Holy Anger

This morning I woke up angry. I woke up angry that the country I live in is actually having a debate right now over whether or not racism is an individual right. I’m angry that the entire nation can be concerned over the cancellation of a television show while ignoring the fact that babies are being torn from their parents’ arms at the U.S/Mexico border. My rage boils over to think that in the last two years we’ve seen dozens of students slaughtered in their schools by other students and yet there is no movement on the part of my government to look into gun reform, or even to provide mental health resources for children.

I’m furious that the vast majority of the people in my country can’t seem to realize that toxic masculinity is real and it is responsible for rape, murder, and the brutalization of women and children every single hour of every single day. There are over 14,000 men in the military being raped and assaulted by their fellow servicemen every year. Churches are still fighting over whether or not women can teach men. American churches are still deciding whether or not non-white people should be treated as human beings.

People who claim to love Jesus are still molesting children, and getting away with it. Pastors are telling women that it is better to die than to divorce an abusive husband. Christians are still reading the Bible as though only the parts of it that are cruel and violent at face-value were ever meant to be taken seriously. Tradition and so-called “Christian leaders” have more authority in the faith community than Jesus himself.

I am furious, and I am sickened.

The other day I had a conversation with a dear friend about how my role in the world is not to fight, but to offer peace to those who have been wounded in the fighting. And that is true, for the most part. I’m of little use when it comes to bringing justice to those who inflict the most pain, because it is so easy for me to turn to vengeance instead of justice. I default to revenge rather than reconciliation when faced with those who unrepentantly continue in sin.

But down here in the trenches of the war this world continues to wage on itself, I am seeing the wounds that have been inflicted by the deadly weapons of hatred, malice, racism, sexism, violence, and greed. And my place may not be to jump into the fight myself, but I can be furious that the fight exists at all.

I’m enraged that despite the fact that Jesus’ death and resurrection should have put an end to the violence in this world millennia ago, it’s still going strong. I am furious that instead of repenting of our lust for death, we continue to kill. And I’m honestly passionately outraged that there are still wounds to bind when the Perfect Healer offers a way to stop all of this if only we would listen.

This is a holy anger for which I will not apologize.