What to Expect When I'm Angry With You

In 2013 I made goals about letter writing, book reading, and blog post writing and reported my progress here. It was a rewarding process through which I held myself accountable for doing exactly what I wanted to do but what for years I couldn't seem to consistently follow through on. I reached the end of the year, celebrated success, and charted a new course for this year. I found to be true for me individually what I knew to be true of teams I've coached: you get what you emphasize. Which also means you don't get what you don't emphasize. Finding my prayer life to be suffering, I placed the sole focus for 2014 on making a regular habit of sitting in front of this screen and typing out prayers on as close to a daily basis as possible.

I will periodically write here what I learn from this prayer journey. Today is one such post.

One of the greatest obstacles to my joy, I've found, is anger. More specifically, ill-will or hostility felt towards other individuals turns me bitter, and that feeling seems to run directly opposite to any sense of personal joy. For whatever reason, despite the fact that our anger actively keeps us from happiness, so many of us (myself included) grip as tightly as possible to the negativity we feel towards those who have drawn our ire. In this way, we poison ourselves. We trade peace and optimism for self-righteous victimhood, opportunities to smile for permanent scowls. Our anger does us no good.

In the past two months, I've learned a simple and full-proof way to combat this: I now pray for enemies. I'd love to say it's earth-shattering advice, but it's not. Effective advice rarely is. Rather, it follows simple logic: if I pray for joy and good and blessings and peace for those who have somehow wronged me or made me angry, I find it impossible not to root for them. I'm forced into a choice when I pray for them; I can either wish well for them through answered prayer, or I make a liar of myself to God. 

I've found that whenever I pray for someone like this, my focus turns from how I've been wronged to what good may come for them. I've got to tell you, it's a freeing exchange. To pray for another is to soften your heart regarding them. To soften your heart is to allow for your own joy. Whatever pride we perceive we may lose in letting go of our grudge is a pittance next to the freedom of moving on in joy.

So this month when someone who seems to have made it their personal mission to be my professional enemy took another shot at undermining the work of myself and others, I stayed angry for a bit. But when I got in front of this screen and started praying and realized it was still on my mind, I prayed for him. I was immediately free.

Occasionally I may be unhappy with a player or two. After all, I work with 16-18 year old's - we're not always going to see things they same way. Instead of stewing in frustration about those players, I sit down and pray for their good. Students as well. And parents. And bosses. Sometimes, when they've disobeyed and screamed all day and destroyed the house and physically assaulted me and used markers on every surface other than paper, prayer for my children necessarily softens this father's heart as well, enabling me to effectively love them and keep perspective, even as I work towards their good.

I don't often want to pray for them when I begin. But like a good workout that my body and mind groans against beginning, I always feel refreshed and glad once I'm done.

Where I'm Supposed to Be

I was angry with Isaiah.

It's difficult to express one's anger to an 9th Century B.C.E. prophet and expect any real results, but I was trying. Charged with the task of creating a sermon outline on Isaiah 65 for my Biblical exposition course, I found myself lost, frustrated, and thinking some not-so-biblical expletives to hurl at this prophet for not delineating more clearly his random shifts in speaker, topic, figurative language, lament, and prophecy. It's never good to be a lit guy struggling with literature. I winced at the thought of showing up to my class and telling the group, "Sorry, I've got nothin'." (I had already planned to drop my g's and use more slang in an effort to downplay my status as English teacher.)

At church on Sunday, my pastor asked me before the service how my preparation for the class had been going. I was blunt. "This is the most lost I've been in this class. I've wrestled with it, and I've got no clue what I'm going to do. I'm have no idea how I'll put something together by Wednesday. I just can't do it."

There are many proper responses here (though few helpful ones), and I expected one of the following:

• "I"m sure it will be fine. Don't worry."
• "No one can make sense of it. We're going to go ahead and skip this week's presentations."
• "I'm sorry to hear you struggling. You're a champion for fighting through and making an attempt."

I got none of that, though. His response to me was, "Just know, you're exactly where God wants you. This is where you're supposed to be."

Where I'm supposed to be? Lost? Clueless? Lacking all confidence? Dependent? Crawling out of my skin crazy because I just can't do it on my own?

Exactly. That's exactly where I'm supposed to be. And so are you.

Comfortable, confident, and capable feel good. So do independence and self-reliance. It feels gratifying to be put in a position where we know we can and will come through, that we are perfectly suited for the task at hand. It's refreshing to effortlessly accomplish what is set before us. But those are not times of growth. Those are not times of risk. And those are not where we are supposed to spend the majority of our time. 

It's hard to be dependent and uncomfortable. It's humbling. But it keeps the idea firmly in our head that we are not God, the world is not designed for our comfort, and we have mountains of improvement ahead of us. This week I battled more than Isaiah 65. I crashed my truck and have had to rely on my wife and friends for rides. I've been sick all week and have been without a voice 3 of the last 4 days, which makes fathering and teaching rather difficult. I have been anything but independent. But in my dependence I've witnessed the love of my wife, the loyalty of friends, the knowledge of my peers, and the grace of God. And I've come out stronger, better, and more grateful.

Coaches, teachers, pastors and parents are there to guide, to push, and to require of us more than our comfort. They are there to put us where we are supposed to be and don't want to go. Christ-follower or not, life is best lived in a state of dependence, in opportunities that require more of us than we can handle on our own. 

And for those of us with the pleasure of finding our identity in Christ, recognizing our dependence for every every breath, every piece of daily bread, and everything good in this world is a true act of worship.