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Romans 12:9-21 New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition

⁹ Let love be genuine; hate what is evil; hold fast to what is good; ¹⁰ love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor. ¹¹ Do not lag in zeal; be ardent in spirit; serve the Lord. ¹² Rejoice in hope; be patient in affliction; persevere in prayer. ¹³ Contribute to the needs of the saints; pursue hospitality to strangers.

¹⁴ Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. ¹⁵ Rejoice with those who rejoice; weep with those who weep. ¹⁶ Live in harmony with one another; do not be arrogant, but give yourselves to humble tasks; do not claim to be wiser than you are. ¹⁷ Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. ¹⁸ If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. ¹⁹ Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine; I will repay, says the Lord.” ²⁰ Instead, “if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink, for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.” ²¹ Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

Excerpt from A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of A Course in Miracles

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,

talented and fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other

people won’t feel insecure around you.

We were born to make manifest the glory of

God that is within us.

It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine,

we unconsciously give other people

permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear,

Our presence automatically liberates others.”

— Marianne Williamson

I love this passage from Paul’s Letter to the Romans for its upbeat practicality. In this letter, Paul does not spend a lot of time telling us what we’re supposed to believe. He concentrates on telling us how we are supposed to live.

Love one another. Be honorable. Be patient. Persevere. Welcome strangers. Rejoice with those who rejoice; weep with those who weep. Live in harmony. Be humble. Be noble. Live peaceably. 

That all sounds beautiful. And it is all incredibly difficult. Because we know what it feels like to be hurt. And we know what it feels like to be disrespected. To be misunderstood. To be treated unfairly.

Paul is suggesting that we do not let the behavior of others determine who we become. That takes an inner depth and strength of character that we need to develop over time. It is not simply a question of how we respond when people are kind to us. But: Who are we going to be when someone is mean, hateful, or discriminatory toward us? 

Paul begins these verses by saying, “Let love be genuine.” And then Paul tells us what genuine love looks like. It looks like honoring people. It looks like hospitality. It looks like showing up when somebody is hurting. It looks like celebrating somebody else's joy without being jealous of it. It looks like humility.

Let’s pause on that word—humility.

Marianne Williamson writes: “We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.” And then she says: “It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone.” I love that. Because it means that humility isn't about making ourselves smaller. It's about making room. Making room for another person's dignity. Another person's story. Another person's pain. Another person's wisdom. Another person's light.

And maybe that is why Paul tells us not to think we're wiser than we really are. Because the moment we decide that we already know everything about someone else—who they are, why they think the way they think, what they are really like—we have stopped making room for them.

And, of course, that is dangerous. Because none of us should be reduced to the labels we put on one another.

Back to my earlier question, who are we going to be when someone is mean, hateful, or discriminatory toward us?

There is a poem often associated with Mother Teresa. The original was actually written by Kent Keith and is titled, “The Paradoxical Commandments.” It often gets credited to Mother Teresa because it was inscribed on the wall of her Children's Home in Calcutta.  

Kent Keith wrote this:

People are often unreasonable, illogical and self-centered; Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives; Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;

Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you; Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight; Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous; Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow; Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;

Give the world the best you've got anyway.

That is where Kent Keith’s poem ends and the inscription at the home in Calcutta has this additional stanza…

You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and your God;

It was never between you and them anyway.

There is something profoundly powerful about that word: anyway. 

I will love—anyway. I will forgive—anyway. I will tell the truth—anyway. I will welcome—anyway. I will work for justice—anyway.

Because we can refuse to let someone else's behavior decide who we become.

In these verses of his Letter to the Romans, Paul also says:

“If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.”

I appreciate those qualifications. “If it is possible.” and “So far as it depends on you.” Because peace doesn't always depend on us. We cannot control another person's choices. We cannot repair every relationship. We cannot make every injustice disappear. And Christian love does not mean putting up with abuse. It does not mean staying silent when someone is being harmed. Sometimes love means drawing a boundary, or telling the truth, or standing with the person who has been pushed aside, or resisting injustice.

And then we come to what I find to be the most troubling section of this scripture. Paul says: “Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine; I will repay, says the Lord.”

For generations, some Christians have believed those words to mean that God is going to punish the people who have wronged us. However, I do not believe that the God Jesus reveals to us is waiting for the opportunity to punish our enemies. Jesus reveals a God that loves unconditionally; a God that seeks justice for all. The Book of Deuteronomy, which was the basis for both Jesus and Paul to include this “Vengeance is mine…” in their teachings, has this note in my study bible: “Vengeance, [here, is better defined as] ‘vindication,’ since the idea is not revenge but justice.” 

That helps… but then comes this confusing directive. ²⁰ Instead, “if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink, for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.”

That's a strange strategy. But maybe that is the point. Because if I respond to your cruelty with cruelty, what have I accomplished? There are simply two wounded people making the world a little more wounded. But if I interrupt the cycle—if I refuse to return evil for evil—something new becomes possible.

That doesn't mean we excuse evil. It doesn't mean we pretend injustice doesn't exist. It means we refuse to let evil recruit us into creating more evil. We don't become what we're fighting against.

And that brings us to Paul's final words: “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” Overcome evil. With good. With courage. With truth. With compassion. With justice. With love in action.

Michelle Obama famously said: “When they go low, we go high.” Perhaps more than a political slogan this can be understood as a spiritual practice. “Going high” does not mean being passive. “Going high” does not preclude us from standing up for what is right. “Going high” keeps us from becoming what we are fighting against.

I will leave you with some questions that Paul’s Letter to the Romans puts before us today: What does your love do? Who does it make room for? Who does it feed? Who does it welcome? Whose grief does it share? Whose joy does it celebrate? Where does it tell the truth? Where does it refuse revenge? Where does it interrupt a cycle of fear or hatred? 

And another important question: How are you growing your love?

Because evil is very good at reproducing itself. Fear creates more fear. Violence creates more violence. Contempt creates more contempt.

But love can reproduce itself, too. One act of kindness can make another possible. One person choosing courage can give another person courage. One person allowing their light to shine can give someone else permission to stop hiding theirs.

That is the kind of community we strive to be. Not a community of perfect people. Not a community where everyone agrees. Not a community that never gets angry, disappointed, or hurt. But a community that says: We will not let fear have the last word. We will not let hatred have the last word. We will not let cruelty have the last word. We will keep welcoming. We will keep feeding. We will keep telling the truth. We will keep working for justice. We will keep loving. Anyway.

Because the good we do matters. Because love is stronger than we imagine.

And because Paul reminds us:

We do not overcome evil by becoming better at evil.

We overcome evil by becoming better at love.

Amen

Rev. TJ Mack – August 30, 2026 

Union Congregational Church of Hancock