Justice for an Enemy

Over the years, I cultivated anger and tended it like a wound I would not allow to heal. My enemy had made sure there was always something to feed it.

For a long time, hatred made life simple. It became my armor and my answer to every wrong. I could recount each offense with painful clarity: the betrayal, the lies, the cruelty. Keeping the anger alive felt easier than risking the vulnerability forgiveness might bring. Every new mistake added fuel to the fire and another brick to the wall between us.

Then, one day, something changed.

News spread that my enemy had done something admirable—a selfless act that helped many people and could not honestly be ignored. Praise traveled through the town, but I found myself unable to join it. My lips remained closed, and my heart resisted what everyone else could see.

Why was it so easy to amplify the wrongs and so difficult to acknowledge the good? Was justice not meant to be fair? Should I not feel the same conviction when recognizing what was right as I felt when condemning what was wrong?

My inner voice resisted. Years of bitterness had hardened into a wall, and recognizing the good in my enemy felt like a betrayal of my own pain. Yet another question rose beneath that resistance: if I was willing to condemn the bad, should I not also be willing to applaud the good?

The injustice of my own heart became clear. How could I claim to seek fairness while refusing to recognize it in an unexpected place? Could I not feel even a small measure of joy when good came from a hand that had once harmed me?

The thought weighed heavily on my chest. Perhaps my enemy was no longer the only problem. Perhaps the harder battle had moved within.