We Can Rejoice in God’s Justice Without Rejoicing in Suffering

Should we rejoice when God destroys our enemies?

It’s a profound and sobering question that sits at the intersection of justice and mercy, one that has stirred deep reflection throughout the ages. We see in Scripture two very distinct realities: on one hand, the celebration of God’s judgment upon evil; on the other, the call to love, pray for, and show compassion toward our enemies. How do we reconcile these two seemingly opposing postures in our Christian walk?

Let’s begin with the biblical basis for celebrating God’s justice. In Exodus 15, following the miraculous parting of the Red Sea, Moses and the Israelites sing a song of victory: “The horse and his rider he has thrown into the sea” (Exodus 15:1). It’s a triumphant moment where God's people recognize His power to save and His authority to judge. In the New Testament, this theme is echoed again in Revelation 19, where a multitude in heaven praises God for judging the great prostitute (symbolic of Rome and its wickedness): “Hallelujah! Salvation and glory and power belong to our God, for his judgments are true and just” (Revelation 19:1–2).

Yet alongside these praises for justice, Scripture is equally clear in calling believers to a heart of mercy. Proverbs 24:17–18 warns, “Do not rejoice when your enemy falls… lest the Lord see it and be displeased.” Job too speaks of the guilt in delighting over an enemy’s ruin (Job 31:29). And then there’s the unmistakable command of Jesus in Luke 6:27–28: “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.”

So how do we hold both realities together God’s justice and our call to mercy?

The key lies in distinguishing between rejoicing in the vindication of God’s righteousness and rejoicing in the personal suffering of our enemies. These are not the same. To celebrate the justice of God is to affirm His holiness, His purity, and His authority to judge sin. But to take personal delight in another’s downfall especially when motivated by vengeance or pride is condemned by Scripture.

Charles Bridges, in his commentary on Proverbs, makes a useful observation: “How different is this sublime sympathy in the triumph of the Church, from the malignant joy of private revenge!” In other words, heaven’s rejoicing is never fueled by hatred or vengeance, but by the recognition that God has acted justly, faithfully, and righteously.

This distinction is not always easy to maintain. In fact, our sinful nature often blurs the lines. When we’ve been hurt, betrayed, or oppressed, it feels natural even satisfying to see justice served. But what’s often missed is the inner temptation to exalt ourselves above others, relishing not God's justice, but our own vindication.

That’s why Romans 12:19–20 is so pivotal. “Never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God… ‘if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink.’” God is not indifferent to evil. He will judge. But we are not to take vengeance into our own hands. Instead, we’re called to be agents of mercy in a fallen world.

Consider this analogy: Should we rejoice over the crucifixion of Jesus? In one sense, yes because it was the ultimate act of love and the clearest demonstration of God’s justice and mercy intertwined. But in another sense, no because it was also an act of brutal torture and unimaginable suffering. From one angle, the cross is our salvation; from another, it is a tragedy of injustice. And yet both are true at once.

Similarly, we rejoice in the justice of God, even when it includes the eternal judgment of the wicked, because it confirms His righteousness. But we also weep, because hell is not a place to be celebrated, and eternal separation from God is never to be wished upon anyone. As 2 Peter 3:9 tells us, God is “not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.”

That truth should shape our posture sorrow for the lost, prayer for the hardened, and rejoicing in a God who is just even when His justice is hard to comprehend.

This doesn’t mean pacifism in all things. It also doesn’t justify vengeance in our hearts. Rather, it calls us to live with a sober awareness of both mercy and justice. God's people can, and should, praise Him when He acts in judgment not with a heart of gloating, but with reverence, awe, and humility. In doing so, we align ourselves not with the spirit of revenge, but with the spirit of Christ, who wept over Jerusalem even as it faced impending destruction (Luke 19:41–44).

It’s not easy to balance these two truths. But it is biblical.

In the end, our joy must rest in the fact that God is perfectly just and perfectly merciful and that His ways, though higher than ours, are always right.

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