The Gospel, I’ve learned, is more than a Bible verse to be memorized. But the Gospel was useless to me, as it was to many people from confusing backgrounds. Because at the end of the day, I can pray and read the Bible and ask God for forgiveness. But what do I do with all this anger?
I think of injustice at the shelter when I hold a chubby toddler in my arms who, at best will grow up never knowing his daddy, the abuser. I can imagine his journey to becoming a man and how disjointed church may seem from what he’s experienced in life. His anger may resonate in his life as mine has. When no one dared to explain why it had to happen to him.
The world tells us to exploit our anger for power. (You have your choice of passive aggression or stubborn confrontation!) The church tells me to hide it. But this ball of anger, it has nowhere to go. Church, I concluded years ago, was not the answer for this anger. So I spilled it on the pages of poetry, and became quite practiced at artfully conveying several different types of frustration, confusion and awkwardness through writing. I could recreate anger. But I could never destroy it.
When I came to know the Lord, my anger felt different. For the first time, I didn’t feel like stuffing it away, but I felt free to be honest about it. To feel deeply for injustice and love those who had felt such sin. To empathize for those who had dealt with loss and pain.
When I found out about the Gospel’s implication of propitiation, I was rejoicing of what others may find disturbing- the appeasement or satisfaction of God’s wrath so that we may be free! When Christ died on the cross, the wrath of God was satisfied through His death. The ultimate justice was paid, and we could finally be right with God. That speaks to me, because of the deep satisfaction to know that God’s wrath means He cares. He’s seen the injustice of sin in the world and He is angry. I felt as if the emotion I thought was not applicable to the church was actually real in Christ. God got mad. He was angry against our sin. The anger I feel can now go on the cross- of the sin others cast on me, because of this broken world. I am not responsible for holding it any longer. God is angry, too, and His anger is cast on the cross.
I have not fully digested what this means, except that I am freer than I imagined. To embrace this reality means full forgiveness, even to those I don’t feel can be rightly forgiven without Christ. And to myself, who has fallen so short with my constant sin, that His anger is cast on the Cross so He may welcome me with open arms.
” But he was wounded for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his stripes we are healed.
All we like sheep have gone astray;
we have turned—every one—to his own way;
and the Lord has laid on him
the iniquity of us all.”
Isaiah 53:5-6
“.. As soon as someone accuses me or criticizes me, as soon as I am rejected, left alone, or abandoned, I find myself thinking, “Well, that proves once again that I am a nobody.” … [My dark side says,] I am no good… I deserve to be pushed aside, forgotten, rejected, and abandoned. Self-rejection is the greatest enemy of the spiritual life because it contradicts the sacred voice that calls us the “Beloved.” Being the Beloved constitutes the core truth of our existence.”
-Henri Nouwen
“The house sits stale, it lets you roam
Inside it just don’t feel like home now…”
I am encouraged by what the Lord is doing in my family, but it doesn’t mean I’m content with it.
I’m hit in the face with the reality of the darkness of my family’s past and the brokenness of the direction of our future. Each time the Lord moves, I’m learning that there is not a quick answer- a proclamation of love and affection that ends with a big hug and everyone is happy. We love each other- more than anyone in the world. That’s the most difficult part- when the wounds are out of love, misdirected.
The light is that the Lord is finally blessing my relationships with some kind of honesty. Instead of hiding behind thinly veiled lies, we are beginning to tell at least half-truths. But as the light shines and reveals who we are, I’m seeing just how dark and broken everything really is.
Growing up, I heard that if we had any sin against the Lord He wouldn’t answer any of our prayer requests. In fact, mom has threatened us that if we don’t love her the way she wants us to (succumb to her control), God won’t answer our prayers. My child-like instinct is telling me to just be good- good enough that I can use my goodness as leverage to gain God’s power.
How wrong that is.
I wait, knowing that Grace will abound. I wait, knowing my family may still be in pieces for a very long time, that our brokenness will be left in the dark, that our reputation will still be perfect, that the church people will praise us. I wait, knowing my mother’s shame if she knew I have stood in front of 100 students to share of my dad’s abuse and our repaired relationship. I wait, seeing clearly the layers upon layers of narcissism, greed, anger, control and sin we will have to go through to even begin to consider our need for Christ as a family. But I wait, knowing that the Lord is good, that He conquers, that His will be done.
So I wait.
“The house sits stale, it lets you roam
Inside it just don’t feel like home now
I promise hope will pull you out
For that’s love is all about
Close your eyes this time
Cause trust is all we have tonight
But trust will be forever
Safe your dreams will be
Cause trust will be the light tonight
So close your eyes this time”
-Future of Forestry, Close Your Eyes
Recently, I’ve been asking the Lord for a kingdom perspective in life. So many times, I pray His will be done, and many more I pray for mine to be. Yet, in the midst of His Kingdom, what is important? I have been asking the Lord that it be close to my heart, and it has given me such a deep imprint of the Gospel in everyday life.
Today, I picked my sister up from the airport. I was nervous at what was to come. My recent interactions with my family has brought me to a desperation of how messed up and far away “things should be.” Yet, today, I was surprised. She expressed genuine humility that I hadn’t seen of her in years. For the first time in my life, I saw tears of joy in her eyes as she described a relationship in her life that was good. It wasn’t the Lord, but it was totally of the Lord. Come to think of it, I had never been witness to any emotion besides anger and anxiety from anyone in my family, to the point where those two emotions were the only justified genuine emotions we were allowed to feel. To see her tears of joy was like a premonition that the Lord is breaking down the hard walls.
I thought redemption for my family would come like a torrent that would shake them all awake. But I’m seeing it as a soft wind, in small moments like seeing those tears of joy. It is not over, we are not safe. My heart has broken many times over my family, and will most likely break many more times.
But I know one day, they will be so overwhelmed by the message of the Gospel that no reputation or stability or performance or idols of love or perfection can keep them from the Love of Christ.
“O Lord, my heart is not lifted up;
my eyes are not raised too high;
I do not occupy myself with things
too great and too marvelous for me.
But I have calmed and quieted my soul,
like a weaned child with its mother;
like a weaned child is my soul within me.
O Israel, hope in the Lord
from this time forth and forevermore.”
Psalm 131
