Don't Go to Sleep On Your Anger

What causes fights and quarrels among you? Don’t they come from your desires that battle within you? You desire but do not have, so you kill. You covet but you cannot get what you want, so you quarrel and fight. You do not have because you do not ask God.

 

“Life is too short to be pissed off all the time.”


This line hit me like a ton of bricks at the tail end of my teens. Having narrowly escaped the tyranny of private Christian schooling (yes, I am exaggerating), I was well tuned to my anger.


I was mad at my school for firing my mom without good cause. I was mad at my friends for their apparent “betrayal” in cutting off ties with me (which they were in their right to do). I was mad at all the girls I liked who did not reciprocate the affection I had for them. I was mad at the Christian institution who expelled friends of mine for trivial offenses while wealthy kids caught doing the same things were allowed to stay.


I had a lot of feelings about almost everything. I’m a 4 on the Enneagram after all. But anger was primary in my heart.


However, a combination of two different things led my life on a different path. One filled with a lot less anger and a lot more peace.


That line from the beginning of this post is from the increasingly relevant 1998 film American History X. In it, Edward Furlong’s character Danny continues on the racist, bigoted philosophy of his enigmatic and charismatic older brother, Derek (played crazily well by Edward Norton). The film has plenty of issues, and is, frankly, absurdly dark and frightening to watch. Vulgar, crass, and horribly racist dialogue is prevalent throughout the two hour run time, with Derek himself front and center as an up and coming vigilant leader of a band of disenfranchised, impoverished, and incredibly angry white skinheads.

Thankfully, the film convicted me not due to my own deeply held prejudicial views of race. Rather, the sort of ranting and raving present in Derek’s speeches appealed to my own deep, seething rage toward Christian subculture. He was speaking entirely from his gut, and had no pretense about cleaning up his language to accommodate a politically correct rhetoric.

(To be clear and to clarify again, his words are immensely racist and are not reflective AT ALL of how I view issues of race. I am referring only to his impassioned anger)

Not knowing how to express what was going on internally was torturous for me. Even peering back at the senior picture I chose for the yearbook, I see an intensely idealistic kid outraged that his standards of an authentic and understanding Christian world were not met. When my friends were expelled from campus, I felt expelled from campus. When my mom was fired and removed from school, I felt fired and removed from school. When my friends chose to cut off ties with me in order to focus on their relationship with God, I felt like God left me too.


It sucked. But it was not the end of the story. God had some things He wanted to say.


The line I quoted comes at the end of the movie. Without spoiling too much of the plot, one of the characters realizes that his anger is wholly misplaced. Upon realization of the abundant nuance missing from his racist ideology, he lets go of his deep rage toward people of color and instead walks into emotional spaces of understanding and empathy.


Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you.


I hated the Bible and how it was used after I graduated high school. It seemed only to promote self-righteousness from pharisaical gatekeepers and to shun the very outcasts and broken people I felt called to serve and love. The very thing I felt like was at the heart of what the Jesus guy was actually talking about.


Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you.


The line kept ruminating in and out through my freshman and sophomore year of high school. Coupled with joining a community of broken, wounded, and loving Jesus followers, I felt, very slowly, the grace of God calming the rage within, bringing cause to forgive and to find healing.


Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you.


Fast forward eight years, and I will not forget God’s words to me all those years ago. I am a fundamentally different person then I was then.

Where I once openly mocked and belittled, I know seek to understand and empathize.

Where I once deeply detested and directly criticized, I know seek to offer peace and to offer love.

Where I once felt wholly misunderstood and constantly judged, I know felt belonging and connection.

But while I changed from being an angry man to being a merciful man, the pendulum flung way too far to the other side.

Let me explain.


“I just don’t want anyone to ever be angry with me.”

I said this to my therapist, and slouched back into the couch, dumbstruck. This thought pattern has hung onto the background of my mind for a long time, it’s utter absurdity never dawning on me until I said the idea out loud.

