Loving Our Enemies: Even Osama bin Laden?

I learned Sunday night, via a late-night visit to Facebook before bed, that Osama bin Laden—leader of the terrorist organization responsible for the attack on the World Trade Center—had been killed. The myriad comments from the folks to whom I’m connected on Facebook ranged from happy to downright ecstatic.  Justice had been served, to be sure, but the euphoria was of a far greater magnitude than I’d expected.  A local radio station informally polled visitor to its web site, asking the question, “What should the U.S. have done with bin Laden's body?” (bin Laden was buried at sea). The majority voted that his head should be displayed on a pike at the Brooklyn Bridge. And, if you’d asked me the same question Saturday before the announcement was made that Osama had finally been killed, I’d have most likely agreed. But I found something very disconcerting about the reaction to the news of bin Laden’s death.

Justice, I think, is a concept with which I have a great deal of trouble grasping. To reiterate, I see the justice in the killing of Osama bin Laden. At the same time, though, I'm forced to ponder the tricky question of whose responsibility it is to mete out that justice. I also have to face head-on the fact that—if Osama deserves death and an eternity in Hell—so then, do I. I have been saved from that fate by my faith in Jesus Christ as my savior, but gloating over the fact that Osama is dead—and thus has no more chances to escape damnation—just doesn't seem like the right way to honor the gift of salvation that I’ve received.

One of the most glorious aspects of God’s character is that He loved us “while we were still sinners” (Romans 5:8, NIV), and continues to love us even as we screw up and turn our face from Him again and again.  Sufjan Stevens’ haunting song about serial killer John Wayne Gacy, Jr. ends with the singer’s convicting introspection:  “And in my best behavior, I am really just like him. Look beneath the floorboards for the secrets I have hid.” Stevens offers a painful reminder that, despite my best attempts to be pious and serve God, I am no more righteous than anyone else, even the most deviant, gruesome mass murderers.  So, it certainly doesn’t seem “just” or “fair” that God loves Osama bin Laden as much as He loves me... until, that is, I remember that my sins have separated me from God to as great an extent as did bin Laden’s.  If bin Laden doesn’t deserve to be forgiven, than neither do I. If bin Laden deserves an eternity in Hell, than so do I.  But for the grace of God, I’d burn with bin Laden. So I find myself mourning the fact that he never knew the grace and love that I know, rather than celebrating the fact that he never will.

Jesus himself, while hanging on the cross, prayed for his tormenters: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34, NIV). I can’t help but think that my attitude toward bin Laden’s death should match more closely that of Jesus on the cross.  I can’t say that I ever prayed for Osama while he was alive... but, now that he’s dead, I find myself—in many ways—wishing that I had. And I’d be lying if I said that didn’t shock me to some extent.

What do you think?