[ Listen on Apple Podcasts ] [ Other Options ]
It’s easy to cling to grudges and even feel justified in wishing harm on an enemy. But what if God calls us to something radically different? Here’s why Compassion matters more than vengeance.
Rethinking Who Our Enemies Really Are
There’s an old saying you’ve probably heard before. It goes something like: “I wouldn’t wish my worst enemy any harm.” You may have also heard it as, “I wouldn’t even wish that on my worst enemy.” (Often spoken after discussing something horrible with a best friend… you know, food poisoning, getting slowly crushed between two buses, or being forced to endure a 24-hour marathon of American Idol). It’s a sentiment that, at face value, might sound noble, a step away from vengeance or spite. But lately I’ve been sitting with it, turning it over in my mind like a gymnast doing front tucks (albeit in somewhat of an inebriated state by the look of it), and it’s begun to feel more complex than that.
Who is my worst enemy anyway? And why? What makes someone a villain in my story? I’ve asked myself these questions and what I’ve come to realize is that the whole concept is a bit subjective.
The person who’s my worst enemy… maybe they’ve wronged me, hurt me, betrayed me in a way that feels almost irredeemable. But what if I’m the only one who feels that way about them? What if, in their life, I’m the only one who views them through that darkened lens? What if, to them, I’m not their worst enemy, but their only enemy?
And that opens up a whole other world of questions, ones that stretch my brain in ways I am fairly certain it wasn’t designed for (not at this age anyway). Because if I am their only enemy, it means that outside of my interactions with them, they have other experiences. They have people who see them differently. They have friends who call them up for advice, family members who laugh with them over old memories (I struggle to believe that—everyone knows worst enemies aren’t funny). Maybe they’re someone’s father, someone’s mother. Someone’s sibling, spouse, or seventh cousin thrice removed. And those people Love them deeply. Those people see them as something other than what I see; a friend, a protector, a giver, a light in their life.
I’m forced to confront the reality that my perception of someone isn’t the whole truth of them. It’s just a slice. It’s just my small, often bitter, slice of the pie. And if God Loves them—and I believe He does, just as much as He Loves me—then maybe I’m being called to see them differently. Or at the very least, to see them in more than one dimension.
The Poison of Bitterness and Why It Hurts Us Most
Here’s the tough part: It’s one thing to acknowledge that my enemy has a life outside of my own perspective, it’s another thing entirely to act on it. It’s easy to get wrapped up in our personal narratives, the way our stories tell us who’s the hero and who’s the villain. We build up these walls of justification around our grudges, piling on reason after reason why we’re in the right. They wronged us. They said this. They did that. They brought slime into my house! And those things may be true. Our feelings of hurt and betrayal are valid. But even with that truth in hand, I have to ask myself: What do I do with it?
I could hold on to my anger. That’s one way of going about it. And honestly, sometimes it feels good to hold on to it because it validates the pain. It makes me feel like I’m taking some kind of control back. But over time, I’ve learned that holding onto bitterness doesn’t just imprison the other person; it locks me up too. It chains me to the past, keeping me from the freedom that comes with healing.
And that bitterness, as much as it’s tied to a specific person, doesn’t stay neatly in one place. It spills over. It colors how I view other people, other relationships. It hardens my heart and makes it difficult to open up, to connect, to see beyond myself. It’s like a weed that grows not just where I planted it but starts sprouting in places I didn’t even notice. Like the fireplace or the couch. Places that don’t even make sense!
So if my perspective on my worst enemy is only one angle of their story and if God Loves them in a way that transcends my limited view, then I have to confront my own responsibility in this. How do I step out of my narrative, even when it feels justified? How do I reach toward a more Compassionate response, one that doesn’t negate my own experience but acknowledges that there’s more going on here than just me?
Choosing Compassion Over Resentment
Maybe we need some reframing. What if instead of seeing this person solely as my enemy, I saw them as a soul, as a person who is just as complex and multi-dimensional as I am? What if I allowed myself to imagine the fullness of their life outside of their interactions with me?
If I take a moment to step back and widen my view, I start to see someone who isn’t defined by the hurt they’ve caused me. I see someone who has their own battles, someone who may have stumbled, someone who may not even be aware of the impact they had on me. Maybe they’re carrying their own wounds, their own struggles. Maybe the reason they acted the way they did has little to do with me and everything to do with a pain they’ve been carrying for years. Or maybe they’re simply doing their best in a moment of their life that doesn’t overlap with mine in a way that feels fair.
There’s a freedom that comes when I let go of the idea that someone else’s mistakes are solely about me. It’s not about excusing what they did; it’s about understanding that their actions are a reflection of their journey, not mine. They are human, just as I am. They are Loved by God, just as I am. And they are capable of growth, just as I am.
When I open myself up to that perspective, I create space for Compassion. Not pity—because pity still holds a power dynamic—but Compassion, which allows me to see them as a fellow traveler on this road of life. And maybe that’s where the heart of God lies. In that space where, despite the hurt, despite the differences, despite the messiness of human interaction, there’s an understanding that we are all beloved, all worthy, all called to grow.
I noted earlier that this person might actually be a light in someone else’s life. Aren’t I trying to create a world of “little lights“? Who would I be if I denied this light to shine even in my own room?
Learning to See Enemies Through God’s Love
So what do I do with this realization? How do I translate this understanding into action?
It starts with prayer and it starts with humility. I ask God to show me this person through His eyes. I ask Him to soften the hardened places in my heart, the places that cling to the hurt because it feels safer than letting it go. And I ask Him to help me see the whole person, not just the part of them that I’ve decided is my enemy.
Next, I make an intentional effort to shift my perspective in practical ways. Maybe it’s choosing not to speak ill of them when their name comes up in conversation. Maybe it’s praying for them when my mind starts to spiral into anger. Maybe it’s imagining what their day looks like beyond the moment they crossed paths with me; seeing them as a father or mother, as a friend, as a child of God.
This isn’t easy and it doesn’t happen overnight. Sometimes I’ll still feel that tug of resentment, that sting of betrayal. But in those moments I remind myself that God Loves them. And if I claim to follow a God who is Love itself, then I am called to mirror that Love, even when it’s hard. Even when it’s the last thing I want to do. Because that’s where transformation happens, when I move beyond the confines of my story and start to live in the light (there it is again!) of a bigger narrative.
Ultimately, I don’t wish ill upon my worst enemy because I know that they aren’t just my enemy. They’re a person, a soul, a life that has value beyond my perception. And while I may not be able to control how they’ve impacted me, I can control how I choose to respond. I can choose Compassion over bitterness. I can choose to pray rather than hold a grudge. I can choose to see them as more than just their faults, just as I hope others see me.
Think about that last sentence: I can choose to see them as more than just their faults, just as I hope others see me.
And maybe, just maybe, in that choice, I find a little more of the heart of God. One that holds Grace and Love for everyone, even those we struggle to understand.
Share
Do you have what you would consider a “worst enemy”? After reading this article, do you feel any differently about them? Do you find yourself even willing to? Have you ever wished ill upon this person? Why or why not? Lastly, consider that you may be someone else’s worst enemy. How does this idea affect your perspective? Share your thoughts and experiences below!