Hate Like God

If you’re going to hate, hate like God.

In preparation for 2025’s Exploring the Bible seminar on Reading, Understanding, and Responding to the Bible I was reading in the psalms and struck—as I have been in the past, but haven’t given as much time to it—by the way the psalmists talk about God hating not just things (like sin), but people. In particular, I was struck by this verse: “You hate all who do wrong.” (Ps 5:5, NIV)

For a long time I think I’ve kind of just let statements like that one go, because I didn’t know what to do with them. It's one thing to think of a person hating something or someone else—it’s not comfortable, but I don’t think it seems foreign to us—it’s quite another to think of God hating someone. But there it was (and is) in the psalms.

To be fair to that statement from Psalm 5:5, it doesn’t exist on its own; it finds its place within the larger context of the surrounding verses, which read:

“In the morning, Lord, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait expectantly. For you are not a God who is pleased with wickedness; with you, evil people are not welcome. The arrogant cannot stand in your presence. You hate all who do wrong; you destroy those who tell lies. The bloodthirsty and deceitful you, Lord, detest. But I, by your great love, can come into your house; in reverence I bow down toward your holy temple.” (Ps 5:3-7, NIV)

It's clear to see that David’s focus in writing this section of the psalm is on God’s response to wickedness—in particular, those who do wickedness. He writes, “…evil people are not welcome. The arrogant cannot stand in your presence.” The point is clear enough: when it comes to being with God, evil and those who do it are not welcome. He continues to explain this by writing that God hates “all who do wrong.” Further, that God detests “the bloodthirsty and deceitful.” Humanity was out of luck then, right? Amazingly, that statement is quickly followed up by one on God’s love. David writes, “But I, by your great love, can come into your house.”

At least two things seem to be true in Psalm 5:3-7. The first: that God hates, not just the wrong that people do, but the people who do the wrong. The second: that in God’s great love, David—who wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination—can somehow come into God’s house.

Should we just toss this difficulty up to the poetic nature of the psalms? God doesn’t really hate anyone, that’s just a way a strong idea was expressed back in the day—similarly to saying that God doesn’t really get angry, although the Bible speaks of him getting angry. I don’t think that quite works, because there are also a lot of nice things said about God throughout the psalms—and as we just saw, right after that statement about hate. Would we also be so eager to treat those nicer statements in the same way? I also don’t think so. I do, though, think something peculiar is going on with this hate language that must be interpreted correctly to avoid misunderstanding the statements.

When you and I think about hate, we almost always think of it as an overwhelming emotional response toward a person or thing. If I say I hate Ryan who lives down the street, I mean that Ryan (as a person) really, really, really bothers me. If I say I hate him, I mean I don’t want him around at all. I mean that even his existence bothers me. That’s why a lot of us are taught to keep away from that type of language. To say we hate someone means roughly that we wish they didn’t exist. The question, then, is this: is that what the Scriptures mean when they speak of God hating all who do wrong?

I was particularly helped on this matter by looking at one of the clearest hate statements in the Bible, found within the New Testament. Paul, in Romans, quotes the prophet Malachi, and writes, “Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated.” (Ro 9:13, NIV) Pretty clear, right? God enjoys having Jacob around, but he wishes Esau would beat it, forever. The New Living Translation is really helpful here.

The translators of the NLT translated Romans 9:13 a little differently than the NIV. They went with, “I loved Jacob, but I rejected Esau.” I know you noticed the difference. Where the NIV translators set love and hate side-by-side, the NLT translators switched it up a little by setting love and rejected side-by-side. Why did they do that?

Romans 9:13 is not a difficult verse to translate from Greek into English. The two main words we’re looking at are agapao and miseo. Agapao is the Greek verb often translated as love, and miseo is the Greek verb often translated as hate. However, as I’ve mentioned elsewhere, when it comes to translating the Greek of the New Testament into English, context determines translation.

The translation process is way more involved than a simple equation of something like this Greek word equals that English word. One Greek word might be translated a number of different ways into English, because—just as it is in English—the same word isn’t always used in the same way depending on the context in which it’s used.

Think of the word love in English. If you say that you love your mom and that you love pizza, you don’t mean the same thing. If you were translating your statement about loving pizza into another language, you might want to be clear in that other language that you don’t mean you feel the same way about pizza that you do your mom. That’s kind of what’s going on with the NLT’s translation of Romans 9:13.

The NLT translators have decided that although miseo is used—and it’s often the right decision to translate it strictly as hate elsewhere—here it’s probably not the best decision, because what Paul is saying is that although God has chosen to accept Jacob (i.e., Israel—his chosen people), he is not going to accept those outside—he is rejecting them. My suggestion, to make this sentiment clearer, would have been translate agapao not as love, but as accept, so the verse would have ended up reading, “I accepted Jacob, but I rejected Esau.”

