A Call to Do No Harm
One of the most consistent themes throughout Scripture is the call to love our neighbors and do them good—not harm. Philippians 4:5 urges us to “let your gentleness be evident to all,” and this gentleness is not passive—it’s active, intentional, and rooted in love. Harming others is the opposite of loving them. It’s a manifestation of sin, and it leaves a trail of pain in its wake.
A little prayer in 1 Chronicles
4:10 gets to the heart of this: "And Jabez called out to the God of
Israel, 'If only You would bless me and enlarge my territory! May Your hand be
with me and keep me from harm, so that I will be free from pain.'"
Jabez, whose name means one who
causes pain, is asking to be kept from sinning or harming another, so that he
would not experience the painful consequences.
This leaves me wondering about the intent of his prayer. Was he praying to be kept from sin because he
wanted to avoid pain or was he praying to be free from harming others out of compassion?
As earlier in the prayer Jabez was
asking God to bless and enlarge his territory, it seems that he is most likely
praying this out of compassion and care.
A prayer of enlarging of his territory, is praying to be stretched,
which is painful. As the Backlund’s would say, great faith comes from great
fights. Great testimonies from great tests
and great triumphs from great trials.
He realized from birth that he had the
capacity to cause others harm and desired greatly not to do this, so God
answered his prayer. As a result of this, he was honored above his
brothers. His restraint in not causing
others harm made him weightier--respected, great, and rich inside.
We all have the ability to harm
others—through words, attitudes, even body language. I once worked a suicide
hotline and received weekly calls from a woman devastated by her twin sister’s
cruel words. One day, after a particularly painful exchange, she took her life.
The tragedy was unbearable. And I often wonder how her sister felt, realizing
her words had inflicted such irreversible damage.
I’ve also experienced bullying
firsthand. As a child, I was picked on for my weight. One boy, eager to impress
the popular girls, pushed me off my bike and beat me up. The trauma lingered. I
didn’t just feel unsafe—I began to see others as potential threats rather than
possible friends.
Years later, that same boy reached
out on Facebook. He never apologized directly, but I sensed regret. I chose to
honor his desire to change. Sometimes, people remember only the harm done to
them—not the harm they’ve caused. But healing begins when we take
responsibility.
I love that Step 8 of AA is to
examine our lives and look at those we have harmed—reaching out to make amends.
While we cannot control if someone will accept an apology, there is something
powerful and healing in making amends, attempting to repair the damage that we
caused in the past.
Here is how to begin:
- Reflect on your relationships and identify those you
may have harmed.
- Define the “harm” you caused them—emotional,
physical, psychological, or financial.
- Examine the traits that contributed to your
actions—were you critical, impatient, neglectful, or self-absorbed?
- Apologize to the person and make amends the best you
can. Acknowledge their pain and take ownership
for you’re your mistakes. If the
person has a tendency to be harmful themselves, apologize in a letter and mail
it to them.
- Recognize that sometimes the harm to others is less
than you thought, but the harm to yourself was greater. Don’t beat yourself up over past choices
but bring it before God, forgiving yourself and inviting His healing
power. Speak life and forgiveness
over yourself.
This process brings healing. It
shifts us from blame to responsibility, and from shame to restoration.
There is something about reaping
what we sow. When our words cause other’s
harm, we reap out of this into our own lives.
We are harmed. We open the door
to the wrong kingdom and invite chaos and damage to ourselves.
Jesus was the complete opposite of
this. As the people wanted Him to be crucified,
the most painful sort of death, He willingly paid for their and our sin. He brought healing to the pain. And knowing people reap out of what they sow,
He asked for forgiveness for them.
Recently, the Lord gave me a word
in my sleep: anodyne. It means something that soothes or relieves pain.
It also refers to something inoffensive—gentle, healing, safe.
We are called to be anodyne to
others. When people lash out, it’s often from pain. Their cruelty stems from
deficiency, not sufficiency. Our response isn’t retaliation—it’s compassion.
Years ago, I worked beside a woman
who had been demoted from the role I was hired into. She was bitter and
accusatory, twisting my words and making work feel like high school all over
again. That Christmas, I asked the Lord what I could give Him. He told me to
write her an apology letter and fast for her over the holiday.
It felt unbearable. But I obeyed.
When she returned, she was transformed. Not long after, she was promoted
again—and invited me to her celebration. That’s the power of being an anodyne. It is looking past our own pain and hurt to
see others in their challenges, always seeking their good. It is
pouring hot coals on their head to warm their hearts and share the undeserved
goodness that we receive everyday ourselves from the Lord.
This brings me to my last point. In the camp of the Israelites, there were not
those who came to the tent to enjoy worship and others who came to serve. All were called to serve. Everyone had a place they were called into. It was in the serving of others that they
became an anodyne.
Everyone has a place to serve in
God’s Kingdom. There is not to be this
separation of those who receive and those who give. It is in giving that we receive. God calls everyone to this place of serving
others and bringing healing to the world.
Lord Jesus, forgive us where we
have caused others Pain. If only You
would bless us and enlarge our territory! May Your hand be with us and keep us from
causing harm, so that we will be free from pain.
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