Putting Anger in its Place

by Jeff Cook

It’s a sure sign of trouble when you receive a call from your son’s elementary school, as I recently did. The principal said my son had hit another child with a scooter in retaliation for an insult—certainly not something we teach at home. The school and I were in agreement that there's no good reason for such actions and he ought to be corrected.

But why should we think retaliations by adults any different?

Many of us have watched the chilling videos coming out of Syria. Many of us have been moved by the sight of such suffering, making us wish we could do something—anything—to stop the pain. And while I know little about international relations, I’m often struck by how Americans often reference "revenge" as a worthy defense of military actions.

The Christian tradition has routinely rejected violence as an adequate way of solving the world's problems. But do we really believe the way of the cross is better than the way of the sword?

James the brother of Jesus wrote, "My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.” Why? Because, Jesus says, our anger does not produce the dikosune—"the righteousness," "the harmony," "the justice that God desires" (James 1:19-20).

As potent as anger can be, it can’t build anything. Anger is an agent of destruction. Anger moves us to eliminate what upsets our peace and harmony. If we would join Jesus’ work for a new creation, anger isn't qualified for the job. Anger can only burn down a house; it can't erect one.

Of course, anger is quite natural. God gets angry, after all, and since we are reflectors of his image, it would seem there are healthy expressions of anger. Jesus became angry at times and sought to destroy caustic pictures of God, demonic rule, religious injustice and the power of sin and death. But he never made people a target of destruction. And this is an important distinction.

Was he angry at their motives, their sin, their choices? Sure. But, as Paul wrote, "Our battle isn't against flesh and blood" (Ephesians 6:12). Jesus was angered by demons and their work in his world, and spoke of a day when every weed that perverted his Father's world would be eliminated in a final fire. Jesus was angered by the presence of child abuse, alcoholism, foolishness in his once-perfect creation. Yet he also desires for people to be "freed from the dominion of darkness."

Anger can be good when it cleanses, liberates and renews, as Jesus exemplifies. But when our anger moves us to violence, hatred and judgment, it is no longer useful. Perhaps this kind of anger is better named wrath, and we should not ignore its boomeranging consequences.

It can often be difficult to separate the two, but we must attempt to keep our anger in its rightful place.

Think of it this way. Anger is more like gasoline than it is like a match. By its nature, anger is reactive and can easily turn into wrath if we’re not careful. There's nothing wrong with gasoline, but we don't drink it. That would be self-destructive. And wrath is always self-destructive. As Anne Lamott writes, feeding our hate "is like drinking rat poison and then waiting for the rat to die."

If we have learned anything from the last 12 years since 9/11, it's that violence doesn't solve problems. Jesus identified the self-destructive nature of violence and mocked those that employ it, noting, "All who draw the sword will die by the sword" (Matthew 26:52).

Jesus advocates a better way that is neither passive nor vengeful. He said, "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you" (Matthew 5:44). Though it is perhaps the hardest ethical teaching in the history of our planet, it also screams sanity and soul-health.

Praying for our enemies is active. It replaces a hatred that would poison our hearts with love, a healing agent. Jesus’ command invites us onto an aggressive, non-violent trajectory that leads to a new creation. We see this in the cross itself. Jesus dies for his enemies and in so doing transforms the world.

But apart from violence, there’s a subtler form of anger gone wrong we need to beware: being judgmental.

I find it amazing how consistently Jesus rejects judging others, yet how often Christians advocate it, as though judging were a holy activity. Aside from his lengthy teaching in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus rejected invitations to judge saying, "You judge by human standards, I pass judgment on no one" (John 8:15), "I did not come to judge the world, but to save it." (John 12:47), "Man, Who made me a judge of you?" (Luke 12:14). Jesus is painted pushing judgment away like rotten meat. Why? Because judgment corrodes the heart. When we judge, we become frozen by either pride or envy. One concludes I'm better than you, the other says you're better than me—and neither are healthy.

How much better if we replaced our knee-jerk judgmental attitude with an attitude of prayer and blessing? "What do I think of this person: good or bad" ought to be replaced with, "How can I bring joy and health to this person?"

In all things, when we don't love our neighbors as ourselves, we use our neighbors for ourselves. Wrath and judgment are attractive because they make us feel better at the expense of others.

How different the anger of Jesus! When inflamed with anger at this fallen state we’re in, "God demonstrated his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."

This is the way God remakes his world. And my hope is that all of us—you, and I, and my son after the scooter incident—will choose to join him in it.

Jeff Cook teaches philosophy at the University of Northern Colorado. He is a pastor at Atlas Church in Greeley and author of Seven: the Deadly Sins and the Beatitudes (Zondervan 2008). Find him at www.everythingnew.org and @jeffvcook.

Editor's note: Photo taken by Phillippe Leroyer

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