
And I will continue to marvel at a God who reminds me that He is bigger than my hurts, faults, and all the injustice in the world.

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