Whose Enemy Are You?

A Few Thoughts on Burning Coals and the Wrath of God

“If your enemy is hungry, give him food to eat;

if he is thirsty, give him water to drink.

In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head,

and the Lord will reward you.”

- Proverbs 25:21–22

Writing to a collection of churches on the brink of total dissension, Paul quotes an old proverb about caring for enemies (Rom. 12:20).

This makes perfect sense given the context. Paul is trying to hold the churches together, and he demonstrates how genuine love — not coercion or doctrinal uniformity — is the glue.

But why burning coals?

As a teenager, any time I heard mention of heaping burning coals on the heads of those I hated, I straightened up my collar and gave a jaunty smirk. That’ll show ’em. Kill ‘em with kindness, as they say.

The older I get — and the more I come to know the God I call Father — the more this gives me pause.

Just a few verses before Paul quotes Proverbs, he calls back to Deuteronomy: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay” (Deut. 32:35)

As I sat in the second row a few Sundays ago, I got to thinking — how exactly do I expect God to repay my enemies?

Will God call down the fires of Heaven to put them in their place? Will God shut the gates of eternity to leave them weeping and gnashing their teeth? Will God’s mighty hand ball itself into a fist, His outstretched arm swinging for the holy knockout?

Then I thought, whose enemy am I?

Is it my neighbor, whose lawn my dog decided to relieve himself on, without me noticing? Is it the deacon whose doctrine I detest? Is it the woman on the street corner, who stares as I walk past with bags of groceries?

Whose enemy am I?

Whose enemy are you?

Even the repentant and reconciled are unlikely to say, “no one.”

But once we answer that question, another begs itself — how exactly do I expect God to repay me?

It’s far easier to praise God for his mercy when we’re the recipients.

When our enemies are in question, God becomes just and righteous (as if either of these qualities could be divorced from his mercy).

Perhaps Paul is calling for the Romans to care for those they hate because, in doing so, they participate in God’s mercy — the sort of repayment He deems righteous.

Perhaps a bite to eat or a glass of water is nothing less than the sort of genuine love that Christ extends not only to us, but to our enemies.

Perhaps that sort of genuine love will light a fire, the coals of which will not be meant to burn the heads they are heaped upon, but will ignite the hearts beneath those heads — overcoming them with passion, not pain.

Perhaps the everyday acts of solidarity are the means by which God will “overcome evil with good” (Rom. 12:21).

And perhaps God is waiting for us to join Him in the work.