Anger

How Anger Can Lead to Compassion

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My biggest takeaway from Richard Rohr’s The Tears of Things is an overall view of the Old Testament prophets that looks something like this:

Anger>Tears/Sadness>Compassion

Each prophet had a thing they were angry about, either themselves or on God’s behalf. Just that thought alone is oddly comforting. Anger is normal. No matter whose, mine or God’s. Being angry is part of being human. And for those who believe in being created in the image of God, that equates to it’s part of being God.

However, by the end of their writings, or at least woven in them, is a message of the loving nature of God. The prophet, speaking from their heart or God’s, shares the truth that their audience is loved. Somewhere along the way, anger has turned to compassion (more on that journey in the next post).

How? How does an angry person become compassionate?

One way the prophets do this is by letting truth step into the anger. Such as…

  • God’s heart is for all people, not just those that look or act like me (Jonah).
  • People’s actions don’t have to dictate my reactions to them or God (Jeremiah).
  • Disorder is normal. It’s in need of some holiness, which can start with me (Ezekiel).

Once the prophets embrace the truth of the situation from God’s viewpoint, they are moved to pursue the available redemption. They show compassion by…

  • Not withholding love from anyone (Jonah).
  • Forgiving and living peacefully with those who wrong them (Jeremiah).
  • Breathing life everywhere they go, even in places that appear lifeless (Ezekial).

Easy? No

Possible? Yes

If you’re stuck in anger, consider asking God for truth to enter your heart that could make way for redemption.

Photo by Trnava University on Unsplash

3 Losses Worth Counting

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I resumed listening to Everything Happens this week after referring it to a friend. Always superb.

At the end of episode 8, season 15, Kate made this statement:

The places we come from, the people we love, the losses we carry, they shape us. They shape how we endure, how we hope, how we begin again.

“The losses we carry” struck me. I imagine because that describes some of my experience the last six months. These losses caught me by surprise-I didn’t see them coming. Well, sorta, but not in the way they came.

As I thought about them, a curious thought crossed my mind. “What if, in the effort of naming things, I counted my losses?” It wasn’t a “cut my losses and move on” thought. Rather, it was, “I believe there could be some value in reviewing them, determining what may have caused them, and defining the lessons learned.”

Somewhat like Seph Schlueter’s song Counting My Blessings, but the opposite.

Through this lens, here are three losses that have shaped my year that I’m happy to count:

Losing what I didn’t need-trust in the wrong people. Losing trust is always hard. I’ll go out on a limb to say that’s universal. But however long it takes, we can endure, find hope, and begin again. It took me a couple of months this time. And one key to endurance was leaning in to those who’ve proven they are the right people to trust.

Losing what I’d misplaced-hope in the wrong object. This one is on me. And it’s pretty universal also. We often find ourselves falling for what we can see becoming the object of our hope. If you can see it, it can become your hope bank. But when the wakeup alarm sounds, I see it as a notice to run back to the right object of hope and begin again.

Losing unhealthy emotions-anger for what can’t change. These emotions are everywhere, continuously on display, even celebrated. Exhausting. Disruptive. Gap-widening. They are not to be endured. They can be acknowledged, then I’ve found it best to begin again by working toward the grace to forgive myself for choosing them and averting my mind, heart, and body to gaze, consume, and maybe even fake healthy emotions until they take root and restore hope.

Loss seems harder and harder while aging. Maybe the lack of counting them is to blame. Here’s to better balance. Count it all.

Photo by Hisham Yahya on Unsplash

Running from Joppa

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Jonah 1:3 CEV
Instead, Jonah ran from the Lord. He went to the seaport of Joppa and found a ship that was going to Spain. So he paid his fare, then got on the ship and sailed away to escape.

Most 4:30AM runs don’t make me think of Old Testament prophets. This morning, I might as well have been boarding a boat bound for Spain.

Never mind the fact that a gradual heavier rain fell over the five miles. The connection was a familiar spirit that I’ve encountered many times over my 56 years. I’ve come to identify it as the Jonah Syndrome (JS). See if these three words sound symptomatic: frustrated, angry, and resentful.

The more I chatted and listened to myself, the more I realized I wasn’t the only one in the conversation. If I’m being honest, I told God I felt pretty justified in these emotions. He didn’t disagree; but he didn’t give freedom to let them be an excuse for any actions for the day.

That’s when I turned. Instead of getting cozy on the boat kidding myself that the approaching storm had nothing to do with me, I found myself running from Joppa, visualizing the rain symbolically washing away the potential actions produced by JS. The request became, “Replace these symptoms with patience, love, and purpose.”

Here’s what I know about Joppa-you have a choice: keep running to escape or reverse course. Thankfully, God welcomes pacing anyone running from Joppa.

Photo by Justin Aikin on Unsplash

The Rich Ones

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Letting go is a skill. It could also be called a discipline. It also seems the more one practices it the richer they become.

Letting go of regret increases grace.

Letting go of anger increases peace.

Letting go of pride increases humility.

