That a question I've found myself asking recently, as my move to Fort Collins approaches. I am not the kind of guy who has a lot of enemies. I keep short accounts. I avoid conflict wherever I can. I am a nice guy. It is, in fact, my weakness. Often I am too nice. Often I bend over backwards to keep everything clear and calm for others to the point of putting too much strain on myself. It's a common curse--the plight of the perfectionist/pleaser first-born personality--, one I'm slowly learning to deal with, learning point by point how to be good rather than nice.
So I never thought I would have an enemy, never thought I would need to consider the question before me now. I didn't think Christians were supposed to have enemies, not considering Christ to have enemies either, not really. What Bible was I reading, anyway? The one I'm looking at now says that the world is going to hate me if I belong to Christ, that it persecuted Him and that I can expect similar treatment (John 15:19-21).
I never expected the enemy I have. I never expected my enemy would be another Christian, a person of good report that I knew well. I never expected the conflict that divided us would be completely illusory: the imaginatively-feared acting out of desires I do not, in fact, possess. I never expected that all my attempts to make peace by any means on any terms would not only go unanswered but actually be called part of the problem--did you know trying to have any form of communication with someone who has said she is your friend (much less proposing ways to resolve a conflict she has announced is bothering her) qualifies as harassment? I didn't. I still don't know what dictionary that definition comes from, since legally that's nowhere near the definition. But to my enemy that doesn't seem to matter: though I have given every opportunity for peace (in more than one sense: not only have I exhausted my every option to resolve this conflict civilly now, but in the past every time there has been conflict in the relationship, I have always been the one to make the first move toward peace--which makes me wonder why I put up with this person for so long or why she has so pristine a reputation), she desires war. I still desire peace, but with all other options exhausted, I think the old Latin maxim applies: Si vis pacem, para bellum--If you desire peace, prepare for war.
I have an enemy and I have a war, whether I desire one or not. It is not, blessedly, a shooting war, not yet, but a cold war is no less dangerous and savage a conflict in reality. In history, the Cold War between the USA and the USSR gave birth to several shooting wars and brought our species (by many accounts) to the very brink of nuclear self-annihilation. For lack of gunfire, it was no less fierce.
I could fight this war with no rules or, as my enemy has apparently chosen to do, make up rules as I go along so I may declare my actions "good" in every respect. Given the enormous disparity in power between the two of us (something my enemy seems totally unaware of), my options for waging this war successfully are very broad indeed.
But I do not want to just win this war. I have more important concerns. My chiefest concern is my relationship with God, my love and obedience to Him. So it is not enough to fight to win, I must fight good and right--win, lose, or draw.
Thus the question: what would Jesus do with an enemy?
To start with, Jesus had enemies, mainly the Pharisees and other religious elite. I am not in sin just because someone has picked a fight with me. Second, Jesus loved His enemies and admonishes us to love ours. He was always ready to make peace with them and show love for them. He was willing to meet with Nicodemus in the middle of the night and answer the questions of an honest seeker. I also am and must continue to be always open for peace. If I cease to be, then my enemy has succeeded in what appears to be her primary objective--to generate hatred in the place of the love that ought to be between all Christians--and has therefore won, whatever becomes of her thereafter.
Third, Jesus was not afraid to fire the first shot in a cold war. He spoke out against his enemies. He saw that what they were doing in the name of good was, in fact, evil, and He did not hesitate to say so. He did not pull any punches either. He used biting sarcastic wit, He called names, He publicly derided His enemies, and did not hesitate to show the world what they really looked like under their finely decorated robes. The only thing I can think of that He didn't do was He didn't specifically name names and acts, though--being God's Son--He very well could have.
I must also speak out. What my enemy has done is wrong. It is un-Christian. In point of fact, it is one of the only things repeatedly named in the Bible as un-Christian, as an explicit mark of someone who does not know God, someone who is a liar if they say they do know God (1 John 4:20). It is this: an absolute failure to love a fellow Christian, and an insistence on hating him. But this person walks about with the finely decorated robes of a respected Christian and attempts to pull them over this as well, repeatedly declaring their failures to even be civil acts of righteousness. How can I stand idly by and let this become the accepted standard? Is it not well said that all that is necessary for evil to win in our world is for good men to do nothing? I will not do nothing: I will speak out--and while I see no need to name this person publicly, I will not pull my punches either.
Finally, Jesus was not afraid of taking direct action, where necessary. On at least one occasion when it came time to clear the temple, Christ even committed acts of deliberate, premeditated violence: carefully braiding a whip from cords and then using it to drive crooked businessmen from the temple courts, where they were robbing worshipers. Yet even in this He showed restraint. He could have called twelve legions of angels to destroy the world at that very moment, or at the very least kill all the moneychangers out of hand--He fightened them away instead with a mere leather whip. I don't expect to be braiding any whips, but I should be prepared to take action as if necessary. There exists the possibility that my enemy will decide that Fort Collins or Summitview is not big enough for both of us. If that gauntlet is thrown down, I must and will be prepared to force her to back down, but do so with restraint. There was a time when she, in conjunction with others, misused church discipline on a small scale against me. Remembering that power imbalance I mentioned earlier, I now have the connections, the evidence, and the strength of will to correctly use it on a large scale against her, and even an unsuccessful attempt to do so could cause untold damage to the network on which she is heavily dependent (a network which, thanks in part to her previous attacks, I have grown to be independent of). But remembering restraint, I must only apply the amount of force necessary to convince her to back down--a delicate balance to be sure, one that, if it becomes necessary, will require a lot of prayer on my part. I'll cross that bridge when or if I reach it. For now, I will speak out.
