The language of vengeance has become fluent in our time. It fills our feeds, our politics, our conversations. It thrives in the chants of rallies, the venom of comment threads, and the conversations of resentment at family tables. Its grammar is simple: They hurt us, so we must hurt them back. It promises strength, vindication, and balance. It seduces wounded hearts with the illusion of power. But what it delivers is far more sinister: the slow corrosion of our humanity, the distortion of our spirituality, and the unraveling of our common life.
The language of vengeance (whether used by the left, right, progressives, conservatives, or whoever) is dangerous because it’s extraordinarily permissive and offers a moral injunction for “holy or righteous” violence (which always ends up as dehumanizing, unholy, and unrighteous violence).[12] We must offer another language that reflects the life, sacrifice, and reconciliation of Jesus Christ.
Vengeance corrupts because it shrinks the other into a caricature. No longer neighbor, no longer image-bearer, but enemy. In this exchange, we lose more than we gain. When we fixate on settling scores, we mirror the very violence that wounded us. Bitterness hardens like ice around the soul until compassion freezes and joy disappears. Vengeance doesn’t heal the wound; it deepens it. It leaves scar tissue where tenderness might have grown.
It’s no surprise that vengeance also poisons the spirit. To harbor revenge is to kneel at a false altar, enthroning our pain as judge and executioner. We place ourselves in God’s seat, wielding judgment with clenched fists. But Scripture resounds with another word: “Vengeance is mine, says the Lord.”[1] Ultimate justice belongs not to our rage but to divine mercy. When we grasp for vengeance, we choke grace and cut ourselves off from the peace of prayer. The restless heart cannot listen to God while rehearsing hatred.
Nor is vengeance confined to individuals. It metastasizes into society itself. Nations speak it when leaders weaponize fear, when mobs are rallied to punish, when policies are built on retribution rather than restoration. A culture that glorifies vengeance always needs an enemy, and once it finds one, it cannot stop. Democracy withers. Justice bends. Neighbors become combatants. History is littered with the ruins of societies undone by vengeance’s tongue.
Into this world so fluent in revenge, Jesus Christ speaks another language. He names vengeance for what it is (a lie) and then offers the way of mercy. “You’ve heard it said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”[2] At the cross, he doesn’t curse his executioners but intercedes for their forgiveness. In that moment of unspeakable agony, he unmasks vengeance as powerless and reveals love as the only force that breaks the cycle of retribution.[3]
The way of Jesus isn’t naïve. It doesn’t deny evil. It confronts it with a weapon the world can’t comprehend: self-giving love. It resists oppression without mirroring it. It names violence without succumbing to it. It holds to truth without abandoning mercy. To speak the language of Christ is to declare that enemies are still neighbors, that wounds can be healed, that justice and compassion belong together.
Our world is thirsty for vengeance, but vengeance never quenches. Only living water does. The invitation of Jesus is clear: lay down the sword, loosen the tongue of hatred, and learn again the strange, disruptive, healing speech of grace. This is the word that restores our humanity, renews our spirituality, and rebuilds our fractured society.
To understand why vengeance-talk is so dangerous, we must see how it corrupts us from the inside out and how it spreads like wildfire through society.
“Vengeance always promises to heal the wound, but it never does. It only deepens the cut, leaving scar tissue where compassion might have grown.”
Poisoning the Heart: How Vengeance Corrupts Our Humanity
When we let vengeance guide our thoughts and words, something in us begins to twist. Our humanity (our capacity for empathy, compassion, and reason) starts to erode. Revenge language frames other people as one-dimensional villains rather than fellow human beings. In doing so, we also dehumanize ourselves. We begin to harden our hearts to empathy and mercy.
Resentment is like a cold anger that settles into the soul and hardens around the heart like ice. Living in a posture of vengeance, we gradually lose the ability to feel joy or kindness. Everything becomes an extension of the fight.
“The thirst for revenge doesn’t make us strong; it makes us smaller. The more we fixate on our enemies, the more we become their mirror image.”