Letting go of worry increases trust.

Letting go of what could have been improves vision.

Letting go of unmet expectations increases mercy.

Letting go of control increases faith.

Letting go of disappointment increases joy.

Those who know how to let go or at least are growing in this skill and discipline are growing in their wealth.

They are the rich ones.

Photo by Максим Степаненко on Unsplash

Barking at the Fence

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Earlier this year, my friend Mark invited me to regularly cohost his podcast, The Next Man Up. We’re roughly 20 episodes in, and he hasn’t fired me.

In the middle of recording an episode about Angry White Males, I remembered a reel I’d seen recently that seemed relevant to our conversation. The video showed the behavior of two dogs on opposite sides of a fence. Check it out:

The episode topic surfaced because of a college course based on it. Our conversation led us down several roads. All the roads circled around this truth: everyone deals with anger. It’s not just men, and it’s not just white folks. All God’s children have moments of anger…which can turn into seasons…which can turn into years. The question we wrestled with is “How do we deal with it so that it doesn’t become a college course title?”

Plenty of answers exist for that question. I’m going to do something that might anger you and answer it with two other questions: 1) What fuels your anger and 2) What are you going to do with it.

I’ve been asking myself that first question for two years. And yes, it’s taking me that long to get to the real answer. Why? At first I was doing what most of us do-looking at what I wanted it to be rather than digging deep in my soul to discover what it actually was. It’s a lot easier to bark at the fence. Removing the fences we erect to keep us safe and comfortable forces us to see more of what God sees-the sacredness of his creation, including those on the other side.

What led me to start asking question one was when I was asked question two. I was barking about folks on the other side of the fence when a trusted voice asked, “What are you going to do with your anger, John?” They had stopped listening for what had happened to me and who did it. They removed that fence and asked me to see what they saw, a man caressing his anger. My erected fence was gone with one question.

Stop and consider what anger does to you. How does it impact your gut? What does it do to your emotional health? How does anger manifest in your body?

Ready to stop barking?

Start tearing down the fence. Ask God to open your eyes to what he sees.

Feel the blessing of finding your answers to the fuel. Embrace the healing when your anger is replaced by beauty.

Photo by Francesco Ungaro on Unsplash

Whispers to a Hot Minute

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A hot minute about anger.

This morning I was angered by a social media post by a friend. This post, without a doubt, did harm. That in itself causes anger. This post, without a doubt, did harm to a mutual friend. That causes more and deeper anger.

And the reality is, social media posts can cause us anger just about every minute of the day, giving us the opportunity to feel like the whole day is one hot minute. These posts don’t necessarily have to be by people we know. Unfortunately, we are leered into getting hot from posts by people we don’t even know. We can believe the lie that we know their intentions, but reality is that’s impossible.

This morning, I had the same impulse most of us do. “Why don’t I point out the harm and basically put my friend in his place?” Thankfully, I refrained. Then my hotness said, “Well, sure, don’t put it out there for everybody to see. Just send him a private message.” Very tempting, but thankfully I still refrained. So what did I do? I went for a run.

So let me explain. Rarely do I run at 1PM. And rarely is going for a run a solution. But I know myself enough to know that one way to keep me from doing something stupid is to do something good. And some of my best thinking is while I’m running.

Sure enough, the hot minute subsided and the angry rebuttal left the front of my mind. Some call that regulation or de-escalation. In spiritual terms, I’d say it’s dropping your ego in order to let God have a say.

So here are God’s whispers while on my run:

  • “One person’s lack of turning their cheek doesn’t give you the right to do the same.”
  • “A fool is better left alone. I don’t need your help setting them straight.”
  • “Offer forgiveness rather than advice or judgment.”
  • “Consider how Jesus approached the harm Judas created.”

And that’s how I’ll be able to go to sleep tonight. Listening and following the whispers cooling my hot minute.

Photo by Aarón Blanco Tejedor on Unsplash

Mimickry

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I’ve been at it for over two years. It’s a slow burn.

When I transitioned to a new job and anticipated working more from home and not having an office, I knew something had to be done. All my books weren’t going to fit on one bookcase at home. So it began. The personal library deconstruction. As the walls enclose, the books are finding new homes.

I’m guessing all book lovers have similar problems. Not only do we buy more than we need nor have room for, we tend to not get around to reading all of them either. I’d guess someone has labeled this a disorder. I mean, chocolate lovers don’t buy boxes of chocolate just to put them on display never to be opened and eventually discarded. At least I don’t. I enjoy what’s inside. The chocolate box, just to be clear.

To address this problem, I’ve continued the deconstruction in two ways. One, if I’ve never read the book and don’t see that I will in the near future, “off with its head (given away in some fashion).” Two, rather than buying new books (Kindle doesn’t count), I’m reading the books I haven’t read and then deciding if it deserves to stay or go.

