Revenge Is Impossible
Go Ahead, Prove Me Right (Things That Matter #17)
Here, take this pill, maybe grab a glass of water, and on the count of three, swallow this hard truth: 1…2…3…: getting revenge is impossible. I don’t mean difficult. I don’t mean challenging. I don’t even mean chasing it is unwise. I mean it’s impossible. You can plan for revenge, fantasize about it, binge on mental scenarios like it’s a Netflix limited series, but you’ll never actually know if you actually got it. Ever!
When it comes to revenge, there’s no scoreboard. There’s no final whistle. There’s no judge who stops life and shouts, “Nailed it! That’ll show ‘em!” There’s nothing like that. That’s why I say this is one of the hardest emotional and psychological pills to swallow. This isn’t like a Flintstone Vitamin. This is not a tiny gel cap. This is one of those giant, chalky horse pills you have to break in half and still nearly choke on.
We’ve all felt the urge for revenge though, the deep burning urge to get even. We’ve all wanted to make someone else feel the sting like we did, if not even more. We’ve all had that desire to want to teach someone who did us dirty a lesson. We’ve all wanted to give our enemies a dose of their own medicine. And sometimes we’ve acted. But what good did it actually do? None.
Several months back, I had a fellow comedian come at me hard in front of many other comedians. He did it in public. He attempted to humiliate me. I confronted him in the parking lot after and, thankfully, it didn’t go anywhere beyond that. Well, it kind of did. For several days, I kept replaying the scene in my head. I thought about good comebacks that would’ve humiliated him and made me look clever. I thought about trying to call him out in public in the future.
At one point, however, I just let it go. Ahhh…how freeing that was! Fast-forward a few weeks later. We ended up on the same lineup at a 2-night comedy show. This would be the first time seeing each other since the event. At the end of the first night, he came up to me and said, “Good job tonight!” I said the same. I was glad we were in a good enough spot to be able to do that. What happened next shocked me. He goes, “Hey man, listen, if there are any hard feelings about what happened a few weeks ago, I’m sorry about that.” I said, “No problem. I appreciate that though.”
Wow! I would’ve NEVER expected that from this particular guy. But there it was. Had I tried to go savage revenge mode on him, that would’ve never happened. But in due course, he came around to recognizing he’d done wrong. And he sought to repair the relationship. And I accepted that apology and repair attempt and now we’re good. The only way that could’ve gone better is the incident never having happened in the first place. But it did. So, this was the next best option. My point here is: there was space for reconciliation because I hadn’t chased after revenge.
A year and a half ago, I was working through a sermon series and found myself waist-deep in stories from a book about families who had lost loved ones to murder. You’d expect those families to want revenge. But over and over again, they said the same thing: it solves nothing. Killing someone who killed someone just gives you more killing. That’s not justice. That’s just a horror sequel.
And the worst part? Now they have to live with it. They talked about how seeing someone else put in an electric chair followed them and haunted them for the rest of their lives. What justice is there in that? None. It’s just sad. And that sorrow and sadness now sits with them in the room with you while they eat. It curls up beside them when they try to sleep. It’s tortuous.
Honestly, even as a pro-life guy through and through, womb to tomb, I don’t know how they found the strength to say, “Let the guy live.” But I do know it took more courage than most of us can imagine. Like, I can barely muster any of that courage when someone cuts me off in the Walmart parking lot. Yet, Scripture is clear: “Vengeance is mine, says the Lord.” Ugh! That verse!!! Again, a hard pill to swallow.
Why? Because, have you seen how slowly God tends to move? The lady on the Walmart scooter moves faster than God sometimes! As with Amazon, I want divine retribution with same-day delivery. I want zapping lightning bolts on layaway. But that’s not how it works; and, evidently, it’s not how God works. The God of grace and mercy and longsuffering isn’t in a rush to make someone else suffer just because I’m still stewing over what they said last Tuesday.
When it comes to revenge, I’d say many of us have it lurking just under the hood. And sometimes, it manifests itself in really small ways, so small we might not even notice (which makes it also harder to admit). It’s the quiet, barely audible laugh when someone gets put on blast in a meeting and you think they deserve it. It’s the slight smirk when the person who wronged you trips over their own feet and everyone lets out a roar. The real danger here is: revenge can become a god we worship.
Recently, I saw a news story that made my stomach turn. A father whose son was killed by a police officer tracked down and killed a cop. I don’t think it was even the officer who killed his son. Just another cop. In the courtroom, as he walked by in his orange jumpsuit and chains, he stared down the rest of the officers like he was still hunting. But now he’s in prison forever. He may be executed. And his wife? She’s lost her son and now her husband. And she’ll probably lose her mind or die of a broken heart trying to survive both.
Revenge didn’t bring that dad peace. If it had, he wouldn’t have still been mean-mugging everyone in a badge that he passed by. It didn’t quiet his ache. It made it louder. And it made his wife’s infinitely louder. That’s what revenge really does. It multiplies pain and hands you the bill and you always overpay and sometimes subscribe and keep paying.
I’ve wanted revenge. Oh, believe me. I’ve rehearsed speeches in the shower that would send people into an emotional tailspin for three generations. I’ve imagined comebacks so powerful they might register on the Richter scale. But every time I’ve actually chased revenge all it has done is leave me emptier, colder, and less like the Jesus I claim to follow.
I suppose that’s one reason why I burn bridges instead.1 I don’t do it out of spite usually, but mostly out of mercy. Mercy for me and the other(s). Some bridges are better left as ashes. In those cases, it’s not about revenge but freedom. When you choose not to retaliate, which is often a very hard choice, you stop letting someone else live rent-free in your heart-mind and soul. And if I’ve learned anything it’s that, if someone is living rent-free in your thought world, they’re also never paying utilities.
The other hard-to-swallow part of this is a truth that most people don’t want to admit: offense is a choice. I’m serious. People do NOT want to accept or admit this. They will argue it and fight it; it’s a hill they will die on, even if ignorantly. But I stand by the claim that being hurt and offended and upset and the like is a choice. Just like not being hurt is a choice. We each have the ability and capacity to choose to let people and things hurt us or not.
Don’t get me wrong: I don’t mean that pain isn’t real. It certainly is. But I do mean that entering it and staying in it is strictly voluntary. You can carry pain around like a badge and use it as a victim card or you can set it down and start healing. Most folks won’t tell you that, though, because they’re too busy turning their trauma into a brand. They love it. Mostly because, for as long as they can play the victim, they get to have some control over others.
But if you want to be free, you have to a) stop wanting to control others; and, b) stop keeping score. There’s no scoreboard when it comes to forgiveness. There’s no replay review in this. Just like there’s no actual trophy for who suffered most, no MVP. There’s just the long, slow, beautiful, hard work of letting go. And, believe it or not, there’s something deeply satisfying in trusting that justice doesn’t always look like payback. Sometimes it just ends up looking like peace.
And maybe that’s the hardest part of all. Realizing that walking away is the big win. And admitting that, if vengeance really is the Lord’s, then maybe our job is just to stop trying to play God. So, next time you’re dealing with some jerk, idiot, hater, troll, abuser, power-monger, manipulator, gas-lighter, etc., remember this as you’re walking away: sometimes revenge is just realizing that person has to continue being that person. And that there, well…that’s a pill I can swallow.
For my thoughts on bridge-burning and other life principles, see these links: Bridge-Burning isn’t Always Bad; Laughter is Greater Than Outrage; Beating Crap-Talkers; Dealing with Criticism; Loyalty is Everything; Don’t Let the Sun Set on Problems; Not Lusting After Victimhood; and, Advocate for Yourself.