Book: Peace of the Presence – Chapter 9: The Neighbor They Taught You to Hate
- Dr. Layne McDonald
- Jul 19
- 9 min read
"He answered, 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind'; and, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'" , Luke 10:27 (NIV)
We live in an era of engineered distance. Never before in human history has it been so easy to be "connected" to thousands of people while remaining utterly insulated from the humanity of our neighbors. Our digital landscape is not a neutral public square; it is a meticulously curated ecosystem governed by algorithms designed to maximize engagement. And, as we have learned through painful cultural experience, nothing drives engagement quite like outrage.
In this ninth installment of our Peace of the Presence series, we are forced to confront the most politically dangerous command Jesus ever gave. It is a command that directly sabotages the machinery of modern tribalism. It is the command to love the neighbor you have been taught to hate.
The Lawyer’s Loophole: "Who is My Neighbor?"
The scene in Luke 10:25-37 begins with a legal maneuver. A lawyer, an expert in the religious and social codes of the day, stands up to test Jesus. He asks the ultimate question: "Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?"
Jesus, as He often does, reflects the question back to the man’s own expertise. "What is written in the Law?" He asks. "How do you read it?"
The lawyer provides the correct Sunday-school answer. He quotes the Shema (Deuteronomy 6:5) and the command from Leviticus 19:18: Love God with everything you are, and love your neighbor as yourself. Jesus affirms him: "Do this and you will live."
But the lawyer isn't satisfied. The text tells us he wanted to "justify himself." To justify oneself in this context means to find the boundaries of the command so that one can be sure they have fulfilled it without having to do too much. He asks the question that every tribal algorithm since the beginning of time has tried to answer:
"And who is my neighbor?"
This question is a search for a loophole. It is the quest for a definition that excludes. If I can define "neighbor" narrowly enough, perhaps as "people who live on my street," "people in my political party," or "people who share my theology", then I can fulfill the command of love while still maintaining my right to despise everyone outside that circle.
The Modern Loophole: The Out-Group Algorithm
In the first century, the "algorithm" of the lawyer was built on purity codes and ethnic boundaries. In the twenty-first century, our algorithm is built on silicon and data points.
Every time you open your phone, an invisible hand begins sorting the world for you. It identifies your "in-group", the people who think like you, vote like you, and shop like you. Then, it identifies your "out-group." To keep you scrolling, the algorithm doesn't just show you what you like; it shows you what the "other side" is doing that should make you angry.
The algorithm replaces the specific person with a caricature. It takes a complex human being, created in the image of God (Genesis 1:27), with a family, a history of pain, and a soul, and reduces them to a label. Once they are a label, they are no longer a neighbor. They are an obstacle. They are a threat. They are someone it is "righteous" to hate.
When the lawyer asked, "Who is my neighbor?" he was asking for a category. Jesus responded by giving him a person.
The Samaritan Scandal: Breaking the First-Century Code
To understand the weight of Jesus’ response, we must strip away the "Sunday-school" polish from the story of the Good Samaritan. For Jesus’ audience, there was no such thing as a "good" Samaritan. The term was an oxymoron.
The hostility between Jews and Samaritans was centuries deep, rooted in religious schism and ethnic tension. They were the ultimate "out-group." They were the people the lawyer’s algorithm had pre-approved for exclusion.
Jesus tells of a man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho, a notoriously dangerous road, who is stripped, beaten, and left for dead. Two religious "insiders", a priest and a Levite, see the man and pass by on the other side. They likely had "logical" reasons. Perhaps they feared ritual defilement; perhaps they feared the robbers were still nearby. Their "algorithm" told them that their safety and their religious purity were more important than the dying man’s proximity.
Then comes the pivot. "But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him" (Luke 10:33).
The word for "pity" here in the Greek is splagchnizomai. It is a visceral word. It means his "insides moved." It wasn't a polite, distant sympathy; it was a gut-wrenching realization of shared humanity. The Samaritan didn't ask if the man was a Jew. He didn't ask how he voted on the regional issues of the day. He saw a body in the dirt and recognized a neighbor.
The Samaritan’s love was costly. He used his own oil and wine. He put the man on his own donkey. He spent his own money at the inn and promised to pay for any further expenses. He entered into the man’s suffering and took responsibility for his healing.
When Jesus finishes the story, He doesn't answer the lawyer’s question, "Who is my neighbor?" Instead, He asks a different one: "Which of these three do you think proved to be a neighbor to the man who fell among robbers?"
Jesus shifts the focus from identifying the neighbor to becoming the neighbor. The "neighbor" is not the person who is pre-approved by your tribe; the neighbor is the person whose need you are close enough to see.
Why Love is Politically Dangerous
The command to love your neighbor as yourself is the most politically dangerous instruction in the New Testament because it renders the "divide and conquer" strategies of the world useless.
In a world that profits from our polarization, a Christian who insists on seeing the humanity of their political "enemy" is a glitch in the system. If I am commanded to love my neighbor, even the one who stands on the opposite side of every cultural issue I hold dear, I can no longer be mobilized by hate.
The algorithm optimizes for engagement. It wants you to stay in a state of perpetual "fight or flight." It wants you to see the "other" as a monster so that you will keep clicking to see what the monster did today.
Jesus, however, optimizes for proximity. He calls us to move toward the pain, toward the person, and toward the mess. When we do this, the caricatures melt away. You cannot easily hate someone whose wounds you are bandaging. You cannot easily demonize someone whose children you have prayed for.