Occasionally, I encounter deja vu. Happened yesterday. I finished a book, which deserved to stay on the shelf. So I picked out another one I was pretty sure I hadn’t read. Not even sure where I got it, honestly. It’s signed by the author, which most likely explains why it’s still on the shelf. As I’m reading the first few chapters, it reads like a new book-nothing familiar at all. And then, with the light on the page just right, I see faint yellow highlighting. Are you kidding me? I’ve read this book before, even highlighted it, and I don’t remember. Another book lover problem. Actually, there’s several problems in that realization, but let’s move on.

One joy in re-reading a book is your eye, your mind being captured with more. Something you didn’t engage the first time speaks to you the second time. Like re-watching a movie. Here’s the line in this book that captured me:

We mimic the god we serve.

God’s Resting Place: Finding Your Identity In His Peace, by Ron Marquardt

Marquardt explained that our belief of God’s character plays out in how we live. “If I believe God is angry and hard to please, I find myself behaving the same way. If I find Him happy one moment and angry the next, I will soon follow suit.” (p.19) Mind captured.

So I chose to meditate on that in a journal entry. Rather than analyze my mimicry, I decided to make a list of truths I believe about God. This list, certainly not exhaustive, can then serve as a checklist of how I’m mimicking Him:

  • God loves us as we are
  • God sent his son not to condemn
  • God receives us from our wandering
  • God seeks the lost sheep
  • God rests
  • God listens to his children
  • God blesses those who bless him
  • God humbled himself for his creation
  • God keeps his promises
  • God forgives
  • God is faithful
  • God has eternity in mind
  • God gives generously
  • God has compassion
  • God remembers we are dust

Deconstruction leading to deja vu leading to mimickry. Here’s to the slow burn!

Photo: Izabela Zagaja-Florek

More Compassion, Less Outrage

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I learned this morning that I have a temptation. Devotion #18 in Skye Jethani’s book revealed it.


I relate to Jethani. I don’t share sufficient outrage for some people. Does that mean I don’t get outraged? No. Actually, here’s my temptation-getting outraged at other’s outrage. That’s just as unacceptable. And can be equally exhausting.

When I imagine how Jesus would respond these days, I’m guessing it would be the same as how we read in the Gospels. Did he get outraged? Yes. But he didn’t live outraged. His moments of exhaustion resulted from living from compassion, not anger. Had he lived any other way, he would have never made it to the cross. I’m thankful he never gave in to any temptation, particularly this one.

What’s exhausting us? I pray it’s more compassion than outrage.

“The Angriest…”

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When a fan of “Big Bang Theory” comes across a YouTube video of Chuck Lorre talking about its heartbreaking end, you watch it.


In the interview by CBS Sunday Morning, Lorre’s past as being labeled as “the angriest man in television” surfaced. Lorre had this to say:

I’m trying…I’m trying to have more perspective…but fear for me exhibits as anger because I’m not going to show you fear; I’m going to show you anger because that’s just how I grew up and that’s what you present in the world and that maybe is what becomes your reputation.

Thanks for your transparency and helpful insight, Lorre.

Is it possible that you aren’t angry as much as you are afraid? Is it possible your boss isn’t really mad at your feedback but fearful of something completely unrelated to your conversation? Is it possible that all anger is mostly a smokescreen for fear?

Before you let the sun go down on your or someone else’s anger, consider what role fear has. That attempt at more perspective could change your label and improve your reputation. 

What Are You Telling Yourself?

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2 Kings 5 tells the entertaining and interesting story of Naaman. Naaman was a commander in the Syrian army who also happened to be a leper. His wife’s handmaid, a young Israelite, encouraged him to go see Elisha, the prophet in Samaria that she believed could heal him. After gathering what he thought he needed for the trip and arriving at Elisha’s front door, he found out things were not going to play out as he thought.

Elisha sent out a messenger to tell him to go and wash in the Jordan River seven times. Naaman didn’t think this was acceptable.

Naaman lost his temper. He turned on his heel saying, “I thought he’d personally come out and meet me, call on the name of God, wave his hand over the diseased spot, and get rid of the disease. The Damascus rivers, Abana and Pharpar, are cleaner by far than any of the rivers in Israel. Why not bathe in them? I’d at least get clean.” He stomped off, mad as a hornet. (MSG)

“I thought…I said to myself…I told myself.” 

Naaman had told himself what to expect based on his position and on his limited understanding of God’s prophets and their ways. When his expectations were not realized, his initial reaction was anger. His expectations were not realized because he had only talked with himself. 

You been there? I have. Built expectations on just what I thought, what I had told myself. No one else was in the conversation. No one. And it didn’t end well.

Not knowing the God of Israel, it’s understandable that Naaman would have to experience something like this to believe, to see his thoughts in a new light. Naaman had to learn that a life lived with only one conversation with yourself is limited and potentially hopeless. A better life, the one God desires for you, is found when you invite God and others into the conversation. When Naaman humbled himself, released his expectations and listened to someone else, then God was able to heal him.

What are you telling yourself? What if you always welcomed God into the conversation? I grow weary of telling myself anything. I’d rather God tell me everything, be in charge, and meet his expectations.