[Note: This sermon was delivered at a camp (likely Christmas 1988 in Malaysia). Both English and Chinese audiences are addressed. This is Part A.]
Picture a scene in ancient Israel. Two friends go into the forest every day to cut trees for building and cooking — wood being a very important item in daily life. They are strong men who have been swinging their powerful axes for many years. And while one of them takes a strong and powerful swing at a tree, the axe head flies off and strikes his friend directly on the head, smashing his skull. The man drops immediately. His friend rushes over and finds him lying in a pool of blood. Can you imagine the feelings rushing through that man's heart — unspeakable grief on the one hand, and terror of the consequences on the other? He is stunned, not knowing in that moment whether he is more scared or more sad.
That situation is described exactly in Deuteronomy 19:5: when a man goes into the forest with his friend to cut wood, and his hand swings the axe to cut down the tree, and the iron head slips from the handle and strikes his friend so that he dies — he may flee to one of the cities of refuge and live. Why does he have to flee? He is innocent; it was an accident. But Deuteronomy 19:6 explains that the avenger of blood will pursue the manslayer in the heat of his anger, and though the manslayer was not deserving of death, the avenger will kill him anyway unless he reaches the city of refuge. The principle is eye for eye, tooth for tooth, life for life — and although it was an accident, the accused must still prove his innocence, which is never easy.
Those familiar with Chinese Kung Fu movies will recognise this theme immediately — the avenger of blood, the concept of bào chóu, revenge, runs through almost the entirety of Chinese cinema. This ancient theme reaches all the way back to Deuteronomy 19. The avenger of blood was the father, brother, uncle, or son of the man who was killed, and the law permitted him to pursue and kill the accidental killer — on the principle of justice. Within the city of refuge, the innocent man was safe. If the avenger of blood entered the city, he himself would be killed. But the man who fled there had to remain within its walls; one step outside, and he had no protection. He might spend the rest of his life there — until the death of the high priest of Israel.
This picture of refuge helps illuminate many statements in the Psalms. When David writes "the Lord is my refuge and strength," or when the psalmist declares "I flee into him and I am safe," this is the background: the avenger of blood, the enemy, cannot reach me inside the city of refuge. I am safe in the Lord.
Now, what has this to do with today's message? We turn to Matthew 5, beginning at verse 38. The Lord Jesus says: you have heard it was said, an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. But I say to you, do not resist him who is evil; whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn to him the other also. And in verse 43: you have heard that it was said, you shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy. But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you — in order that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. If you love those who love you, what reward have you? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? Therefore you are to be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.
Here we have two principles standing directly against each other: love and justice. We find it impossible to love our enemy because we feel we have been unjustly treated, and in the name of justice, we must settle the score. He wronged me; he deserves to be punished; I have no moral obligation to love him. And you are right on the grounds of justice. But the Lord Jesus takes us further than justice. He says: yes, your enemy may be wrong, yes you have justice on your side — but love him all the same. Take it or leave it. And he adds: only so will you be sons of your Father in heaven.
This camp has been about the fire of love. Now in Luke 12:49, the Lord Jesus says: I have come to cast fire upon the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled. Verse 50: but I have a baptism to undergo, and how distressed I am until it is accomplished. That baptism is his death. He is saying: when I die, I will ignite a fire that will burn in the whole world — the fire of God's love. What kind of love? Love that dies for enemies. Friends do not put you to death; enemies do. And Jesus died at the hands of his enemies and for his enemies. It is always to do with enemies. Through that death — his baptism — he ignited the fire of God's love upon the earth.
And the Lord Jesus never teaches anything that he does not himself practice. He doesn't ask us to love our enemies while doing the opposite himself. His whole life and ministry was a matter of loving the enemy. That fire now burns in many hearts. His word has come true. But he goes on to warn that this fire, far from arousing acceptance, will often arouse opposition: a man's enemies will be those of his own household. When the fire of God's love burned in the pastor's heart, for the first time he truly loved his father and mother — but they told him to go. That is the pattern. And yet the obligation to love them only increases, precisely because they have now become your enemy.
