There are things to be learned from most of the chief biblical characters when it comes to enemies, opposition, conspirators, antagonists and the like.

Going all the way back to Moses, we see an emerging call to lead Israel out of slavery. We see a brief, violent reaction to an abuse being foisted on an Israelite slave. Moses kills the abuser, then flees the country out into the wilderness, running from everything. When he returns, years later, he is God's agent of deliverance. His attitude and tone toward pharaoh is matter-of-fact. Deliver my people, or else. Not much malice - just determination.

The more useful study could be made of Moses relationship to the people he is delivering. While we would hardly call them enemies, Moses has detractors - complainers, murmurers, even some who threaten his life. And even his own brother, Aaron, must have hurt Moses deeply by participating in uprisings.

Moses moans and groans, and suffers the faithlessness and forgetfulness and ingratitude of his own people. But before God, he pleads for them, urging God to be gentle with their weakness and betrayal. Why so gracious? I think he sees something of himself in them - his own protestations against God, and his own season in the wilderness.

Later in the Old Testament comes David - warrior, poet, king, man of prayer. Who were David's enemies? Oh, he fought Philistines, Canaanites, Amorites, Ammonites, Amalekites (and stalagtites, stalagmites, mosquito bites). His war stories are filled with moments of terrible atrocity and uncommon nobility. Being a political leader, military and spiritual leader at the same time is a complex task in such a volatile, violent era - perhaps any era this side of heaven.

Again, his ongoing struggles from within the ranks are the clearer study of the man. From the day the boy David kills the giant Goliath, David is so obviously anointed by God for leadership that his own king, Saul, tries to have him killed. Saul hates David, mostly out of jealousy and fear. Later, after becoming king, David's own son, Absalom, conspires against his dad. David spends whole seasons of his life on the run, suffering the monumental pain of conspiracies ignited by people close to him. So many of his psalms are written from hiding, on the run, and reveal the classic internal debate between hurt and anger, on one side, and grace and mercy, on the other. And, perhaps like Moses, because David has his own seasons in the spiritual wilderness, he grieves when Saul and Absalom die - he never stopped loving them. Again, again, perhaps he sees something of himself in them.

Jump to the New Testament. Other than Jesus, Paul is the chief character; and he's a spitfire. Yes, he preaches a gospel of freedom and grace, but when things go sour, he's hard-hitting, straightforward (kind of like Don Goehner, except Paul uses names). Like Moses and David, there are enemies on the outside - those who threaten and eventually take his life. But Paul is matter-of-fact about the outside forces of political empires and godlessness. The greater lessons are to be learned by the internal battles. If not enemies, Paul has many opponents. Paul's cause is to see the emerging, increasingly international church of Jesus Christ founded on truth and sound doctrine - united, and not fragmented by false teachings. Paul's work is almost Lincolnesque, as he tries to hold early Christianity together around a common message. His most notable opponents are the Judaizers - Jewish Christians who require strict legalistic, Jewish protocol in concert with Christian discipleship. The whole book of Galatians is an emotional appeal to people falling prey to the Judaizers:

I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting the one who called you by the grace of Jesus Christ and are turning to a different gospel, which is no gospel at all… It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery. (1:6, 5:1)

Then there are the libertines, on the opposite pole. They take grace too far, and say, "Who cares about morality. We're forgiven. Let's party!" Paul argues, "Shall we continue in sin that grace may abound! May it never be!" There are other antagonists, like Alexander the Metalworker, who "has done me a great deal of harm." There are deserters, like John Mark, and Demur, who left Paul in the lurch. In these stories, you can hear Paul's angst, but also see his grace… There are genealogists, mentioned more than once - people who love speculation and controversy. Then there were those (Philippians) who preach the gospel for the wrong reasons - jealous of Paul, they are competing with him, and preaching for their own reputations and worldly gain. Paul laments this, but philosophizes, "As long as Christ is preached, I will rejoice and continue to rejoice."

What really steams Paul are those who bring division, either by toxic behavior or by faulty and misleading teaching. He reserves his strongest verbal assaults for those who would call themselves Christian and yet divide, harm, discourage or mislead the body of Christ. To Paul, when one part hurts, the whole body hurts. His enemy is division and anyone who puts personal opinion or aggrandizement over the united surge of the church, causing many people to be harmed and the cause of Christ to be thwarted. But at heart, Paul's a softy, and when you connect the dots between Acts and the Epistles, you see that he believes in second chances and lots of grace.

