Editor’s Note: This article was originally published in September 2022.
Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God.
– James 1:19-20, ESV
Acting Out in Anger
When Will Smith strode onto the stage at the 2022 Academy Awards ceremony and slapped Chris Rock across the face, it touched off a series of pedantic debates. Was Smith in the right to be angry at a cheap joke about his wife’s baldness? If so, was he right to respond publicly and physically to defend her honor? If he had done nothing, how many people would even have known the Oscars happened that night?
But the most interesting aspect of the incident was not its appropriateness or entertainment value. Rather, it was that, in a room full of actors, it was strangely performative. It was as if Smith did what he did because that was what people expected of him — that a violent response to provocation was somehow the most authentic way to behave. Ironically, it seemed closer to the opposite.
In the age of social media, visible exhibitions of anger have become ubiquitous. Sometimes this occurs on the various digital platforms themselves, with users calling on their networks to join in their outrage over the latest misbehaving celebrity or misguided government policy. At other times, public displays of wrath take on more traditional forms, such as organized protests and impassioned speeches. None of this is to suggest that the anger is not genuine. Smith was surely affronted by Rock’s jab at his wife. The participants in the Black Lives Matter demonstrations in the summer of 2020 were certainly quite truly angry about racialized police violence, just as the Jan. 6 U.S. Capitol invaders were angry about election fraud. (Whether these were objectively correct on the merits of their positions is a different question.) But even authentic feelings carry a different flavor when expressed in a manner that has people looking over their shoulders for approval and reinforcement.
What Lies Beneath
There are plenty of external stimuli that produce rage, many of them justifiably so. The death and displacement of citizens in Ukraine and Afghanistan are rightly infuriating, for example. For most (though certainly not all), however, these situations are abstractions. More tangible and much more dubious are the comparatively unrighteous indignations felt when, say, a referee makes a bad call or a fellow motorist cuts us off. Somewhere in between lie the rising temperatures that might accompany school-board arguments over curriculum and health policy.
As different as all these circumstances are, they produce a similar emotional response — one that we label “anger.” Before exploring how Christians ought to manage this response, and at the risk of transgressing into armchair psychology, it is worth considering what might be below the surface. Why do we experience anger, and does it mask something else?
Fear is one prime suspect. The beloved Jedi master Yoda was onto something in “Star Wars: The Phantom Menace” when he told a young Anakin Skywalker: “Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.” In Anakin’s case, his fear was losing those he loved. When that fear was realized through the captivity and death of his mother, he responded by lashing out rationally — but evilly — in anger against those who caused his loss. For those of us who live in a closer galaxy, fear is an equally powerful motivator, and it is useful to question our anger to unmask the real culprit. What might we stand to lose if, for example, unfriendly political or moral ideologies come to power in our governmental, cultural, and even religious institutions?
The experience of anger is not inherently sinful, but we should seek to limit its shelf life. The longer anger lasts, the more dangerous it becomes.
Closely related to fear is a sense of powerlessness. This is behind so much bad behavior in stadiums and on highways across the country. As sports fans, we want to experience the thrill of victory. As commuters, we want to arrive on time and in one piece. Despite the irrationality of such expectations, it feels like a violation when they are frustrated. Something similar is at play for the parent whose children seem almost gleefully unwilling to obey or for the supervisor whose employees refuse to accept constructive feedback.
Anger is all too often par for the course when our impotence is made manifest. What more evidence do we need than our collective societal response to the COVID-19 pandemic? When the illusion of control over our health was shattered, how often did we resort to angry rhetoric (on all sides) rather than reflective melancholy?
Finally, anger can result from self-righteousness. When the vulnerable are victims of injustice, we are rightly angered. But we can just as easily become enraged when we ought to be merciful. This was Jonah’s problem when God granted repentance to the Ninevites and spared their city. In a sense, Jonah was virtue-signaling; that is, he identified as one of the “good guys” through his anger at the obvious iniquity of the “bad guys,” whose just reward was, in his estimation, well earned. Given his own bad behavior, this attitude was remarkable. But do we not all engage in similar hypocrisy?