In the context of Romans 9 and the quotation of Malachi (reaching all the way back to Genesis) God is saying he is going to accept (i.e., love) all those who make him their God, and he will reject (i.e., hate) all those who don’t make him their God. It’s as if God was saying something like this: “By me choosing Jacob over Esau, before either of them had been born, I’m showing you that I have decided to make a people for myself out of the world. In them I will show my righteousness as I set my acceptance on them. They, in turn, will show their acceptance of me in the way they follow my direction to live a righteous life. As a result, you will also see my rejection of wickedness by the way I am against, and have rejected, those who do not follow me, and thus choose to make their lives in wickedness.”

This is how God hates.

His hatred is rejection. And his rejection is based on the rejection of those he created to have life. Those who reject God have been and will be given the rejection they’re seeking—God will reject them, too. When the psalmists (and others throughout the Bible) speak of God loving someone, they mean that God has chosen to favor and accept them. When those same psalmists (and others throughout the Bible) speak of God hating someone, they mean that God has chosen to reject them (partially now, and completely later).

Further—and this is really where we get to the point of this article—we must say that the way God has hated and continues to hate, is not by outright rejection just because someone has rejected him. The cross and resurrection stand in direct opposition against this sort of thinking.

God has been and continues to be rejected again, and again, and again, by countless people who have lived, are living now, and will live later, but that did not stop God from doing something for them. He made a way for them to come back, in the midst of their rejection, to experience life in him. He has removed any barrier to them coming home—the road closed signs have been removed, and the directions are clear.

For all those who at one point rejected God—which was all of us at one point or another—he has said, “Look at how much I love you by what I have done for you. I have put away your sin. I have offered life to you. Won’t you take it? Don’t you want to live? I have life in me, and I’m gladly offering it to you. And lest you think that because of your abounding sin you cannot come home, I’m telling you that as your sin has increased and may even increase later, my grace will not just match your sin, but far exceed it. You cannot out-sin my love for you.”

This is how God hates.

He is clear that he will not wink an eye at, or tolerate sin. Sin cannot come near him, because he will not allow it. His righteousness precludes that from happening. He will not welcome wickedness, but he will welcome the wicked. He will welcome you and I in the midst of our sin. He will welcome us if we want to come home. He has just one requirement: our sin cannot come with us.

So, if you and I are going to hate, we ought to hate like God. We do not need to welcome wickedness, and we do not need to welcome those who choose to live their lives in wickedness. We, however, do need to make sure those who choose to live their lives in wickedness know that there is a way home, and that the door has not been closed to them. It’s also a good idea for us to remember that, in all our rejection of wickedness, we are not God. He is the only one who is righteous to his core. We have lived in sin. We have loved sin. We have had to come back home. God has always been home. This is, of course, good for us because it allows us to invite people home in humility. We’ve had to come home, too, so we can show them the way.

A Walkthrough of Romans 8: Verse 3

Condemnation has been removed for those who are in Christ, but condemnation has not been removed for sin.

“For what the law was powerless to do because it was weakened by the flesh, n God did by sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh to be a sin offering. And so he condemned sin in the flesh” (Rom. 8:3, NIV).

I think if we were to design a god of our own choosing we might make one who just plain forgives his people. We probably wouldn’t make up one who demands something in order to forgive. That doesn’t seem very forgiving to us.

We might triumphantly say, “My god is one who just forgives without expecting anything in return!”

Thankfully this god of our design is not the one found in the Scriptures. The God of the Bible is one who forgives—that is a certainty—but his forgiveness is tied closely with his condemnation of sin. Without the condemnation of sin, forgiveness is nothing more than a nice thing to do that ends up having no lasting change.

The forgiveness we find in the Bible, however, is one that not only pardons the one who did wrong, but changes who they are from the inside out. The forgiveness offered to us by the God Paul worshipped is a forgiveness in which God himself has done something to enable him to forgive.

He hasn’t just brushed the offenses aside—whatever they may be for his people—he (the Father) has sent his Son (Jesus) as sin offering to clear the guilt. This God has done something about the sin. In fact, he has done to the sin what he has not done to us—condemned it.

The Father, Son, and Spirit has taken the condemnation rightly due us and placed it upon sin. Specifically, he has placed it upon Jesus. “God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” (2 Cor. 5:21, NIV)

The triune God, in full agreement, has sentenced Jesus to be a sin offering in order to condemn sin instead of us.

What John Bunyan Says About the Heart of Jesus Toward Sinners

Commenting on John 6:37, “All that the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never cast out.” John Bunyan wrote this as he described the heart of Jesus toward sinners.

But I am a great sinner, say you.
“I will never cast you out,” says Christ.

But I am an old sinner, say you.
“I will never cast you out,” says Christ.

But I am a hard-hearted sinner, say you.
“I will never cast you out,” says Christ.

But I am a backsliding sinner, say you.
“I will never cast you out,” says Christ.