Having experienced the ramifications of anger from before, in my younger years, in the “dark days,” I had internalized the command to love my enemies to mean that I should never… ever… be angry.

I think this idea is common in Christian culture, especially for men. While I contended in my blog series about masculinity that expressing any emotion is unacceptable in modern society besides anger, in Christian subculture, suppressing emotion is encouraged, in particular, the emotion of anger.

(Quick political sidebar: this is also why I do not understand continued evangelical support for 45. His anger is never righteous, and his anger has never looked an iota like Christ. Then again, most of the fire and brimstone pastors and church leaders supporting the man do not appear Christ like at all. /mini-rant)

While I definitely find a very encouraging trend of what Pete Scazzero calls “emotionally healthy spirituality” gaining much needed traction in churches, this is not what I was taught as a kid.

The only anger acceptable was against “godless liberalism.” Or Islam overseas (now, for coming into our borders). Or against abortion clinics.

Any sort of angst against those inside the Christian bubble was deeply shunned at best and ground for social exile at worst.

This was why I felt like I couldn’t be a Christian in those late teen years. While my anger boiling over to the point of hatred was deeply sinful, the presence of my anger was not the issue. I already felt so much shame, what with the rich confusion that comes with the teenage years, that adding social and spiritual rejection on top of it all for trying to make sense of why I was so angry only led me into more fury. And then, after learning not allowing anger to steer the ship, I buried it deep, deep down, horrified that the same rejection I felt from before might return if I were to ever air grievance with anyone about anything. I am only now coming awake to my anger.

We need to not go to sleep on our anger. While letting it guide your inner emotional landscape leads to unnecessary conflict and constant bickering, suppressing it entirely leads to conflict avoidance and feigned niceness that hinders true intimacy.

Jesus Himself got angry. And His outbursts weren’t very nice. Honestly, one could argue they were violent. But they were intentional, on the behest of the impoverished, and pointed to an ever deeper call to the heart of the law. Further, we have several examples of His becoming irritated at His disciples. He is quoted often saying “o ye of little faith,” once told Peter to “get behind me Satan,” and frequently expressed annoyance about them not understanding His mission, His identity, and His teaching. And watch out if you were a Pharisee. While He is quoted commending their righteousness, at the end of Matthew’s gospel He goes off on them with multiple rebukes, chastising their knowledge of every letter and word of the law while having hearts reeking of pride and self-satisfaction.

Clearly, anger is not what’s at fault. But the Bible is also clear about what unrighteous anger causes to the heart.

“My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires.”

“Fools give full vent to their rage, but the wise bring calm in the end.”

“But I tell you that anyone who is angry with a brother or sister will be subject to judgment. Again, anyone who says to a brother or sister, ‘Raca,’ is answerable to the court. And anyone who says, ‘You fool!’ will be in danger of the fire of hell.”

(Last quote is Jesus, btw)

So then, what do we do with anger? When do we use it? And when do we choose not to act on it?


Working with kids is very helpful in discerning your own ongoing issues. With all of their emotions at the forefront of their bodies, faces, and eyes, as an educator, you quickly learn which emotions are the most comfortable for you to deal with and which emotions freak you out the most.

While I’ve ran the gamut of all varieties of tantrum, it is explosions of anger which frighten me the most.

I’ve been called or told all of the following: ‘you’re a jerk,’ ‘i hate you,’ ‘no one likes you,’ ‘you’re an idiot,’ ‘i’m going to hit you’ (or kick you or bite you or some sort of physical harm). I’ve been kicked, punched, and shoved more than a dozen times (but never bitten, I’m too fast for them!)

Even after five years of working with all sorts of “bad kids,” witnessing unbridled, entirely authentic rage is very upsetting.


Yet, the conversations after the fact are some of the sweetest, kindest, most honest I have ever had in my life. Children have an uncanny capacity to apologize. I can go down the list of all the little ones I have had the privilege of serving and remember completely their tears, their hand-drawn letters, their heartfelt desire to reconcile..