# The Flame of Love (Part B) — Romans 5, the Pastor's Parents, and the All-Victorious Love That Transforms Enemies
[Note: This sermon was delivered at a camp (likely Christmas 1988 in Malaysia). Both English and Chinese audiences are addressed. This is Part B, continuing directly from Part A.]
Romans 5:10 states it plainly: "While we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son." Not while we were his friends — while we were his enemies. That is the gospel. Anyone who preaches otherwise has not understood the gospel. Colossians 1:21-22 says the same: "Although you were formerly alienated and hostile in your mind, engaged in evil deeds, yet he has now reconciled you in his fleshly body through death." That love does not merely give us a nice feeling inside — it makes us holy. There is no holiness in the Bible without this transforming love.
This is the central theme of the whole New Testament — and yet it is almost never preached. In a hymn book of three or four hundred hymns, one can search and not find a single hymn about loving the enemy. And yet this is not a peripheral teaching: if you do not understand it, you have understood nothing about Christianity that really matters. Why do most preachers avoid it? Because it seems unrealistic — people cannot even manage to love their wives, let alone their enemies. Yet that is precisely where to start: for many, the wife has already become the enemy.
Romans 5:8 says: "God demonstrated his own love to us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." The word "sinners" means an enemy of God — someone who rebels against and disobeys him. The demonstration of God's love is that he died for his enemies. That is what makes Jesus unique. There is no religion in the world that teaches dying for an enemy. Even Christians are afraid of this teaching. And yet it is the backbone of the entire New Testament. Without understanding this, you understand no part of the New Testament that really matters.
In a Christian bookstore, on one of those little cards designed for display on a desk or wall, the pastor once saw the words: "Love your enemy — it will drive him nuts." This was on sale in a Christian bookshop. The thought behind it is that love can be another weapon — you drive the enemy crazy with kindness, use love as a tool of revenge. But that is not love at all. That is seeking revenge by another method. The motive is everything. Why did God love us? Not to drive us mad, but so that his all-victorious love would drag us out of the mire of sin and transform a sinner into a new person. That is the only valid motive for loving the enemy.
When the fire of God's love first burned in the pastor's heart, he truly loved his father and mother for the first time. Before his conversion, he respected them outwardly but never really loved them. After Christ came into his heart, he loved them genuinely — and they told him to leave. His father did not write him a single letter for years afterward, even though every year the pastor sent him letters, birthday cards, and presents. His father only dictated a short letter of reconciliation when dying of cancer, paralyzed and unable to write himself — on his deathbed they were finally reconciled, and the pastor had to take the initiative first.
The case with his mother was different. She was the most non-religious person he had ever known — she never once opened a Bible, never entered a church voluntarily, not even at Christmas or Easter. She was bitterly opposed to him after his conversion. But he determined that he would love her even as his enemy. He continued to visit even when not welcome. He brought her gifts. When he went home, he washed the dishes, swept the floor, and did whatever he could before leaving again for the next college term. He was determined to love precisely because she had become his enemy. And one day, with tears in her eyes, she said she would like to pray with him. They knelt down together and she gave her life to the Lord. She became a shining Christian, a delight to behold, a joy to his heart — and the love between them in Christ was deeper and truer than anything they had had before. When she died some years later, he struggled for one or two years to get over the loss, often kneeling before the Lord and having to give it back to him.
If your father or your mother has become your enemy, love them stronger, love them more, love them stubbornly. Understand that they do not yet know how to love you because the holy fire of God has not purified their selfishness. If you persist in loving them, eventually God's fire will burn in their hearts too. The whole ministry of the Lord Jesus — his life and his death — is summed up in loving the enemy. That is why the Christian life is impossible: it asks us to do what no human being can do. But that is exactly why it requires the power of God. Where everything is possible, we do not need God's power. Only in the impossible do we experience it. And as Romans 5:5 tells us, the love of God has been poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit — not a trickle but a pouring, like the Malaysian rain that comes down in buckets. By that love, and only by that love, can we love the way he loves. Let us close in prayer.