We’re in the midst of Lent (as I write this) and am following my free Lenten Prayer Journal and Lenten devotions on Substack. Today’s scripture seems like a strange fit for Lent, but it’s the perfect verse once we take a deeper look at it.
Luke 6:27-28 NKJV tells us, “But I say to you who hear: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, and pray for those who spitefully use you.” How does this verse hit you? I’m wondering if God’s asking us for something tougher than our usual practice of somewhat tolerating or ignoring our enemies. Loving our enemies? That’s probably not a sacrifice you’ve penciled into your Lenten plan, but maybe it’s one each of us needs.
Love Your Enemies--Really?
I don’t know about you, but this passage hits me like a brick. Jesus is preaching the Sermon on Plain (Luke 6:20-49), right after blessing the poor and calling out the comfortable. It’s not an easy, warm read. It’s core to His kingdom. Love your enemies? Do good when they hate you? What comes to mind?
Do you think of the coworker who stabbed you in the back last year, the friend who ditched you when you needed them, the family member whose snide remark still rankles? What do you do when this happens? Do you shut down, stew, or them facing a similar situation?
If so, you’re human—we’re all human and our natural inclination is to avoid, shut down, ignore those who hurt us. But Jesus says, “No—love them. Do good to them. Bless them.” We may become struck with shock, guilt, and other unpleasant emotions. How are we supposed to love those who hurt us so deeply? We need to look to Jesus’ example.
Jesus’ Radical Call
Jesus’ call isn’t a gentle suggestion—it’s a seismic shift. He speaks these words in His Sermon on the Plain, just after blessing the poor and hungry and warning those who rest in their abundance (Luke 6:20-26). The context matters: He’s unveiling a kingdom where power and privilege do not dictate worth, where love defies logic.
In His Time, this upended a culture steeped in retribution and honor. Back then, the prevailing code of justice, rooted in the Old Testament, was “eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot...”. (Exodus 21:24). But Jesus Himself reframes it elsewhere saying, “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I tell you not to resist an evil person. But whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to him also.” (Matthew 5:38-39 NKJV).
Jesus’ teaching is a radical pivot—moving from retribution to restoration. In a culture where an eye demanded an eye, His words were revolutionary. Today, it confronts our natural impulses. Our instinct is to retreat, protect ourselves with silence or justified anger. These are human instincts. Yet, Jesus demands more: love, action, blessing, and prayer. We may feel like protesting by saying, “Surely not now, Lord.” But His call doesn’t bend to our convenience.
Sacrifice Redefined in Lent
Lent has always been about sacrifice, a season to strip away what distracts us from God. Whatever you’ve sacrificed in this season—sweets, late night TV—may help you feel a quiet growth that comes with giving things up for the Lord. But what if the sacrifice God seeks this year isn’t about what you give up, but what you offer? Think about that for a moment.
To love an enemy requires more than abstaining from resentment. It’s an active step into the fray, a choice to do good when every fiber of our being wants to resist. This feels profoundly Lenten—it’s a fast from the comfort of bitterness, a surrender of our right to hold a grudge. It’s not passive endurance; it’s a deliberate act of the will. Yet that’s the point—sacrifice isn’t meant to be easy. It’s meant to refine us, to prepare us for something greater, as James says, “My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.” (James 1:2-4 NKJV)
Care for Your Enemy
We can’t escape the cross when we think of praying for those who abuse us. Jesus didn’t just sacrifice His life—He gave it for those who despised Him. As they mocked and crucified Him, Jesus prayed, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.” (Luke 23:34 NKJV) That wasn’t a show of weakness on Christ’s part; it was strength beyond comprehension. He showed a love that absorbed hatred and returned grace.
Lent leads us to Easter, to the resurrection that declares victory over every wound. If we’re to embody that hope, we must start here, in the messy reality of loving those we’d rather dismiss. Scripture echoes this elsewhere—Romans 12:20 NKJV urges, “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him a drink; for in so doing you will heap coals of fire on his head.” This is not a theoretical saying. It’s practical, tangible, and costly. Jesus lived it, and Lent calls us to follow even when our bodies and spirits balk.
A Personal Reckoning
Many years ago, someone I trusted, someone very close to me, betrayed me and abused me emotionally and physically. Not only that, but people I thought were my friends spread rumors about me. They couldn’t believe this person had hurt me so badly. Instead, it was easier to believe I was the “bad person.”
Deep anger became my companion. I developed a prickly personality to avoid being hurt again. Needless to say, I was not an easy or pleasant person to be around and I carried a weight of hurt, anger, and pain that spiritually weighed me down. I could have kept walking in this way—my hurt was definitely warranted.
Instead, I began praying for all those who had hurt me, especially my betrayer and abuser. The process wasn’t easy by any means. It was like removing manner layers of onion. Each layer was painful, but it was necessary to give the hurt and pain to the Lord. This process took years. I kept praying for those who had hurt me. Over time, a release started to come with the process and prayers.
The process didn’t erase the past, but it broke something open in me—a release, a handing over of the wound to God. It’s this that Jesus spoke of when He told us to be good to those who abuse us. This is not a forced affection, but freedom from the weight pain, hurt, and anger that I carried for too long.
A Lenten Challenge for Us
So, here’s where this post has landed—for you and myself: let’s make this one of our Lenten sacrifices. Choose one person—not a faceless “enemy,” but someone specific who’s left a mark. Though they hurt you in the past, do something good for them. It’s doesn’t need to be elaborate. Pray for their peace and well-being each morning. Start right where you are and pray for this person throughout Lent.
The Cost and the Promise
I know this is no light undertaking. Sacrifice demands something of us—time, energy, and pride. This is no ordinary task. To love in this way, when we’d rather withdraw, feels like too much. But Lent isn’t about feeling comfortable; it’s about what transforms us.
Easter is ahead with the promise that hatred doesn’t win, that grace can redeem what’s broken. Like, you, I’m still learning this—there are some moments when I’d rather curse than bless. But we must try. We do this by taking one step at a time, trusting God to work where we falter. Will you join me?
This Lent, let’s offer not just what we can spare (that expensive coffee habit, our favorite chocolate, or constant doomscrolling), but what we grip tightly.
Let’s love, against the grain, and see how God shapes us through it and prepares us for the glory to come!
Share how God’s working in you this Lent in the comments below!
God bless,
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