The Sermon on the Mount (16):  Perfect Love: The Radical Call of the Kingdom

As we continue our study of the Sermon on the Mount, we arrive at one of the most profound and searching teachings of Jesus—Matthew 5:43–48. In this brief yet weighty passage, Jesus issues a command so radical and so countercultural that it continues to challenge and transform hearts across the centuries:

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven; for He causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? If you greet only your brothers, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? Therefore, you are to be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” (Matthew 5:43–48)

This is the sixth and final contrast Jesus draws in this section of the Sermon. In each of the six, He contrasts what the people had heard with what He now declares. The religious leaders—especially the Pharisees—had reduced the Law to a system of external rules and manageable practices. They diluted its demands and magnified its allowances. They turned the Law into a checklist, emphasizing outward compliance over inward transformation.

But Jesus pierces through this surface-level obedience. His teaching does not merely concern behavior; it addresses the heart. The Pharisees sought to make righteousness attainable without true repentance. Jesus, by contrast, calls His followers to a standard that is impossible without grace.

So many today—just like then—attempt to gain God’s approval through formulas, routines, and religious performances. We want to believe that if we say the right things or do the right deeds, we will earn His favor. But Scripture makes it clear: God sees the heart. No sacrifice, no ritual, and no moral performance can substitute for the obedience of love.

Another error we often make is thinking we can balance our sin with good deeds—as though God’s judgment operates like a cosmic scale. But would a just and holy God allow even a small amount of unrighteousness into His presence? Of course not. His standard is not “better than average,” but holiness. The solution, then, is not moral improvement—it is divine rescue.

It is not arrogance to say, “I know I’m going to heaven.” It is arrogance to believe that you can get there on your own. My confidence rests not in myself but in Christ, who has met the standard on my behalf. He alone is righteous, and only through Him can we be made new.

Returning to the passage, Jesus says, “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’” The first part is from Leviticus 19:18, but the second phrase—“hate your enemy”—is nowhere in the Old Testament. It was a cultural distortion that allowed people to love selectively and exclude those who were different or difficult.

But God’s standard has always been broader and deeper. In fact, the same chapter in Leviticus commands Israel to love the stranger—the outsider—as themselves. Jesus isn’t introducing something new; He is recovering the true intent of the Law. The parable of the Good Samaritan makes this crystal clear: love cannot be confined to categories, classes, or familiarity. A neighbor is anyone whose need intersects with our compassion.

Yet Jesus doesn’t stop with inclusion—He goes further. “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” Here we encounter the central demand of Kingdom life: to return not just forgiveness, but active love to those who harm us. This love is not a feeling; it is a choice to seek another’s good, even at our own expense.

No command is more difficult. To pray for someone who wounds you? To bless the one who betrays you? This is not natural. But Jesus never intended the Christian life to be lived naturally. It is supernatural. What He commands, He also supplies—through His own life in us.

Some may appeal to the Psalms of judgment or Israel’s holy wars to avoid this command. But those were specific to redemptive history—unique judgments by God, not permissions for personal vengeance. Even David, in his strongest words against evildoers, ends by asking God to search his own heart. And when we read Revelation and hear the cries for justice, they come not from bitterness but from a longing for God to set things right.

Jesus says, “Love your enemies… so that you may be sons of your Father in heaven.” He’s not saying we earn sonship but that we reflect it. God’s common grace extends to all—He gives sun and rain to both the righteous and the wicked. His generosity isn’t limited by merit. Likewise, when we love our enemies, we are not acting out of human instinct—we are showing the family resemblance of the Father.

Loving those who love us is nothing special. Anyone can do that. But loving those who oppose us—that is divine. That is Kingdom love. That is the love that Christ Himself demonstrated when, hanging on the cross, He prayed, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

Jesus closes with a bold statement: “Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” This perfection is not sinless flawlessness, but maturity—a wholeness of love that mirrors the complete goodness of God. It is a high calling, but one not grounded in legalism. It is grounded in life—His life, in us.

This is not religion. It is transformation. It is not behavior management, but heart renovation. The way of the Kingdom is not about striving harder but surrendering deeper. The love Jesus calls us to is not something we muster—it is something we receive and then release.

Christ gave His life for us, that He might give His life to us, and then live His life through us. The life of Christ in the believer is the only power strong enough to love enemies, forgive debts, and overcome evil with good.

These words from Jesus are not merely commands to obey. They are invitations to abide. They lead us not to self-effort, but to Spirit-dependence. And as we yield ourselves more fully to Him, we begin to reflect the perfection of our heavenly Father—not because we have arrived, but because He is at work in us.

To explore the Sermon on the Mount more deeply and discover how to thoughtfully answer the questions below, subscribe to Ken Boa Reflections on Substack.

Questions for Reflection

1. What does loving your enemies look like in your current season of life? Are there people you need to begin praying for today?
2. How do you tend to respond when others hurt or mistreat you—through self-defense, avoidance, or retaliation? What would it look like to respond instead with redemptive love?
3. Jesus teaches that we should love not just those who are like us, but even our enemies. What obstacles in your heart make this difficult, and how might you bring those to God in prayer?
4. How does understanding your identity as a child of your heavenly Father empower you to live differently—especially in how you treat those who oppose or misunderstand you?