My pastor, being the helpful fellow he is, gave me some stuff to read on anger and suggested I might want to wrestle with God a bit on this issue.

I’m thinking, “Eh, what do you know? You can ask any of my friends and I bet they will tell you I’m pretty hard to offend. I’m pretty calm under attack. I like to win people over, not stomp people into the ground. I don’t do rage.”

I have a reputation for being easy-going. Our house in Alaska was always full of needy people. People needing to be picked up at the airport and driven to doctors’ appointments, people needing money and food, people needing us to babysit their sled dogs and store their junk in our garage, and people needing me to take them shopping and to ship groceries to the village. (There were also some who came every year and spent their vacations fixing our house, building woodsheds, putting down flooring, installing water heaters…)

Since I always had a houseful of people coming and going at will and would do anything anyone asked and I never yelled at people, I thought I was never angry.

Well, that’s not true. I knew I was angry at some of them. I just thought it didn’t matter since I served them all and never blew up.

Then we adopted Shane.

I found out that I had a bad temper. I yelled at that poor little boy more than I’ve ever yelled at anyone.

Hey, I wasn’t the only one. We all yelled at Shane. I remember Nikki the Compassionate, when she was about two, stomping her foot and yelling, “Dane, dop dat!” And she’s told him to “stop that” at least once every day of her life since then, I think. 

Shane, AKA Dr. Destructo, could make me so angry I’d lose all reason. And yet, I still thought I wasn’t an angry person, really. It was just Shane. He was a full-time bundle of supercharged sin and shenanigans that wore me to a frazzle. 

And I think that most people who know me would say I’m not given to anger. I’m quick to apologize (even to Shane–especially to poor Shane), I’m not easily offended. I was talking to my mom and my sister today about it and they both said, “You’re the most mellow person around. You have never been angry.”

But God sees me a little more clearly than they do.

Sigh.

I had to deny a request my son made the other night. “It’s too dangerous, Shane. Believe me, I’d like to let you because it would be easier on me. But I love you too much to allow that.”

He hung his head. “Mom, sometimes I wish you didn’t love me so much.”

Yeah. I know the feeling, kid. God’s been loving me lately, and I sometimes wish he wouldn’t.

It’s not true that I’m not an angry person. My anger just doesn’t usually manifest itself in angry outbursts. My anger is manifest in my withdrawing emotionally from people. I still drive them to their doctors’ appointments and I still let them sack out on my couch and dig in my fridge and raid my bank account. I just don’t ever connect with them emotionally. 

Only I wrote back in March, in a comment to my friend Suzan:

I think there is a time to confront in love and a time to silently model Christ’s love. I just don’t think there is a time to avoid unpleasant people.

When I wrote that, I was oblivious to the people I was avoiding emotionally.

I can see now that the reason my anger would come in outbursts toward Shane when it never did anywhere else is that I couldn’t distance myself from him emotionally. I loved him and I wasn’t about to withdraw from him, so my anger came out in yelling.

Others would never know I was angry at them, but they would also never know my friendship.

And what happened to the anger when I let it make me withdraw from someone? Sometimes the person would drift out of my life and it would just be a missed opportunity to love. Other times, if the person I was trying to avoid stayed too long at my house, my anger would turn into pretty serious hatred. I can I remember several people I hated over the last twenty-five years. I had to struggle and pray and learn to love every time. Sometimes I never did love them. They died or moved away before I managed to fix my heart.

So what makes me angry at people? I didn’t get angry at all the people who stayed in our house. I loved many of them. Most of them, probably. What causes me to love one guy who costs me and to hate another guy who costs me?

That’s not going to be a pretty discovery. I’m pretty sure.

I’m not going there today. 

I’m going to take a nap today.

So I am always hearing people talking about spiritual warfare and it usually goes something like this:

 I was writing this book and all this stuff went wrong, I had a car accident, the air conditioner broke, the dog died, the kid was caught smoking pot, the husband left me (he couldn’t support my art–he was jealous), but I gathered people to pray and we did battle with Satan. He didn’t want this book to be published, but we persevered and, Praise the Lord, God won. The book was published and so many people have written to me tell me how it has helped them.

The book in question is usually a category romance or something similar. 

I’m not saying that people can’t be helped by reading category romances. God was pleased to save me as I read a novel. An obscure novel called Papa’s Daughter.  The author spent months writing it and persevered in publishing it. I am grateful she fought the battles along the way to publication.

 But I always kind of wonder how the authors who are fighting the battles know they are fighting Satan and not God. How do they know the aren’t beating an ass that has stopped because there’s an angel blocking the road? They say they know they have a calling from God to write and write they will. When I read some of their books I wonder why he didn’t give them skill along with the calling, but I really can’t say they aren’t called to write. I can’t say they haven’t fought spiritual battles and persevered.

Only they can know whether they are hearing God aright.

As for me, I never seem to get that kind of spiritual battle. God never says to me, “I want you to write this book/eat this ice cream cone/read that novel/have a pleasant visit with friends and I want you to do this enjoyable thing no matter what forces come against you.”

My spiritual battles usually go something like this:

God: Sally, I want you to ask So as So for forgiveness because you sinned against him.

