In the past eight days, I've attended three memorial services. The first was for my grandpa, the second for a fellow student, and the third for the four people who were killed in the OSU Homecoming parade on Saturday. It made me really think about what I’m doing in every moment. I’m not guaranteed my next breath, but do I live like that’s the case? No. Not usually. I take the gift of life for granted every day.
When we lose people, we just want to know why lives like these have to end so suddenly.
Why now?
Why them?
The easy way out is to be angry. Yesterday, Adacia made some poor decisions. Many people’s lives are drastically different because of those decisions. Her life is drastically different because of those decisions.
It’s easy to make her the one and only bad guy. We want to be angry with her.
How could she do that?
Why would she do that?
Doesn’t she know the pain she’s caused?
It’s natural to just hate those who mistreat us.
It’s natural to hate people like Adacia.
Tonight at the third memorial, a prayer vigil, a pastor quoted Jesus saying, “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you…” (Matthew 5:43-44).
It made me think, what if Jesus had hated his enemies?
What would that mean for me?
It would be very, very bad news.
Like my friend pointed out after the prayer vigil tonight...
We’re the enemy.
We’re the ones who messed up.
We’re the ones who should be punished for the innumerable sins we’ve committed against a holy and perfect God.
What if Jesus just loved God and hated us? I mean, He’s the only perfect One and definitely the only one worth loving. Why should He even glance down at us?
Would I want the wrath of God to be taken out on me? I can't even imagine what that would be like.
Thankfully this bad news isn’t true.
There's another way for those who trust in Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. Jesus doesn’t hate His enemies. Jesus loves His enemies. He loves them in this kind of way:
He knew that humanity was fallen.
He knew that justice had to be served.
He knew that He had to come own from His perfect residence with the Father to solve our problem.
He knew He was here to die in our place.
He, a spotless, perfect sacrifice, was given the wrath of God when He was tortured and hung on a cross.
And He didn’t do anything wrong.
That should have been me on the cross. That should have been you.
We're the ones who did wrong.
We’re the enemy who deserved to die for persecuting the Savior of the world.
So why wasn’t it us?
Well, God has a storehouse of a size we can’t fathom, and that storehouse is full of grace. The common definition of grace is “the unmerited favor of God toward man.”
Unmerited. We did not do anything and cannot do anything to deserve grace. We are born not deserving it. One sin is enough to lose it, and we’ve sinned countless times.
God could have obliterated us in an instant. He could have hated us and wiped us out.
But He didn't do that. Instead He sacrificed His Son, giving Him the wrath.
When you think of Adacia Chambers, when you think of the pain she caused, when you want to hate her, stop and remind yourself of the grace and forgiveness you have been shown.
Remind yourself that you made mistakes that God didn’t have to forgive. He could have said, “Nope, that was the last straw, Ellen. You’re gone,” and He could have made me disappear to a place of eternal suffering.
That’s what I really deserve.
But I know that that God made another Way.
I can recognize my helplessness and my imminent death, hopelessness, sorrow, and pain. I can acknowledge Jesus’ righteousness and trust that He’s the only One who can save and give eternal life, hope, joy, and peace.
God shouldn’t have taken a second look at us, but He sent Jesus to suffer that pain we deserved so we could join His family. Because of that, we have eternal life, hope, joy, and peace in the grace we receive.
Let’s remember the forgiveness Jesus showed us, and pray to be forgiving with our enemies, with those who persecute us, with people like Adacia, with the people who seem to be undeserving of grace and forgiveness.
Because we're undeserving, too.
