Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices in the truth!

Hello ,

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
—1 Corinthians 13:6

This line exposes one of the most uncomfortable realities about the human heart: when we are wounded, insecure, or bitter, there is a part of us that can quietly enjoy someone else’s downfall. Not because we are cruel—but because pain looks for validation. If they fail, we feel justified. If they suffer, our suffering feels less lonely. 

Scripture does not excuse this instinct. It names it—and calls love to something higher.

To “delight in evil” does not always mean celebrating obvious wrongdoing. Often it shows up subtly: savoring bad news about someone who hurt us, rehearsing their flaws to protect our ego, or hoping consequences fall harder on them than on us. It can even masquerade as moral righteousness—they’re finally getting what they deserve. 

But love refuses to feed on collapse, even when collapse feels earned.

Instead, love rejoices with the truth. Truth here is not gossip, exposure, or “setting the record straight.” In Scripture, truth is aligned with reality as God sees it—whole, redemptive, and ordered toward restoration. 

Love celebrates what is real, even when reality is inconvenient. It chooses honesty over narrative control. It chooses integrity over emotional revenge.

This is why love does not need to exaggerate someone else’s failures to justify its boundaries. Truth stands on its own. Love can acknowledge harm without enjoying it. It can name sin without rooting for destruction. It can walk away without hoping the other person falls apart.

History gives us a stark picture of this distinction in Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German pastor who opposed the Nazi regime. He resisted real evil at great personal cost, yet warned repeatedly against hatred masquerading as righteousness. He believed that once resistance loses its love for truth—and begins to delight in the enemy’s ruin—it becomes morally indistinguishable from what it opposes.

Jesus embodied this perfectly. 

He confronted evil clearly, without ambiguity. Yet He never celebrated the sinner’s fall. When Jerusalem rejected Him, He did not gloat—He wept. Truth, for Jesus, was always paired with grief, not triumph.

In daily life, this attribute asks a piercing question: What do I secretly enjoy when I think no one is watching? The answer often reveals whether love is still shaping us—or whether pain has begun to train our reactions.

Love does not need someone else to be wrong in order to be right. It does not require another person’s failure to feel justified. It rejoices when what is true comes into the light—even if that truth humbles us, complicates the story, or removes our sense of moral superiority.

Today’s invitation is sobering and freeing: refuse to feast on evil, even quietly. Choose truth—not as a weapon, but as a place of alignment. Love stays clean not because the world is clean, but because it refuses to become corrupted by what it resists.

Musical Reflection: Turn Your Eyes Upon on Jesus

Have a great day and God bless!

Pastor Mike / The Open Word