Our Anger Toward Irrational Beings
My family and I were driving home after a wonderful impromptu chicken dinner with my parents. We had just hit i-5 and settled in for a 40-minute straight stretch. Our bellies were full, John Denver sang with great exuberance in the background – thanking God that he was a “country boy”, and I was sipping on a Mountain Dew goji citrus strawberry soda. Life was good. Life was peaceful. Life was getting ready to erupt into chaos.
Typically these types of articles take a dark turn at this moment with a car accident or some other horrifying event. Not so with my story. No, in my account, my youngest started crying. We still haven’t exactly figured out what his problem was (probably gas from all the fried chicken he ate), but my little one-year-old boy was working himself up into a baby rage.
Whimpers and grunts gave way to that sobbing angry cry that so many parents are familiar with. He was inconsolable. His mom couldn’t comfort him. His sisters couldn’t comfort him. John Denver couldn’t comfort him. It was a mess.
Driving with all of this going on was nerve-wracking. I felt myself move from concerned to irritated to angry. Here is where you shake your head and say, “tisk tisk. What an ungodly reaction,” and rightfully so. I was angry at something I shouldn’t have been.
After getting everyone home, unloaded, and into bed, I began thinking of my reaction to the situation. What immediately popped into my memory was Jonathan Edwards’s 15th resolution:
15. Resolved, never to suffer the least motions of anger towards irrational beings
This resolution has always stood out to me. We often act angrily toward irrational beings when they somehow interrupt our comfort. By being irrational, which is not governed by or according to reason, the being doesn’t know what it is doing. The deer that eats your garden – destroying months of hard work. The baby that cries in the night, interrupting your beauty sleep. The Yankees fan that won't stop talking about the 2009 win of the Phillies (ok, that is just mean-spirited).
On top of that, we get angry at inanimate objects. The printer won't print. The car won’t run. The toilet paper roller is empty. In all of these things, comfort is the issue of the day. A little discomfort shatters our tranquility, pushes us over the edge, and makes us forget our testimony. When looking for an example of godliness in this area, we need to look no further than the Son of God.
Throughout the Gospels, we see Christ angry but never at irrational beings. He gets angry at the human condition of sin. He is angry about the laws of men being placed over the commandments of God (Matthew 15:9). Jesus gets angry when children are marginalized and pushed to the side (Mark 10:13-16, Matthew 19:13-14). Jesus is angry at the hypocrisy of the Pharisees in more places than I can count (Matthew 23:25-32). Those who hindered folks from coming to God had their tables flipped by Jesus (John 2:13-17, Matthew 21:12-17).
We never see Jesus getting angry at a donkey, baby, or the office printer. Jesus never kicks the dog. Jesus is not obsessed with His comfort in the ways that we so often are, to our shame. There are several problems with anger toward irrational beings.
1. It shows a lack of patience (one of the fruits of the spirit). This fruit is diametrically opposed to the flesh’s fruit of sinful anger. Paul says, “I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am" (Phil. 4:11)
2. It shows a lack of trust. The Lord is sovereign over all things. When we get angry at an irrational being, we are in essence, angry with God for allowing it to happen.
3. It isn’t Christlike. There are plenty of things to be righteously angry about. Maybe we could focus more on those things.
4. It shows a need for more thankfulness.
That last point is the one that hit me hardest. I am thankful for my son. I love my son. I would die for my son. How can I so easily become angry toward this little irrational being ? The problem is not him – it’s his dad. May the Lord grow me in patience, thankfulness, trust, and Christlikeness.