O Lord, oppose those who oppose me. Fight those who fight against me. … Make their path dark and slippery, with the angel of the Lord pursuing them. [Psalm 35:1,6 (NLT)
Let death stalk my enemies; let the grave swallow them alive, for evil makes its home within them. [Psalm 55:15 (NLT)]
A few nights ago, I had some unwelcome visitors—worry and anger—and they wouldn’t let me sleep. I responded to their visit with prayer and yet it seemed God had closed His office for the night. We’d just received an accusatory and demanding “do this or else” letter from an attorney and my prayers had been as accusing and vindictive as was the letter. No wonder God turned a deaf ear to them.
Throughout much of King David’s life, he was beset by enemies: Philistines, Babylonians, Moabites, Ammonites, King Saul, and even his own son Absalom. As a result, many of his Psalms include what are known as imprecatory prayers in which he asks God to punish and destroy his enemies, sometimes in quite horrible ways. Although David was asking God to settle the matter of evil, I find it hard to reconcile his words with Christianity’s love, forgiveness, meekness and peace. As Christians, no matter how much we dislike someone or how malicious or nasty he (or she) happens to be, we are never to curse them or wish evil upon anyone. In fact, Jesus tells us to do the exact opposite—we are to love, pray for and bless those who curse us. Moreover, we are to submit to God’s sovereignty and pray that His (not our) will be done. The only way to be at peace with God is to be at peace with his children.
I’ve encountered opposition several times, but having flesh and blood adversaries or enemies is new to me. Our integrity has never been questioned before this and I was wounded, confused and irate. I knew I had to pray for our legal enemies and, while I didn’t curse them with imprecatory prayer, I certainly wasn’t blessing them either. As I prayed that they would be reasonable, see the light, change their minds, concede the error of their ways, and go away quietly, I was really praying about me, not for them. Again, it seemed that God was deaf to my pleas. It took me awhile before I understood that my real enemy wasn’t human; he was right there in my mind, tormenting me with outraged, vengeful and worrisome thoughts. It was not until I stopped thinking of these people as foes and started to pray blessings for them that I felt God again open His door to me and my prayers. As I prayed for them, for their health and happiness and even their prosperity, my anger subsided and my worry disappeared.
While I think we’ve acted honorably and been honest and forthright, I’m sure the other party is as sure they’re justified in their accusations and demands. In actuality, the truth probably lies somewhere in between. I’ll leave it to the lawyers and God to figure out a sensible and peaceful solution. I’ve already lost one night’s sleep over this; I’m not about to lose my soul, as well. As for me, I’m going to love, forgive and pray blessings for my enemy and, if need be, even turn the other cheek.
You have heard that it was said, “Love your friends, hate your enemies.” But now I tell you: love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may become the children of your Father in heaven. For he makes his sun to shine on bad and good people alike, and gives rain to those who do good and to those who do evil. [Matthew 5:43-45 (GNT)]
When writing yesterday’s devotion (“It’s Curtains”), I couldn’t help but feel a brief pang of regret because I never had those conversations with my parents before they died. The thoughts, “Please forgive me. I forgive you. Thank you. I love you,” may have been assumed but never were spoken. I was fifteen when my mother succumbed to cancer. I saw her that day in hospital but, when I walked out that afternoon, I was sure I’d see her again when I visited the following day. I never thought the next time I saw her she’d be lying in a casket. When people would say, “She looks so good,” I wanted to shout at them and say, “She doesn’t look good; she looks dead!” Five years later, I was in the same funeral home and surrounded by many of the same mourners. That time, it was my father’s body lying so still in the front of the room. Two day earlier he’d been hunting pheasants when his heart failed; he died in the middle of a corn field. I’d seen him just a few weeks before that and never thought our farewell was the final one. Did my parents know how much I loved them? Did they know how sorry I was for my failings? Did they know I forgave them for theirs? Did they know how thankful I was for the life they gave me?
Immediately after finishing yesterday’s devotion about conflict and prayer, I received a call from a friend whose 11-year old granddaughter, Anna, has osteosarcoma (bone cancer). Having undergone chemotherapy for the past two months, she is scheduled for surgery this week. In the best case scenario, her knee and part of her femur will be removed and replaced by a metal prostheses; the worst case scenario involves complete amputation of the leg. In either case, more chemo and at least six to twelve months of physical therapy will follow.
