Bless and Do Not Curse
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When someone hurts us, we want them to hurt back. When someone mistreats us, we want justice—or better yet, revenge. When someone speaks evil about us, we want to defend ourselves, to make sure everyone knows the truth, to make sure they pay for what they've done.
That’s why we recoil when we hear Paul’s words in today’s passage.
Let’s take a moment to read Romans 12:14:
"Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them"
REFLECT
Bless those who persecute you? Really, Paul? Not ignore them. Not set boundaries with them. Not protect yourself from them. Bless them. Speak good over them. Pray for their good. Refuse to curse them even when they've cursed you.
Let's be honest: everything in us wants to do the opposite. But Paul says: bless them. Don't curse them. Even when they deserve it. Even when you have every right to be angry. Even when they've wounded you deeply.
Why? Why does devotion require this?
Because resentment kills devotion faster than almost anything else. When you hold onto bitterness, when you rehearse the offense over and over, when you let anger take root in your heart, it doesn't just affect your relationship with the person who hurt you. It affects everything. It makes you cynical. It makes you guarded. It makes you less able to love anyone, because you're so consumed with protecting yourself from being hurt again.
This is what undermines devotion: unresolved expectations and unprocessed grief. We get hurt, and instead of bringing that pain honestly to God and working through it, we bury it. We pretend we're fine. We tell ourselves we've moved on. But underneath, the resentment is still there, quietly poisoning our ability to stay wholehearted.
So when Paul says "bless those who persecute you," he's not asking you to pretend the hurt didn't happen. He's not asking you to be a doormat or to stay in abusive situations. He's asking you to release the person to God instead of holding them in your anger. He's asking you to refuse to let their sin against you become your sin against them.
This is incredibly hard. Maybe impossible on your own. But this is where devotion as a function of love becomes critical. You can't bless your enemies in your own strength. You can only do it if you've been deeply loved by God, if you've received mercy you didn't deserve, if you've experienced the kind of forgiveness that changes everything.
When you know how much you've been forgiven, it becomes possible—not easy, but possible—to extend that same grace to others. To let go of the need for revenge. To trust that God will handle justice. To choose blessing over cursing, even when it costs you something.
So who do you need to stop cursing and start blessing? Maybe it's not verbal cursing. Maybe it's the way you talk about them in your head. The way you rehearse their faults. The way you wish harm on them, even if you'd never admit it out loud. Maybe it's time to bring that pain honestly to God and ask Him to help you release it.
RESPOND
Take a moment to process what God might be leading you to do in light of what you read.
Who have you been cursing (in your heart, if not with your words) instead of blessing?
What unresolved expectations or unprocessed grief might be fueling your resentment?
How has experiencing God's mercy and forgiveness made it possible for you to extend grace to others?
REST
Take a moment to rest in God’s presence and consider one thing you can take away from your time reading, then close your devotional experience by praying:
God, this is hard. I want justice. I want people to know how much they've hurt me. But You're asking me to bless instead of curse, to release instead of hold on. I can't do this on my own. Help me. Heal the hurt. Soften my heart. Give me grace to forgive as I've been forgiven. Amen.