Have you noticed how a person consumed by bitterness loses their spark? Their world shrinks to the score they must settle. Vengeance promises satisfaction but delivers a shriveling of the spirit. Instead of finding freedom, we become chained to past hurts. Our very identity can wrap around our wound until we define ourselves by opposition to an “enemy.” We often become the mirror image of what we hate.
But, answering hate with hate is no true resistance at all: we end up conquered by the very darkness we hoped to destroy. This is the tragic irony: the more we speak and live in vengeance, the more we come to resemble that which wronged us.
A Crisis of the Spirit: How Vengeance Corrupts Our Spirituality
The damage goes even deeper, to the level of the spirit. Harboring vengeance is utterly at odds with the life of the spirit; it pulls us away from Divine love. The core of Christian spirituality centers on transforming the heart toward love, mercy, and humility. But the language of vengeance is a spiritual toxin that breeds hatred and pride. When we thirst for revenge, we effectively shut the door to grace.
We’re taught “Vengeance is mine; I’ll repay,” says God. In other words, ultimate justice belongs to God, not us. Taking vengeance into our own hands (even if only in our speech and fantasies) puts us in God’s seat of judgment. This is a form of spiritual idolatry: making an idol of our own sense of justice. It warps our spiritual life into a hollow shell: we might still perform religious duties, but our hearts remain captive to anger.
Moreover, vengeance blocks us from genuine prayer. It’s hard to sincerely pray for our daily bread or for forgiveness while clinging to rage against others. And it’s impossible to experience the peace of the Holy Spirit while nursing thoughts of harm. Our souls become restless, agitated by the continuous replay of offense and retaliation.
“To speak vengeance is to pray to a false god. Every word of hatred we harbor builds an altar to our own pride, and every sacrifice on that altar drives us further from the living God.”
Spiritual leaders have long taught that love and hate can’t dwell in the same heart.[4] We have to choose which language our soul will speak. If we select vengeance, we drive out compassion and muffle the voice of God within us. We risk losing the very tenderness and openness that attune us to Christ’s voice. In short, vengeance corrupts our spirituality by cutting us off from the source of love and life.
The Social Cancer: How Vengeance Corrupts Society
The language of vengeance doesn’t stay confined to individual hearts; it spreads like a contagion through families, communities, political movements, and entire nations. When revenge becomes culturally acceptable, even applauded, the social fabric begins to unravel. We see it in our public discourse: opponents are demonized, and threats replace dialogue.
“A culture that speaks vengeance will always need an enemy. It can’t rest until it finds one, and once it does, it can’t stop until everyone becomes one.”
Vengeful rhetoric in the political arena encourages people to view their neighbors as enemies. We hear it when leaders at podiums vow “judgment day” for their rivals or brag, “this will be our revenge.” Crowds cheer, energized by the thrill of vanquishing a foe, but meanwhile, the common good is eroded. Even societies that fancy themselves peaceful are not immune when fear and anger are stoked.
This vengeful ethos can infect anyone (left or right, progressive or conservative, powerless or powerful): any group that decides another group is a threat or less than human. Once vengeance becomes the driving narrative, mercy and moderation are cast aside. Social divisions harden, and conflict escalates in a vicious cycle: one side’s retaliation becomes the next side’s provocation. History shows that blood feuds and tit-for-tat violence can persist for generations, destroying countless lives and opportunities for flourishing.
In broader society, the language of vengeance fuels policies of harsh retribution. Justice systems often prioritize punishment over restoration. Leaders justify war and violence as righteous crusades. Fear and rage are constantly inflamed because a community obsessed with vengeance always needs an enemy to blame.
Ultimately, communities lose their sense of shared humanity. People forget how to weep together or to see one another’s suffering as their own. Vengeance turns neighbors into combatants and makes peace nearly impossible. It’s truly a social cancer, eating away trust, empathy, and the possibility of healing.