Within the framework of Assemblies of God theology, we believe in the sanctifying work of the Holy Spirit. This isn't just about avoiding personal sin; it is about the transformation of the heart so that we can reflect the character of Christ. If Jesus loved us while we were yet His enemies (Romans 5:8), then the hallmark of a Spirit-filled life is the ability to love our own enemies with that same supernatural grace.
From Caricatures to Characters
How do we break the algorithm? How do we begin to see our "neighbor" again?
First, we must recognize that we have been conditioned to see people as "types." We see "the liberal," "the conservative," "the immigrant," "the billionaire," or "the skeptic." We see them in low-resolution.
The Peace of the Presence requires us to slow down. It requires us to move from the digital abstract to the physical concrete. Love is not an emotion we feel for humanity in general; it is an action we take for a person in particular.
In our previous chapter on spiritual authority in the age of AI, we discussed how the noise of the world tries to drown out the voice of the Shepherd. Nowhere is this truer than in our relationships. The voice of the Shepherd says, "This is my son. This is my daughter. They are lost, they are hurting, and they are your brother or sister." The voice of the world says, "They are the enemy. They are the reason everything is wrong."
Practicing the Presence in the Proximity of Enemies
In John 13:34, Jesus gives a "new" command: "As I have loved you, so you must love one another." This is the standard. It’s not just loving people as much as we love ourselves (which is already a high bar); it is loving people with the sacrificial, boundary-crossing, "Samaritan" love of Jesus.
This kind of love is only possible if we are abiding in the Presence. In the Presence of God, our own identities are secured. We don't need to "win" every political argument to feel valuable. We don't need our tribe to be in power to feel safe. Our safety is in Him. From that place of security, we can afford to be vulnerable. We can afford to be the ones who reach across the aisle. We can afford to be the ones who listen without preparing a rebuttal.
Breaking the Out-Group Algorithm: A Practical Framework
The Algorithmic Way | The Way of the Presence |
Labels: Sees people as political or social categories. | Image: Sees people as Imago Dei (Image of God). |
Distance: Interacts only through screens and comments. | Proximity: Seeks face-to-face connection and service. |
Outrage: Fed by what the "other" does wrong. | Mercy: Moved by the suffering of the "other." |
Justification: Asks, "Who is my neighbor?" (The Loophole). | Responsibility: Asks, "To whom can I be a neighbor?" |
Practical Discipleship: Moving Toward the Neighbor
If we are to take this command seriously, it must move beyond theology and into our daily planners. Here are three ways to practice "Neighborly Presence" this week:
1. The Meal of Mercy
Find someone in your sphere, a neighbor, a co-worker, an extended family member, whose views you find difficult or even offensive. Invite them to a meal. Not a debate. Not a "let me explain why you're wrong" session. A meal. Ask about their story. Ask about their fears. Seek the person behind the caricature.
2. The Digital Fast of Honor
Stop saying online what you wouldn't say to someone’s face. Before you post that "zinger" or share that "outrage" article, ask yourself: Does this help me love my neighbor as myself? Does this treat the 'other' as a human being or as a target? If you find your peace is consistently robbed by digital tribalism, it may be time for a fast.
3. Prayer by Name
The algorithm wants you to pray against people. Jesus wants you to pray for them. Make a list of three people who represent "the enemy" to you, perhaps public figures or people in your life. Pray for them by name every day this week. Pray for their families, their health, and their soul. It is remarkably difficult to maintain hatred for someone you are consistently bringing before the throne of grace.
The Cost of the Presence
Choosing to love the neighbor they taught you to hate will cost you something. It might cost you status in your own tribe. It might cost you "likes" on social media. It will certainly cost you your pride.
But what you gain is the very heart of Jesus. When we become the neighbor to the wounded man in the dirt, we find that Jesus is already there. He is the original Good Samaritan. We were the ones stripped and beaten by sin, left for dead on the side of the road. He didn't ask if we were "worthy" of His help. He didn't check our political credentials. He saw our need, was moved with pity, and gave His very life for our healing.
To live in the Peace of the Presence is to live as one who has been saved by an "enemy." And once you have received that kind of mercy, you have no choice but to "go and do likewise."
Reflection Questions
When you hear the word "neighbor," who is the first person you think of? Who is the last person you think of?
In what ways has your "digital algorithm" shaped your view of people who disagree with you?
How does the knowledge that Jesus loved you while you were still His enemy change the way you view your current "enemies"?
What is one specific, practical step you can take this week to move toward someone the world says you should avoid?
A Closing Prayer
Heavenly Father, we confess that we have often sought the loophole rather than the person. We have asked "Who is my neighbor?" to avoid the cost of love. Forgive us for reducing Your image-bearers to caricatures and for allowing the algorithms of this world to dictate our hearts. Holy Spirit, sensitize our guts. Move us with pity for the brokenness we see in those we have been taught to hate. Give us the courage to be politically dangerous by being relentlessly merciful. Let our lives be a reflection of the Samaritan love of Jesus. In His name, Amen.
Layne McDonald, Ph.D., is a theologian, author, and researcher dedicated to helping believers navigate the complexities of modern culture with biblical wisdom and emotional intelligence. With a background in historical Christianity and a heart for discipleship, Dr. McDonald creates resources that bridge the gap between ancient truth and contemporary life. He is the author of numerous books, including Free Indeed, Sheep No More, and the Peace of the Presence series. His work is rooted in the belief that the Gospel of Jesus Christ provides the only true foundation for healing, discernment, and eternal purpose.
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Is there anyone in your life whose face makes your stomach tighten with anger: and what would happen to your faith if Jesus asked you to buy them dinner tonight?
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