Merciful and Gracious
As creatures whose purpose it is to image their Creator, we must seek to understand God’s relationship with anger. We are told for the first time in Exodus that God is “merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness.” This occurred on Mount Sinai as God gave the law to Moses in one of His more intimate preincarnate encounters with mankind (Exodus 34). This description is recalled numerous times throughout the rest of the Old Testament, including by the aforementioned Jonah, who despaired that it was true.
Even so, the Scriptures include dozens of references to God’s anger, often described as burning or being kindled. When it appears, it is directed at both individuals (including Moses himself and King Saul, among others) and nations (especially His own Israel). When it is expressed, it is often devastating. Moses missed the Promised Land, Saul lost the crown, and the Israelites were exiled to Babylon. How can this be for a God who describes Himself as “slow to anger”? The answer is that the description, while accurate, is also incomplete. “He will by no means clear the guilty,” the Exodus passage continues. If He is slow to anger, it is not because He lacks sufficient just cause; rather, His anger is restrained by His mercy. It is anything but performative.
Moses’ prayer to God in Numbers 14 gives us another insight into the purposes of both God’s anger and mercy. Because of the people’s perpetual rebellion, God had threatened to disinherit them and to fulfill His covenant to Abraham through Moses instead. In response, Moses did not bring up the innocence or even the repentance of the people, but instead reminded God of what He had said at Sinai.
Moreover, Moses appealed to God’s renown among the Egyptians: If the Israelites were to be destroyed in the wilderness, Egypt would doubt God’s power to save his people. The prior generation of Egyptians had been awed by God’s righteous anger, poured out on them for enslaving the Israelites. This generation, Moses argued, would now see that power best through God’s mercy. Whether by outburst or by restraint, the most important thing was that God’s glory be evident. “I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will show mercy on whom I will show mercy” (Exodus 33:19).
This is the attitude Jesus depicted when He threw the moneychangers out of the temple court. “Zeal for your house will consume me,” from Psalm 69, is what the disciples remembered when they recalled that event. Jesus was angry at the desecration of a holy place, yes. But rather than using this rage as a rallying point to gain influence, He was willing to be alienated even from His own family (as David’s psalm prophesied) over single-minded devotion to God’s glory. It is unlikely that most of us possess this kind of zeal in even our most righteously angry moments.
There is another incident of Jesus’ anger that is instructive. He was “deeply moved” at Lazarus’ grave, which some English translations interpret as “angry.” By waiting for Lazarus to die before taking action, Jesus intentionally created the space for a display of this strong emotion. Like us, He felt the pain of loss, and His spirit rebelled at the wrongness of the death of His beloved friend. Unlike us, He was not powerless to address it.
Mastering Anger
“Be angry and do not sin,” says Paul in Ephesians 4:26. How is this to be accomplished? “Do not let the sun go down on your anger, and give no opportunity to the devil,” Paul continues, offering the first clue. The experience of anger is not inherently sinful, but we should seek to limit its shelf life. The longer anger lasts, the more dangerous it becomes. Thus, Christians should be extremely wary of intentionally stoking anger, whether their own or that of others.
As a corollary, this means as well that we should think twice about seeking the affirmation of our anger by our friends (or social media followers). It may be satisfying to share an article about an outrageous current event, but it is unlikely to be edifying if fanning the flame is the goal. This is merely another form of performance, designed to reinforce a chosen identity.
The same would also apply to stirring up others to anger (because we might find it useful or entertaining) when we are not angry ourselves. In the 1997 film “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil,” the flamboyant Jim Williams (played by Kevin Spacey) remarks that “Living here [in conservative 1980s Savannah] pisses off all the right people.” The line is played for a laugh, but as anyone with a sibling will know, it is easy to understand the temptation — and the risks — of life as a provocateur. We should resist the urge to use anger in this way.
