By His Word
“But love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back. Then your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High, because he is kind to the ungrateful and wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.” —Luke 6:35–36
Few teachings of Jesus sound more beautiful when spoken in church and more demanding when practiced in daily life than His command to love our enemies. We admire mercy until we must extend it to someone who has wounded us, misrepresented us, taken advantage of us, or refused to admit wrongdoing. At that moment, mercy no longer feels like a comforting religious idea. It becomes an act of costly obedience.
Luke 6:27–38 belongs to the larger message often called the Sermon on the Plain. Jesus has announced blessings upon the poor, the hungry, the grieving, and those rejected because of their faithfulness to Him. He then turns to the way His followers should respond when they are mistreated. They are not to imitate the hostility directed toward them. Instead, Jesus calls them to love, bless, pray, give, forgive, and treat others as they would wish to be treated.
This is not a strategy for earning God’s love. It is the evidence that His love has already begun reshaping us. Mercy does not make us children of God; mercy reveals the family resemblance of those who belong to God.
Jesus places the character of the Father at the center of His teaching: “He is kind to the ungrateful and wicked.” The Greek word translated “kind” is chrēstos, describing someone who is gracious, benevolent, and generous. God provides sunlight, rain, food, breath, time, and innumerable daily mercies even to those who neither acknowledge nor thank Him. His kindness is not an endorsement of their rebellion. It is an expression of His character and an invitation to repentance.
Paul develops this same truth in Romans: “God’s kindness is intended to lead you to repentance” (Romans 2:4). Divine kindness never pretends that evil is harmless. Rather, God confronts evil without becoming evil and addresses human rebellion without abandoning His gracious nature.
When Jesus commands, “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful,” Luke uses a form of the Greek word oiktirmōn. It conveys compassion arising from deep concern for another person’s misery or need. Biblical mercy is more than feeling sorry for someone. It moves toward the wounded, gives to the needy, forgives the repentant, and refuses to let another person’s hostility dictate our character.
That distinction matters. Loving an enemy does not mean calling evil good, remaining in an abusive situation, or refusing to establish necessary boundaries. Mercy and discernment belong together. We can speak truth, seek justice, protect vulnerable people, and still refuse to become bitter or vindictive. Mercy does not require us to trust an untrustworthy person immediately. It requires us to place judgment and vengeance in God’s hands while asking Him to keep hatred from taking possession of ours.
Jesus continues, “Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned” (Luke 6:37). He is not forbidding moral discernment. Elsewhere, He instructs His followers to recognize false prophets by their fruit and to address sin honestly. What He condemns is the harsh, self-exalting spirit that carefully catalogs another person’s faults while remaining blind to its own.
Judgmentalism places us above another person. Mercy places us beside that person as someone who also needs grace.
Before we condemn someone for being ungrateful, we should remember the times we received God’s gifts without thanking Him. Before we despise another person’s failure, we should remember how patiently God has dealt with our own. Before we insist that someone deserves no further kindness, we should stand again at the cross, where Christ prayed for His executioners and offered Himself for sinners.
Mercy becomes especially difficult when we believe another person does not deserve it. Yet that is precisely where mercy begins. If kindness is given only to people who have earned it, it is payment rather than mercy. Jesus asks His followers to do something that cannot be explained by ordinary human exchange: to give without calculating the return, to bless without demanding recognition, and to do good without first determining whether the recipient is worthy.
The familiar story about the young Princess Elizabeth and her sister Margaret captures something of this calling. Before public occasions, they were reportedly reminded that royal children should display royal manners. Their conduct did not make them members of the royal family. Their conduct was expected to reflect the family to which they already belonged.
Christians bear an even greater identity. We are children of the Most High. When we show patience to someone who has tested us, return a calm answer to an angry voice, pray for someone who has opposed us, or quietly help a person who can offer nothing in return, we display something of our Father’s character. Our mercy becomes a small window through which others may glimpse the gracious heart of God.
This does not mean that mercy will always change the other person. Jesus never promised that loving an enemy would immediately turn that enemy into a friend. Mercy first changes the one who offers it. It loosens resentment’s grip, interrupts the cycle of retaliation, and keeps another person’s conduct from determining who we become.
God may be speaking personally through this passage by bringing a particular name or face to mind. Perhaps there is someone whose failures you repeatedly rehearse. Perhaps criticism has hardened into contempt, or disappointment has become a quiet desire to see that person brought low. The Lord’s word is not asking you to deny what happened. He may be asking you to surrender the bitterness produced by it.
Begin with one faithful act. Pray honestly for that individual. Refuse to repeat a damaging story unnecessarily. Offer appropriate help without demanding gratitude. Speak truth without cruelty. Establish wise boundaries without hatred. Ask the Holy Spirit to replace the satisfaction of condemnation with the compassion of Christ.
The clearest evidence that mercy has reached our hearts is that it begins flowing through our lives. We may not accomplish this perfectly, but each act of undeserved kindness declares that resentment will not rule us. We belong to the Father whose mercy met us when we could offer Him nothing in return.
Remember whose you are. Then, by the grace that has welcomed you, let your conduct bear the unmistakable resemblance of your merciful Father.
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