What’s the opposite of a waterfall? A firefly. What’s the opposite of a croissant? A happy uncle. What’s the opposite of a mango? Womanstay. If that sounds like nonsense, imagine how Jesus’ words in Luke 6:27–38 must have landed on His listeners: “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.” It’s as if Jesus declared it “opposite day” in the kingdom of God—a way of living so counterintuitive it feels absurd. And yet, He wasn’t joking. He was calling us to a life transformed by radical, proactive forgiveness.

Let’s be honest: this isn’t how the world works. When someone cuts us off in traffic, we don’t naturally think, “Bless you!” When a coworker spreads rumors, our gut doesn’t say, “Let me pray for them.” If anything, we’re wired to react in kind—anger for anger, curse for curse. But Jesus flips the script. He doesn’t just suggest we tolerate our enemies; He commands us to love them. To do good. To bless. To pray. Why? Because this isn’t just a lofty ideal—it’s the mark of a life aligned with God. Jesus promises two outcomes: great reward and the privilege of reflecting God’s character, acting like “sons of the Most High.”

A Formula for a Life Well-Lived

If you’re searching for a blueprint to live well, here it is: Love, do good, bless, and pray for. It’s simple but not easy. When someone doesn’t like you? Love them. When they lie about you? Do good. When they cuss you out? Bless them. When they treat you poorly? Pray for them. This isn’t passive endurance; it’s active grace. Jesus isn’t asking us to grit our teeth and bear it—He’s calling us to move from “react in kind” to “respond in love.”

Most of us are familiar with the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” (Luke 6:31). It’s a beautiful principle echoed across cultures and philosophies. Treat others with the kindness you’d want. Simple, right? But Jesus doesn’t stop there. He turns it up to eleven: “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.” It’s not enough to mirror how we’d like to be treated; we’re called to mirror God’s mercy. That means loving those who don’t love us, blessing those who curse us, praying for those who’d rather see us fail. It’s crazy. And yet, it’s the heartbeat of the Christian life.

Jesus Leads the Way

These wouldn’t be more than inspiring words if Jesus hadn’t lived them out. Romans 5:8 nails it: “But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Think about that. Jesus didn’t wait for us to get our act together. He loved us when we were His enemies. He desired good for us when we rejected Him. He blessed us when we cursed Him. And on the cross, as soldiers gambled for His clothes after nailing Him to the wood, He prayed, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). If you or I had been there, tossing dice at the foot of the cross, He’d have prayed the same for us.

This is the love that fuels our ability to forgive. It’s not something we muster up—it’s something we receive. When we’re comforted by His grace, healed by His mercy, and restored by His kindness, we start to see how we can extend that to others. John 3:17 reminds us, “For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through Him.” Judgment feels natural; mercy feels divine.

The Soil of the Soul

Here’s the catch: you can’t fully love your enemies until you realize you’ve been one. We’re quick to point fingers, but what about our own hearts? Our thoughts, words, and deeds—things we’ve done and left undone—reveal we don’t always love God or our neighbors perfectly. If Jesus’ call feels ridiculous, it’s not because the command is flawed; it’s because the soil of our soul needs tending. The answer isn’t to try harder but to confess more deeply. The way into Christ’s light begins by acknowledging our own darkness.

Pride is the real enemy here. It builds walls between us and God, convincing us we’re self-sufficient. But Christians aren’t enlightened gurus who’ve mastered the path; we’re beggars showing other beggars where to find bread. When we confess our dependence on Christ’s forgiveness, those walls crumble. You can’t plead for God’s mercy in one breath and withhold it from someone else in the next. It’s not about feeling warm and fuzzy—it’s about choosing what’s true, whether the emotions follow or not.

A Real-Life Example

Take Mary Johnson and Oshea Israel. In 1993, Oshea, then 16, murdered Mary’s son. Rage consumed her, but over time, she heard Christ’s call to forgive. She reached out to Oshea in prison, built a relationship, and forgave him from her heart. When he was released, she welcomed him as a neighbor and spiritual son. Their story isn’t just a feel-good tale—it’s proof that this radical love changes lives. Hers. His. And everyone who hears it.

How Do We Live This Out?

So how do we start? Here are some practical steps:

Pray for those who’ve wronged you. Lift them up, even if it’s through gritted teeth at first.

Surrender your right to revenge. Let God handle justice—He’s better at it.

Look for ways to do good. A kind word, a small gesture—it matters.

Forgive, even if they don’t ask. Reconciliation might not happen, but your heart can still be free.

Trust God to heal. He’s the one who restores what’s broken.

This isn’t natural. It’s supernatural. But it’s the way God treats us—loving us when we’re unlovable, blessing us when we’re cursing, praying for us when we’re lost. When we live this out, it doesn’t just transform us; it ripples outward, touching lives we might never expect.

The Takeaway

Jesus’ call in Luke 6 isn’t a suggestion—it’s a revolution. It’s a life where forgiveness isn’t a reaction but a choice, where love isn’t earned but given. It’s hard, yes, but it’s possible because He’s already done it for us. So today, who can you love? Who can you bless? Who can you pray for? Start there, and watch what God does with the rest.