James warns of another problem with mere human anger: It “does not produce the righteousness of God.” We have already seen that God’s actions, including those motivated by wrath, are oriented toward a righteous purpose. James’ words offer a resounding statement that we are incapable of harnessing anger in this way. Like God, we should be “slow to anger.” But unlike Him, we must “put away all filthiness and rampant wickedness and receive with meekness the implanted word” (James 1:21). This is practically impossible to do in the heat of passion.
A good first step is to interrogate our own anger, as God interrogated Jonah’s. “Is it right for you to be angry?” He asked. We should ask the same, and when we do, we are likely to discover what is really bothering us. Are we afraid? “Do not fear,” God says in Scripture’s most repeated command, not to shame our fear, but to reassure us that because He is with us, we are more than conquerors and have nothing to fear. Are we frustrated and powerless? The whole creation groans along with us as we await its certain redemption. Are we lacking in mercy? We are always with God, and all that is His is ours; let us be willing that none should perish and ready to rejoice over those who were dead and may yet come alive. Perhaps, too, we are merely confused. This is why James tells us as well to be “quick to hear, slow to speak.” Greater understanding is helpful in addressing anger.
Once we understand our anger — or even if we do not — we must then control it. In Galatians 5, “fits of anger” are among the unrighteous works of the flesh that are opposed to the Spirit. The antidote is the fruit of the Spirit. Peace, patience, and self-control are all useful in restraining our anger, just as God restrains His. The act of courage does not happen in the absence of fear, but in its presence. Courage is thus the mastery of fear. In the same way, the Spirit can help us master anger.
In Galatians 5, “fits of anger” are among the unrighteous works of the flesh that are opposed to the Spirit. The antidote is the fruit of the Spirit. Peace, patience, and self-control are all useful in restraining our anger.
A return to the Skywalker saga illustrates the point. Despite Yoda’s warning, Anakin gives into his anger and becomes Darth Vader, an agent of evil, for nearly 20 years. In the climactic scene of “Return of the Jedi,” Vader threatens Luke’s sister Leia, thereby baiting his son into following the same dark path he himself once chose. Luke begins to succumb, unleashing his rage on his father and defeating him in combat. “Your hate has made you powerful!” gloats the emperor. But at the crucial moment, Luke repents, throwing away his light saber. He is willing to sacrifice his life rather than to destroy his soul by turning to the Dark Side, even if it means losing the war for galactic freedom. Though surely unintentionally, the scene echoes Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians: “Why not rather suffer wrong?”
A final encouragement toward a proper understanding of anger is found in the conclusion of Paul’s letter to the Ephesians — the same letter in which he tells them to be angry and yet not to sin. “For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood,” he reminds them, “but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 6:12). Anger may well make us more proficient in the use of earthly weapons, including words. But it is useless for helping us wield the sword of the Spirit, and besides, humans are not the target anyway.
In another science fiction movie, “The Matrix,” Morpheus explains to the newly freed Neo that, while their purpose is to rescue people from the machine-built matrix, those within it are part of the system. Until they, too, are released, they remain a danger to Neo and his friends and are thus fair game, collateral damage in the war against the machines. But this is not how Christians are to treat fellow image-bearers. We fight God’s enemies by loving ours, their earthly avatars. It will be much easier to obey this command when we are not angry.
“Blessed are the peacemakers,” Jesus said. The kind of peace He wants does not accept injustice, and God shows Himself to us in the pages of Scripture as a God whose anger burns against unrighteousness. But He is also always in complete control, restraining His anger both for compassion’s sake and for the most perfect accomplishment of His purposes.
As a people called according to those purposes, we, at our best, may feel a measure of His holy wrath toward the evils of the world. It is right and good that we should seek to ameliorate those evils. But we have not been granted the authority to give our anger free rein to define us, nor to guide our actions. “Vengeance is the Lord’s.” Instead, secure in the faith that all things will work together for our good and filled with the Holy Spirit, we can master our anger as we await His righteous rule.
Phil Mobley is a commercial real estate researcher living in the Boston area with his wife and four children.
Illustration by Julie Lai