"See that no one repays anyone evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to everyone." – 1 Thessalonians 5:15

One of the greatest commandments Jesus gives us is to love our neighbors as ourselves (Matthew 22:39). It’s a verse many of us know well—and one we often admire from a distance. But when love moves from theory to practice, it becomes complicated, uncomfortable, and deeply personal.

Loving people is easy when they are kind, consistent, and safe. It becomes much harder when they disappoint us, misunderstand us, talk about us, or wound us in ways that no one should ever. And, in those moments, retaliation can feel reasonable and owed to us. Withholding kindness can feel like self-protection. Getting even can feel like justice.

Paul speaks directly into that tension in 1 Thessalonians 5:15. He doesn’t leave room for exceptions or fine print. Instead, he challenges believers to refuse the cycle of harm altogether—not just by avoiding revenge, but by intentionally choosing good. That means resisting the urge to respond with the same tone, the same coldness, the same bitterness that was handed to us. Because no amount of revenge will ever give you the satisfaction you are looking for–only God can do that.

This kind of obedience is hard because it feels unfair. It asks us to give grace when we think someone doesn’t deserve it. But Scripture reminds us that love is not about what others have earned—it’s about who we belong to. When we repay evil with good, we are saying that our identity in Christ matters more than our right to retaliate.

Choosing good doesn’t mean ignoring boundaries or pretending hurt doesn’t exist. It means we refuse to let pain turn us into someone we’re not called to be. It means trusting God to handle justice while we focus on obedience. And in doing so, we reflect Jesus—who absorbed betrayal, rejection, and injustice, yet still chose love.

Living this out won’t always feel strong. Sometimes it will feel like surrender. But it is in these moments that our faith becomes visible—not in how loudly we worship, but in how we respond when love is costly.