The Way of Jesus: A Contradiction to Vengeance
Into this world so fluent in vengeance, Jesus of Nazareth spoke a radically different language. Everything about the way, message, and example of Jesus contradicts the language of vengeance. Where vengeance says, “Hate those who hurt you,” Jesus says, “Love your enemies.” Where vengeance demands, “Repay evil with evil,” Jesus teaches, “Overcome evil with good.”[5] He not only taught these principles in the Sermon on the Mount, but he lived them out in the most extreme way.
When Jesus was arrested, tortured, and nailed to a cross, he didn’t curse his executioners or call down doom upon them. Astonishingly, he prayed for their forgiveness, even excusing them: “They don’t know what they’re doing.”[6] In that moment of ultimate agony, he broke the cycle of vengeance with a word of mercy. This wasn’t weakness; it was a spiritual triumph of a completely different sort. Christian faith proclaims that on the cross, the power of vengeance was unmasked and defeated by the greater power of self-giving love. Jesus demonstrated that true strength is shown not in retaliation but in forgiveness and sacrificial love. His resurrection vindicated this way of mercy, declaring that ultimately life and love have the last word over death and hate.
“On the cross, Jesus unmasked vengeance as a fraud. He bore its full weight, answered it with mercy, and revealed that only love, not retribution, has the power to end the cycle.”
In following Jesus, the early Christian community embraced this new language. Amid a Roman culture built on honor and revenge, the first followers of Christ formed a counter-culture of forgiveness.[7] They remembered how Jesus said, “Put away your sword,” and “Turn the other cheek.” They took seriously his command to forgive “seventy times seven.”[8] This way of living was utterly perplexing to the surrounding society. Instead of fueling feuds, these people sought reconciliation. They even prayed for their persecutors and returned kindness for the cruelty they had endured. Such practices weren’t naive; they were revolutionary. A forgiving community throws a wrench into the expected gears of retaliation. It proclaims to the world that there’s another way to respond to evil.
The way of Jesus (this path of enemy-love and mercy) doesn’t deny the reality of evil or injustice. Instead, it confronts evil with a different weapon: not violence or revenge, but redemptive suffering and love. In doing so, it preserves our humanity and even has the power to transform the enemy. Time and again throughout history, oppressors have been changed because their would-be victims chose to respond with unexpected grace instead of vengeance. The path Jesus offers breaks the cycle of retribution by absorbing wrong and responding with creative love. His entire life modeled this prophetic, compassionate resistance to the culture of payback. And he invites us, here and now, to learn this new language in place of vengeance.
Living the Alternative: Practicing a Language of Grace
Knowing that another way is possible, how do we actually resist the language of vengeance in daily life? It takes intentional practice to unlearn the patterns that are so deeply ingrained in our culture and in our own hearts. Here are some practical ways we can oppose vengeance and offer a better alternative through our actions and words:
Cultivate Inner Mercy
Everything starts in the heart. Through prayer, contemplation, and honest self-examination, confront your own anger and pain. Instead of stoking resentment, bring your wounds to God and ask for grace to prefer healing over retaliation. Regular practices like silent meditation, journaling, or even praying for those who have hurt you can slowly disarm the power of vengeance within.
Watch Your Words
Commit to non-vengeful speech. Vengeance often first appears in how we talk about others: through sarcasm, harsh labels, or spiteful jokes. Practice speaking about opponents (or anyone who frustrates you) in a way that honors their humanity. Refuse to join conversations, whether in person or online, that are driven by hatred and revenge. We can still stand firmly for justice without resorting to dehumanizing language. By choosing words of truth and gentleness, we model a different tone in the public square.
Practice Forgiveness Daily
Forgiveness isn’t a one-time act but a discipline. In both minor annoyances and deep hurts, train yourself to let go of the “debt” you feel others owe you. This doesn’t mean ignoring wrongs or abandoning justice; it means releasing your personal vendetta. Remember that forgiveness ultimately means giving up your claim to revenge. In doing so, you set both yourself and the other person free, and you create space for God’s transforming work in both of you.