So I never thought I would have an enemy, never thought I would need to consider the question before me now. I didn't think Christians were supposed to have enemies, not considering Christ to have enemies either, not really. What Bible was I reading, anyway? The one I'm looking at now says that the world is going to hate me if I belong to Christ, that it persecuted Him and that I can expect similar treatment (John 15:19-21).
I never expected the enemy I have. I never expected my enemy would be another Christian, a person of good report that I knew well. I never expected the conflict that divided us would be completely illusory: the imaginatively-feared acting out of desires I do not, in fact, possess. I never expected that all my attempts to make peace by any means on any terms would not only go unanswered but actually be called part of the problem--did you know trying to have any form of communication with someone who has said she is your friend (much less proposing ways to resolve a conflict she has announced is bothering her) qualifies as harassment? I didn't. I still don't know what dictionary that definition comes from, since legally that's nowhere near the definition. But to my enemy that doesn't seem to matter: though I have given every opportunity for peace (in more than one sense: not only have I exhausted my every option to resolve this conflict civilly now, but in the past every time there has been conflict in the relationship, I have always been the one to make the first move toward peace--which makes me wonder why I put up with this person for so long or why she has so pristine a reputation), she desires war. I still desire peace, but with all other options exhausted, I think the old Latin maxim applies: Si vis pacem, para bellum--If you desire peace, prepare for war.
I have an enemy and I have a war, whether I desire one or not. It is not, blessedly, a shooting war, not yet, but a cold war is no less dangerous and savage a conflict in reality. In history, the Cold War between the USA and the USSR gave birth to several shooting wars and brought our species (by many accounts) to the very brink of nuclear self-annihilation. For lack of gunfire, it was no less fierce.
I could fight this war with no rules or, as my enemy has apparently chosen to do, make up rules as I go along so I may declare my actions "good" in every respect. Given the enormous disparity in power between the two of us (something my enemy seems totally unaware of), my options for waging this war successfully are very broad indeed.
But I do not want to just win this war. I have more important concerns. My chiefest concern is my relationship with God, my love and obedience to Him. So it is not enough to fight to win, I must fight good and right--win, lose, or draw.
Thus the question: what would Jesus do with an enemy?
To start with, Jesus had enemies, mainly the Pharisees and other religious elite. I am not in sin just because someone has picked a fight with me. Second, Jesus loved His enemies and admonishes us to love ours. He was always ready to make peace with them and show love for them. He was willing to meet with Nicodemus in the middle of the night and answer the questions of an honest seeker. I also am and must continue to be always open for peace. If I cease to be, then my enemy has succeeded in what appears to be her primary objective--to generate hatred in the place of the love that ought to be between all Christians--and has therefore won, whatever becomes of her thereafter.
Third, Jesus was not afraid to fire the first shot in a cold war. He spoke out against his enemies. He saw that what they were doing in the name of good was, in fact, evil, and He did not hesitate to say so. He did not pull any punches either. He used biting sarcastic wit, He called names, He publicly derided His enemies, and did not hesitate to show the world what they really looked like under their finely decorated robes. The only thing I can think of that He didn't do was He didn't specifically name names and acts, though--being God's Son--He very well could have.
I must also speak out. What my enemy has done is wrong. It is un-Christian. In point of fact, it is one of the only things repeatedly named in the Bible as un-Christian, as an explicit mark of someone who does not know God, someone who is a liar if they say they do know God (1 John 4:20). It is this: an absolute failure to love a fellow Christian, and an insistence on hating him. But this person walks about with the finely decorated robes of a respected Christian and attempts to pull them over this as well, repeatedly declaring their failures to even be civil acts of righteousness. How can I stand idly by and let this become the accepted standard? Is it not well said that all that is necessary for evil to win in our world is for good men to do nothing? I will not do nothing: I will speak out--and while I see no need to name this person publicly, I will not pull my punches either.
Finally, Jesus was not afraid of taking direct action, where necessary. On at least one occasion when it came time to clear the temple, Christ even committed acts of deliberate, premeditated violence: carefully braiding a whip from cords and then using it to drive crooked businessmen from the temple courts, where they were robbing worshipers. Yet even in this He showed restraint. He could have called twelve legions of angels to destroy the world at that very moment, or at the very least kill all the moneychangers out of hand--He fightened them away instead with a mere leather whip. I don't expect to be braiding any whips, but I should be prepared to take action as if necessary. There exists the possibility that my enemy will decide that Fort Collins or Summitview is not big enough for both of us. If that gauntlet is thrown down, I must and will be prepared to force her to back down, but do so with restraint. There was a time when she, in conjunction with others, misused church discipline on a small scale against me. Remembering that power imbalance I mentioned earlier, I now have the connections, the evidence, and the strength of will to correctly use it on a large scale against her, and even an unsuccessful attempt to do so could cause untold damage to the network on which she is heavily dependent (a network which, thanks in part to her previous attacks, I have grown to be independent of). But remembering restraint, I must only apply the amount of force necessary to convince her to back down--a delicate balance to be sure, one that, if it becomes necessary, will require a lot of prayer on my part. I'll cross that bridge when or if I reach it. For now, I will speak out.
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