Kids don’t bury their anger. They haven’t learned how to be passive aggressive. Their emotions are too present and active to suppress. So then, what have I taught kids about anger? Better said, what have kids taught me about anger?


For starters, don’t hide it. This I need work on. As humans, once we are in proximity with one another, conflict is inevitable. Overlooking some offenses is helpful in loving one another well. Overlooking all offenses completely blocks loving one another well. Once the breaking point is hit, the subtle memories we have of all the offenses of those around us brims to the surface, and has to be shared, often in outbursts and tantrums akin to children.

Second, share the behaviors that bother you as, merely that, behaviors. Although we assume that others understand our behavioral expectations of them, the cold truth is that they haven’t the foggiest clue what we expect of them. Even the closest people in your life can never know fully your inner landscape. So, when a behavior does bother you, isolate it from any other thing associated with the person. In other words, don’t say “you are inconsiderate for not doing the dishes.” Instead, point out that the action itself is inconsiderate. As flawed, broken, and differently insecure people, while we can’t shy away from conflict, we can’t use conflict as an opportunity to project our problems onto someone else. They didn’t avoid the dishes because of anything to do with you. They didn’t do the dishes because they are human and prone to mistakes.

Thirdly, use conflict when it arises to increase intimacy. I need to work on this too. Not telling people things they do that upset you prevents them from loving you and prevents you from loving them. Let me explain. In our current cultural moment, we tend to associate and become close with people already in our ideological camp. In essence, this enables a diminished likeliness for conflict to occur based on opposing values. If we all agree religiously, politically, and ideologically, then what could we possible fight about? This only exacerbates our improper use of anger. Scared to lose your place in a given culture for fear of rejection if you bring your grievances, your passive acceptance of what bothers you bleeds into more and more little things. Before long, the list of what bothers you about the person will dominate your thought patterns, and not long after, you will explode at them and not know why. If, however, in love and in grace, you bring your issues to those you love, you are inviting and calling them to an even deeper place of connection with you. The fear of them failing your expectations might be powerful, and yet, here is where God’s place in this comes in.

Finally, invite God into your spaces of anger. Whether it be about people you love, the political landscape, or that annoying jerk who cut you off in traffic, bring God into your fury. The tendency here, however, is to ask God to remove our anger. While it is true that God calls us to peace, and Jesus even blesses peacemakers in the Beatitudes, if God Himself can become angry, and if He designed those who bear His likeness to feel anger too, why would we ask Him to remove it entirely? Rather, we must listen to the emotion of anger and figure out what God is trying to speak to us through it. Are you really mad at that anonymous, racist YouTuber? Do you really want to ram that punk off the road who flipped you off for not turning to the right lane? Is your significant other, or sister, or best friend, that much of an inconsiderate jerk? Or, convicting myself here, have you really purged yourself of your own anger? Or are you afraid to share your frustration to others so you inflict it on yourself instead? Behind anger is fear. What are you so afraid of happening that you worry about exploding in anger about it? Where have you not given God these fears, and where do you feel God calling you to give Him anger so that He can silence your fear?


Everything God made God made for a reason. Every feeling we get is another piece of yourself you can offer to God. Every doubt you share with Him is space for an even deeper trust in who He is.

Every moment, thought, or feeling of anger, rage, malice, slander and fury must be purged, yes, but they need be offered to the feet of Jesus first.

He gets it. He got mad too. He might even show you spaces and times to broadcast righteous anger for an intentional, kingdom of Heaven advancing purpose.

Yet deeper then that, Jesus wants your heart. All of it, even and especially the broken pieces of it you don’t want to show to others, don’t want to show to yourself, don’t want to show to Him.

He is patient with all of us, giving us permission to deny His call to deeper intimacy and deeper connection. And yet, He will never call you to change something outside of your limits to experience or outside of His power to heal.

So then, bring Him your anger. And so by doing find deeper connection to the Prince of Peace, the King of Kings, the Lion and the Lamb, the Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End.