But I have served satan all my days, say you.
“I will never cast you out,” says Christ.

But I have sinned against light, say you.
“I will never cast you out,” says Christ.

But I have sinned against mercy, say you.
“I will never cast you out,” says Christ.

But I have no good thing to bring with me, say you.
“I will never cast you out,” says Christ.

What objection do we have left?

Fun with Greek (2)

One little word in Greek (and, then, a few words in English—depending on the translation) makes all the difference for how we understand a believer’s relationship to sin.

In Romans, Paul is writing to Christians about a large number of things that all revolve around who Jesus was and is, and what he means for their lives and the world in which they live. Just about halfway through his letter (in what we call chapter 6), Paul starts to address the truth that someone in sin is not just messing around with sin but they are slaves of sin. In fact, Paul makes it clear that everyone at all times is either a slave of sin or righteousness.

To put it another way, a person either belongs to the world or to Jesus; they can’t belong to both at the same time.

I think Paul wrote that section of his letter not to discourage, but to encourage his readers. And his encouragement is found in the way he reminds them of what’s no longer true about them.

The cool thing for the purpose of this article is that Paul makes that point with one little Greek word: ἦτε (ēte). In Greek, ἦτε is what’s called an “imperfect indicative”. It’s a type of Greek verb that communicates something that happened in the past.

In Romans 6:17b, we read this in Greek: ἦτε δοῦλοι τῆς ἁμαρτίας. Roughly translated, it says, “Y’all were slaves of sin.”

“Y’all” because Paul wasn’t writing to just one person; he was writing to an entire body of believers. And, in finally getting to the point of this short article, “were” because those believers are no longer slaves of sin. This was Paul’s encouraging reminder to them.

In the past—before their lives were changed by Jesus and they decide to trust in him—it would have been wrong to say that they were slaves of sin, because they were still slaves of sin. But now, due to the work of God in their lives, this is no longer true, and Paul shows that this is no longer true of them by writing: ἦτε.

One little Greek word that makes all the difference.

Exegetical Meditations (41)

For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. (Hebrews 4:15, NIV)

In Hebrews we’re told that our high priest (Jesus) is able to know what we’re going through when it comes to temptation and sin because he went through it. We’re told that he was tempted in every way we are with one stark difference—he did not sin.

The difference between Jesus and us is that he didn’t give into that temptation ever. There was not a moment of his life when Jesus walked willingly into sin because of the ever-increasing temptation upon him.

We’re told this for our encouragement. And we’re told this to encourage others.

What can you say to a Christian brother or sister who’s going through some strong battle with temptation and sin? They want to be freed from it, but they’ve been unable so far to grab hold of that freedom. What can you say that would be encouraging to them? You might remind them of the truth found in Hebrews 4:15. Their savior, Jesus, has gone through what they’re going through. He has fought the battle with temptation. He fought against temptation right up to the end.

They crucified two rebels with him, one on his right and one on his left. Those who passed by hurled insults at him, shaking their heads and saying, “So! You who are going to destroy the temple and build it in three days, come down from the cross and save yourself!” In the same way the chief priests and the teachers of the law mocked him among themselves. “He saved others,” they said, “but he can’t save himself! Let this Messiah, this king of Israel, come down now from the cross, that we may see and believe.” Those crucified with him also heaped insults on him. (Mark 15:27-32)

The interesting thing in those conversations is that what happens next isn’t always the same. One type of person will hear the truth of Hebrews 4:15, take it in, and use it as an encouragement to fight the battle that’s before them. They will push on in the strength of Jesus knowing that he’s been there and and fought that battle. Another type of person will hear the truth of Hebrews 4:15, take it in, and wonder if Jesus can really understand since he never sinned. They’ll wonder if if he really has experienced what they’ve gone through.

Jesus never sinned, they’ll wonder, so how can he really know what I’m going through?

With all due respect to the second type of person, there’s a fundamental misunderstanding of their relationship to temptation and sin—one that I think we all naturally gravitate to until we’re shown the full truth of it. When we think of temptation and sin we often link our experience of temptation to the fact that we sin.

How do we know the full force of temptation? We sin.

This, however, is not true. We don’t know the full force of temptation because we sin. We’ve never exhausted temptation’s strength, because it has never had to use all of it’s strength to get us to sin. We give in at some point and willingly go along with the temptation to sin.

Jesus never did this.

He’s the only person ever to have felt the full force of temptation. And he felt that full force precisely because he did not sin. Temptation gave everything it had to make him want to sin and it could not do it.

Turn this stone to bread.
We’ll kill you if you keep talking that like that.
Even his brothers and sisters didn’t believe in him.
Judas betrayed him.
Barabbas was freed instead of him.
Save yourself from the cross and we will believe.

And yet, Jesus did not sin. How can we be encouraged to fight temptation by someone who never experienced sin like we have? Because the one who never gave into temptation knows exactly what it takes to stand up against it.