After all, Paul was once a Pharisee of Pharisees, a legalist, and a pursuer and persecutor of Christians in the early church. Certainly, he sees something of himself, even in the opposition. So what about Jesus? The Pharisees might not have been enemies, but he charges them with every kind of hypocrisy and laced much of his teaching with barbs, intended to confront the Pharisees even in the midst of his most benign teachings. He calls them a few names every bit as nasty as the word enemy. The Pharisees, in essence, are a religious sect that memorizes the words but misses the spirit of the words. They are self-avowed experts on truth, but miss the essence of truth. They are fault-finders, and don't see the fault in it. So Jesus lets them have it, over and over, and they let Jesus have it - the death Jesus came to die.

But for Jesus, the enemy is really wrong theology, not the bad theologian. The enemy is bad thinking, empty religion, hypocritical legalism that ignores deeper issues of love and life and hurt and grace and the human condition. The enemy is any understanding of God and faith and truth that lies about His Father, or misrepresents the heart and the agenda of God. Jesus argues with bad thinking, but he dies for bad thinkers; just as he dies for you and me. And for all of us, he says from the cross, "Forgive them, for they know not what they do."

And while Jesus knew no sin, he knows what it is to be tempted. And while Jesus saw our sins, He also sees something of worth in us - something created in the image of God.

200 years ago, George McDonald wrote, "Why should we love our enemies? The deepest reason for this cannot be put into words, for it lies in the absolute reality of their beings, where our enemies are of one nature with us, even of the divine nature…Lies there not within the man and the woman a divine element of brotherhood, of sisterhood, a something lovely and lovable - slowly fading, it may be - dying away under the fierce heat of vile passions, or the yet more fearful cold of sepulchral selfishness - but there?"

C.S. Lewis writes about that "sepulchral selfishness" that overtakes all of us when we're afraid to love - afraid of the vulnerability and the hurt and the betrayal. The worst hurts are inflicted on us, not by some faceless enemy, but by those who we care about so much that they have the power to hurt us. So while they seem to give up on us (usually for fear of hurt), we find the courage not to give up on them. Ken Gire borrows from romantic, mythical adventure. He writes, "…perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us once beautiful and brave. Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us." So it is, even with the worst kinds of enemies, even to civilization - the murderers and terrorists and anarchists - dragons with hard scales and fiery weapons and evil schemes. And a soft underbelly of pain and hurt and helplessness wanting, wanting, wanting help from us.

Apart from the obvious need for every civilized society to police and to protect and even to punish civil enemies, the greatest need in every civilized culture is for people who are big enough, hearts that are warm enough, convictions that are brave enough, to address those real needs, that festering helplessness, hopefully before those dragons, (who are not really dragons at all but scared children) to harm to themselves or others.

When I'm in that frame of mind, my opponents are just people like me. I might need to teach them or confront them or even overcome them; but it isn't necessary to despise them.

When I'm in that frame of mind, my antagonists are just people like me, who for whatever reason can't quite reach some sticky thorn, and have turned into dragons; I might need to battle my way to that thorn, but I'd much rather relieve their pain than slay the dragon.

When I'm in that frame of mind, the Judaizers and libertines and controversy-lovers - they just need correction, and if they keep harming the church, they need to be quarantined. But everyone gets off track sometimes, and truth has a way of winning out, and love covers a multitude of sins. So I'll argue and teach and rebuke and reprove, but if I stop loving them, I hope you'll rebuke and reprove me.

As for deserters and betrayers - ouch. These are the ones who really hurt us. But how often, in ways subtle or spectacular, have I deserted or betrayed my best friend and savior? I'm just like them.

So, to put it simply, the answer to loving our enemies isn't just about something noble rising up in us, though I hope it is (He is). Loving our enemies is also about seeing something of us in them. That kind of seeing - that kind of honesty - gives pause to our hating. Of course, if we hate that thing in us, we will likely hate it in others. The angriest people are often self-haters.

So we need to learn how to give ourselves grace. And then to give others grace.

And how do we give ourselves grace? Not by minimizing our wrongs, but by accepting the grace of God, who is big enough, and His heart is warm enough, and His convictions are brave enough, to see beyond the dragon in me to the helpless child, wanting, wanting, wanting,

Receive His grace. Live and bathe in His grace. Now, today, tomorrow, and even over your yesterdays, pour out His grace liberally. Let it wash over everyone near you, even those who would do you harm. They're not really your enemies. They are you and me and us waiting for someone brave and beautiful to bring release from the curse.

Who is the dragon in your life?

• Parent
• Neighbor
• Child
• Sibling
• Boss
• Abuser
• Antagonist
• Opponent

What would it take to release him? Her?

This one does. This one does.