Summary: Anger drains us when it is either displaced or misplaced. But when we learn to replace it with a relationship to Christ, it becomes energizing.
One day when Margaret and I were college students, she said, “I think you ought to know that the deacons are going to ask for our pastor’s resignation.” We were members of the same church and had shared in appreciation for the thoughtful, exciting sermons our pastor brought us week by week. But her family was more connected to the inner circle than mine, and so she got some insider information.
It shocked me. I was stunned. I could not believe it. Frankly, I just about idolized the man. He had come to our church when I was eighteen years old, and had demonstrated to me that you didn’t have to park your brains outside when you came to church! He mattered to me; he had influenced me deeply; it was to him I had gone only a few months earlier when I first responded to God’s call to ministry. The very idea that the church’s deacons would want to get rid of somebody this valuable made no sense to me at all.
Sure enough, in a week or two it was announced that there would be a special business meeting to bring up “concerns” about the pastor. I sat through that meeting in misery. To my astonishment, from every corner of a tense sanctuary, filled with people I didn’t even know were members of our church, came words that were incredible, awesome, hateful.
One father stood up and claimed that the pastor had written a dirty book and had given it to his lovely daughter as part of her preparation for marriage. It later turned out that it was a book on sexuality, from a Christian perspective, and that the illustrator, not the author, had a name similar to our pastor’s. But that’s just how irrational things were at that meeting.
One husband and wife stood up together, and, with their voices choked with emotion and their faces twisted in pain, cried out that the pastor had ignored them, had refused to visit them, had insulted them, and they wanted him out of there. Still another man, the church’s elder statesman, a man so entrenched in the leadership of our church that when I was a small boy I thought his last name was “Moderator” -- this elder statesman rose to lay out the deacons’ concerns, but would only say, “It is just a whole lot of little things, no one big thing, just a lot of small complaints; but we think he has to go.”
On and on it went that horrible night. Certainly there were some who defended our pastor; of course there were many who sat in silence, some of them weeping. But the more the angry ones spoke, the more the mood of anger grew and spread around the room, and by the time it was all over, the church voted to dismiss that pastor, and, I guess, if somebody had not pronounced the benediction, they would have lynched him and boiled his wife and children in oil. So corrosive, so pervasive, so devastating, so contagious, so draining, is the power of anger.
Anger destroys lives, anger damages institutions, anger warps the fabric of society, and, most of all, anger drains us when we submit to it. Anger renders us incapable of healthy relationships. To say it as clearly as possible: hot heads make cold hearts. Anger drains us, it exhausts us. Hot heads make icy cold hearts.