The Best Revenge Is Not to Be Like Your Enemy
Marcus Aurelius once wrote in his private journal, Meditations, “The best revenge is not to be like your enemy.” He wasn’t writing for an audience. These were reminders to himself, a Roman emperor surrounded by betrayal, backstabbing, and hostility. He knew what it was like to be wronged. But instead of feeding the endless cycle of hate, he reminded himself of this: if you mirror the wrong, you’ve already lost.
That brief sentence captures a truth that goes deeper than philosophy. It’s really about freedom. If I let someone else’s cruelty make me cruel, or their lies make me bitter, or their betrayal make me vengeful, then I’ve let them win twice. They hurt me once by their actions, and then again by shaping me into their likeness.
The Stoics believed that your character was the only thing fully in your control. Everything else, circumstances, people, and outcomes, was beyond your grasp. You can’t stop others from being cruel, but you can keep cruelty from taking root in your own heart.
When I read that, I hear an echo of something far greater. Scripture puts it like this:
“Recompense to no man evil for evil… Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good” Romans 12:17, 21.
Jesus went even further:
“Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you” Matthew 5:44.
And here is the difference: the gospel isn’t just good advice, it’s good news. You don’t have to grit your teeth and act better than your enemy. Christ Himself lives in you. His love in you is stronger than hate around you. His forgiveness in you is greater than bitterness pressing on you. You’re not just resisting becoming like your enemy, you’re being transformed to be like Him.
But here is the hard truth most of us don’t want to hear: forgiveness means laying down your right to get even. It means letting God be the judge instead of taking that role yourself. And that cuts deep, because holding on to anger feels like holding on to justice. Yet the longer you hold it, the more it poisons your soul.
I had to learn this the hard way. When accusations left me isolated and broken, I thought the worst pain was losing friends. But the real danger was what was happening inside me. My heart grew bitter. I replayed the hurt again and again until I couldn’t see anything else. That was the pit I was stuck in.
But in that pit, God whispered what He has whispered since the cross: “It is finished. No need to fight for your vindication. I am your defender. I am your life.” That’s when I began to see that forgiveness wasn’t about excusing anyone’s actions. It was about refusing to let their evil dictate who I was. The best revenge wasn’t getting even, but resting in the proof that grace had already won.
And make no mistake, this kind of forgiveness isn’t cheap. It will feel like death to your pride. It will feel like injustice unchecked. But the moment you forgive, you are no longer bound to your enemy. You are free. Free to heal. Free to love. Free to move on without carrying their offense in your heart.
Marcus Aurelius caught a glimpse of this truth with human wisdom. But the gospel takes it further. Jesus didn’t just tell us not to be like our enemies. He bore the hatred of His enemies and turned it into the victory of love. On the cross, He showed us that evil doesn’t get the last word. Love does.
So maybe the real question isn’t, “How do I get even?” but “Who am I becoming?”
Do not let someone else’s darkness decide your character. Do not let hatred turn you into a hater. The best revenge is to live so deeply rooted in Christ’s love that even the worst wrongs cannot change who you are.