Pursue Restorative Justice
In the wider society, support approaches to justice that aim for restoration and reconciliation, not merely punishment. Whenever possible, advocate for responses to wrongdoing that seek healing over retribution. For example, some communities bring victims and offenders together for dialogue and mutual understanding, focusing on making things right rather than simply exacting punishment.[9] When we push for mercy within systems of justice, we help shift the culture away from vengeance and toward wholeness.
Learn from Witnesses of Grace
Fill your imagination with stories of people who chose compassion over revenge. Recall how an Amish community, after a terrible schoolhouse shooting, immediately forgave the shooter and even reached out to care for the shooter’s family in their grief.[10] Remember how the families of victims in a Charleston church stood up at a hearing and offered words of forgiveness to the assailant who had murdered their loved ones.[11] These acts of grace weren’t easy or weak: they were costly and courageous, and they stunned the world. Let such examples remind you that another spirit is possible. Draw courage and inspiration from those who have walked this path before us.
Build Communities of Peace
We need each other to sustain this counter-cultural way of life. Seek to foster a community (perhaps in a faith congregation, a prayer group, or simply among friends) where the language of grace is consistently practiced. Encourage one another to respond to conflicts with creativity and love, rather than with revenge. When tensions arise, be the one to say, “Let’s not rush to blame or retaliation; how can we bring healing?” Over time, such communities become a light in a vengeance-weary world: living proof that the cycle of hatred can be broken.
Finally, resisting the language of vengeance is a prophetic act in our world. It’s a refusal to conform to the endless cycle of retaliation and instead the courage to chart a new path. This path isn’t easy; it requires courage, faith, and often runs against our natural impulses. Yet it’s the path where our humanity is restored, our spirituality flourishes, and our society can find healing. In a world shouting for revenge, we’re called to be a different voice (kind but clear, firm but gentle, prophetic but gracious) speaking words of truth and mercy. We become, in effect, translators of heaven’s language here on earth, showing that love ultimately triumphs over hate.
“To resist vengeance isn’t to ignore injustice. It’s to fight it with weapons the world can’t understand: mercy, forgiveness, humility, patience, and a fierce love that refuses to surrender our humanity.”
The allure of vengeance is strong, tapping into our fears and wounds. But the call of Jesus is stronger still, inviting us to lay down the sword and pick up the cross. Every time we choose compassion over revenge, we participate in a little miracle. We break a chain that might have continued for generations. In doing so, we proclaim that evil doesn’t get the final word. This is the hope we cling to: that even in dark times, the light of mercy can shine through us.
May we, in our own spheres of influence, choose to speak life instead of death. May we renounce the language of vengeance that only corrupts and destroys. And may we boldly live out the language of grace, which has the power to heal our world.
Bibliography
Hawes, Jennifer Berry. Grace Will Lead Us Home: The Charleston Church Massacre and the Hard, Inspiring Journey to Forgiveness. New York: St. Martin’s, 2019.
Kraybill, Donald B. et al. Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2007.
Kreider, Alan. The Patient Ferment of the Early Church: The Improbable Rise of Christianity in the Roman Empire. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2016.
Merton, Thomas. New Seeds of Contemplation. New York: New Directions, 2007.
Zehr, Howard. The Little Book of Restorative Justice. Intercourse: Good Books, 2002.
References
[1] Deut 32:35; Rom 12:19.
[2] Matt 5:43–44.
[3] Luke 23:34.
[4] Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation.
[5] Matt 5:43–48; Rom 12:17–21.
[6] Luke 23:34.
[7] Kreider, The Patient Ferment of the Early Church.
[8] Matt 26:52; 5:38–39; 18:21–22.
[9] Zehr, The Little Book of Restorative Justice.
[10] Kraybill et al., Amish Grace.
[11] Hawes, Grace Will Lead Us Home.
[12] Ezra Klein makes this point about the language of vengeance and its permissiveness, as well as the moral injunction for violence, in the September 19, 2025, episode of the Ezra Klein Show, “Spencer Cox Wants to Pull Our Politics Back From the Brink.”
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