Check one off of the list.

A few months back I decided to read all the wisdom of the Sermon on the Mount and put it into practice. It seemed like a pretty easy goal at first, but then I started really, really reading it for the first time, and I realized there was a lot of tough stuff Jesus had to say that I had so far basically overlooked.
I got to Matthew 5:43 and encountered these words, which I had heard before but never really thought into:
"Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you."
I was pretty sure I had enemies. I started naming the list off in my head. I had never allowed myself to say I hated any of them, because I knew that whole thing about hate being like murder and all that. I would say that I loved them, but that was probably just because I knew that was what I was supposed to say.
My mom used to always have this phrase she would say when I was growing up and I was a real pain to be around and all. She said "Love is a verb." I could say I loved people all I wanted, but if I wasn't living it out, it didn't mean a thing. This was true of my relationship with my family, this was true of my relationship with God, and, as I was reading this, I knew it was true of my relationships with my enemies.
It's a hard thing to love in action people who won't acknowledge you or people you maybe never have a chance to interact with. But Jesus gives us a simple solution to the problem: Pray.
Prayer requires thinking of that person you try to push out of your head. It requires you to be concerned with their welfare. It requires you to love them, and to put that love into action.
I decided to pray for you.
I wasn't just praying for you; there was a list of maybe five to ten people that I decided to pray for. You were somewhere at the bottom. Some of these people directly affected my everyday life by falling into the "enemy" classification. It was unpleasant and downright inconvenient to have them as enemies. So I prayed for them. You were another issue, because I felt like if I prayed for your well-being, I was praying for the well-being of someone who, in gaining happiness, had already robbed me of mine. What could you need? What could I possibly pray for you about? And why should I really care if you were my enemy or not?
I started praying. But not for you.
I found that praying for my enemies opened my heart up a lot. I started seeing past the rough edges on some of the people on my list. Tensions and hostility started to fade. I even gained friendships, slowly. Your name was still on the list. I mostly ignored it.
The first time I prayed for you, there was a storm. If anyone knows me, they will know I get a little terrified during storms, especially when the sirens go off (this comes naturally for me, having grown up in a town that gets partially demolished every couple of years). I was huddled in the hallway, and I was praying for myself, my family, even my dog. And then your name came to mind.
I knew that, chances were, you were huddled in a hallway or bathroom somewhere. I don't know what you were praying for. But I was praying for your prayers to be met, and for you to be safe from harm. Then I went on and prayed for you some more, just that you would have happiness and all that and that God would do all this awesome stuff with you, and even that maybe you'd be able to forgive me for all the stuff I did to you without ever meaning to or even knowing you.
I wish I could say that I prayed for you regularly after that night. It was only every once in a while, and then I would go back to feeling like I only loved you in the sense that I didn't want to get in trouble for not loving you, but the way it played out it actually looked an awful lot like hatred...
I would kick myself for it. I knew I wanted to receive extreme love and extreme forgiveness, but I found it so hard to give out any grace. I knew I was being unjust in how I felt about you. I just felt like my life had fallen apart and yours had come together at my expense. Everything else faded off, all the old feelings disappeared, except that when I saw you from a distance I though it wasn't fair how you had it so easy, and everything for me had become so hard. I kind of thought of you as some kind of evil selfish monster, and thinking of you that way made it a whole lot easier to keep you on my list of enemies.
I never interacted with you until today. I can't help but think it was one of those times that God realized I was completely fumbling up the whole thing on my own and he had to step in and stick something in my face to get my attention. So he sent you, in person for once, and we got to talk.
It was the briefest possible interaction, but you were there, right in front of me, and I couldn't see you as a monster.
I could tell you were uncomfortable. I'm sure you could tell my hands were shaking, though I tried so hard to smile. I had to step away and catch my breath shortly after. But I could see your eyes, and I couldn't help but think they reflected some of the feelings I'd been experiencing.
Maybe you had tried to pray for me a couple times before.
Maybe you couldn't help but keep feeling hurt and jealousy, like I so often did.
Maybe you were a little afraid I hated you, as I was afraid you hated me.
I wish I could say I had never hated you.
Tonight I'm praying for you, but you're not really on my list of enemies anymore. I realize you, along with everyone else I had called an enemy, had only ever made that list because of my flawed thinking, my self-centeredness, and my short-sightedness. Maybe Jesus was thinking, all along, when he said all that stuff on the mountain, that we would discover there's often such a thin line, if a line at all, between persecutor and persecuted, neighbor and enemy. Tonight I'm praying for peace between us, even if we never see each other again, and I'm praying, truly, for your happiness.
There's such a peace to be found in obeying the words of Christ. This is just one of many times I have come to really realize that. I'm sure there will be many more to come.