When We Make People the Villain

Yesterday, my daughter called me frustrated.

She’s in a naval training program, and because she’s far from home, opportunities to spend time with family are precious. One of her instructors had given her a hard time about trying to see her family while they were in town, and she was struggling not to be angry.

At one point, she asked me:

“How do I not be so angry at someone? Jesus calls us to love, but I don’t want to love this person.”

I didn’t have some profound answer ready to go, but I told her something I’ve always believed: Show kindness even when it isn’t deserved.

Not because the other person earned it.
Not because they’re right.
But because kindness says more about your character than theirs.

Later, I told my husband about the conversation.

His response was… let’s just say he wasn’t nearly as charitable toward the instructor as I had been.

I laughed and said, “Well, it’s a good thing she called me and not you.”

At the time, I felt pretty good about my response.

Then today, I read a chapter in Ryan Leak’s How to Work with Complicated People about how we turn difficult people into villains.

And wouldn’t you know it? The chapter wasn’t really about my daughter’s instructor.

It was about me.

Sure, my husband had gone further than I had. But if I’m honest, I had already decided who this guy was, too. Maybe not a full-blown villain, but definitely the antagonist.

I had heard a few stories, drawn a few conclusions, and mentally placed him into a category.

The more I thought about it, the more I wondered why we do that.

Why are we so quick to decide we know someone’s character based on a handful of interactions or conversations?

Why does our heart seem to want villains?

Maybe it’s because villains make life easier. When someone hurts us, or someone we love, we want an explanation. We want clearly defined good guys and bad guys. We want to know who’s right and who’s wrong.

But maybe there’s something deeper.

Sometimes, making someone the villain lets us off the hook.

If they’re the bad guy, then my anger feels justified.
My assumptions feel justified.
My lack of grace feels justified.

And that’s where the Holy Spirit started nudging me.

Maybe one of the problems is that we’ve reduced love to a feeling. We reserve it for people we like, people we enjoy, and people who make life easier. The rest we tolerate.

But Jesus didn’t seem to make that distinction. The people He told us to love included enemies, critics, and people who were difficult to understand.

Maybe love isn’t measured by how warmly I feel toward someone. Maybe it’s measured by how I choose to treat them when I don’t feel warmly toward them at all.

Love isn’t always affection.
Love isn’t agreement.
Love isn’t pretending someone is right when they’re wrong.

Sometimes, love looks like patience. Sometimes, it looks like extending grace. Sometimes, it means treating someone with dignity when they’ve done nothing to earn it.

And sometimes, love is simply refusing to assume the worst about someone.

Because Jesus didn’t say, “Love people who deserve it.”

He didn’t say, “Show kindness after you’ve determined they’re a good person.”

He simply told us to love.

That doesn’t mean excusing bad behavior. It doesn’t mean pretending someone is right when they’re wrong. And it certainly doesn’t mean becoming a doormat.

It means refusing to let someone else’s actions determine the condition of my heart.

The truth is, I have no idea why this instructor is the way he is. Maybe he’s exactly as my daughter describes him. Maybe there’s a story we know nothing about.

Either way, the bigger issue isn’t him.

The bigger issue is what his behavior brings out in me.

My daughter asked how not to be angry, and a day later, God was showing me that I wasn’t as far removed from that anger as I thought.

Maybe that’s how He works sometimes.

We think He’s teaching us about someone else when He’s really teaching us about our own hearts.

Random Thought: Maybe grace isn’t pretending people are better than they are. Maybe it’s remembering they’re more than the worst thing we’ve decided about them.

And maybe loving people isn’t about feeling warmly toward them at all. Maybe it’s choosing to see them as someone made in God’s image, even when it’s easier to cast them as the villain in our story.