Sally: I’m not sorry and I won’t say I am.

God: That’s OK, I’ll take care of that. You’ll be sorry when I get done with you. Don’t trouble your little head about it.

My spiritual warfare has never been me, the holy one, fighting the forces of evil that are come against me to thwart me as I write a book or do some other enjoyable activity. My spiritual warfare has always been me rebelling against God’s clear command and him having to discipline me.

So what does it mean that we are warring against powers and principalities? I don’t really know. I do pray for my elders and I do pray for some authors I love and some preachers who are doing good in the kingdom. Sometimes I pray that the powers and principalities won’t be allowed to put distractions in their way. I pray that their family lives will run smoothly so they will have time and energy to bear up the church as God has called them to do. And I ask God to use whatever obstacles he does allow, to strengthen them. But I mostly pray that these men won’t fall to temptation. Sexual temptation, pride, anger, greed…I think all these are temptations that elders and preachers have to face.

But we all face temptation. So Paul, in Ephesians 6, gives us the little talk about how we are to love one another and serve one another and then he says:

¹¹Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.

 ¹²For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.

 ¹³Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.

The armour of God is meant to help us to stand against the wiles of the devil. Does that mean we are to stand with our published books in our hands in the midst of the ashes when Satan burns down our houses? Or does that mean we are to stand praising God when the house burns down and the book gets rejected. I just can’t think that God cares all that much about our books getting published. I think he wants us to shine like gold within our own spheres of influence and he may give some wider spheres than others. But the battle isn’t about getting the book published or preaching the persuasive sermon. The battle is about living with integrity.

We are to withstand in the evil day. I think the evil day is the day we are tempted to turn our backs on God. Getting a rejection isn’t the evil day. The evil day is the day we don’t want to obey God. When we say, “You aren’t trustworthy and good. I will not obey you.” When we lie about God in that way, that’s an evil day.

We will either stand with God or against him. We either fight the devils or we welcome them in for tea. To fight evil is to obey God.

Yes, write the book if that’s what he’s commanded.

As for me I have enough trouble obeying the very clear commands, like: Raise up your children in the fear and admonition of the Lord. Love your neighbor as yourself. Do not let this book of the law depart from you mouth, meditate on it day and night. Pray without ceasing. These are my battlegrounds. These are the places where I am tempted to shirk.

I found this in my drafts folder. I wrote it several weeks ago.

My dad is dying. Mom is afraid to stay alone with him so I didn’t go to church on Sunday.

So this morning I listened to last Sunday’s sermon on the Internet. (May 31, 2009)

It was on it resentment.

Well, how about that? Was it just last night that I was milking my resentment against someone I’m supposed to love? Was it just last night that I was on the phone with my friend, telling her all about the shabby treatment I was receiving? 

Yikes.

This is how God is. I want him to take my side. I want him to wipe these difficult people out of my life. I don’t want them dead, really, but if he would move them to Australia, he’d get no argument from me. So what does God do? He plunks these people right down in my lap and he tells me to love them.

Knowing he’s doing this, you’d think I’d obey. Nope. I complain, instead. I don’t look at these injured people as opportunities to see how God will give me strength and resources to meet their needs. Instead I focus on how limited my resources are and how offensive it is when people are rude and bossy and selfish. 

This is the truth: Sometimes life is really difficult–your dad is dying or your elderly mother-in-law moves in with you or you have physical or financial troubles you think you need to focus on. And right when you are struggling with these things, some wounded, obnoxious, selfish person (often a Christian brother who should know better) will force his way into your life and make all kinds of demands on your time.

But what about Jesus? He is facing the hardest thing any man will ever face–he’s going to take the blame for sins he never committed. He’s going to bear the wrath of God. And even as he carries that heavy load, he has to deal with the selfish friends who don’t support him, who whine and bicker and demand attention from him.

Now he asks me to take up my cross and follow him. He asks me to love people when they are unkind and abusive. He asks me to forgive them when they blame me for their sin.

So, here’s the pitiful thing: I wrote that several weeks ago. And yesterday afternoon I told one of the elders from my church, that I was resentful toward someone and I knew I was sinning. He prayed for me. I still engaged in a verbal battle with this person today.

He asked why I didn’t like him.

So I told him. 

I didn’t tell him everything. But I told him a few things. He couldn’t accept the criticism. Not surprising. People can’t usually take such things from people who don’t love them and don’t have their best interest at heart.

Here’s the question I need to ask myself: How did he know I didn’t like him? Ah, I haven’t been as kind and as loving as I like to credit myself with being. 

What is the deal? Why am I unwilling to love this person?

If I am not willing to return blessing for injury, I’m not willing to be conformed to image of Christ. I’m unwilling to believe that God knows best. I’m just going to sit down and refuse to obey him.

So I had to go back and listen to the sermon on resentment again. And then I listened to the sermon on loving your enemies (June 14).

 And I can clearly see that  instead of obeying God and loving this person, I’ve settled for clenching my teeth and serving him grudgingly and calling it good. I’ve been toughing it out when I have to be around him, and avoiding him when I can get away with it.

This week there has been no way to avoid him. And why is that? It seems that this is the week the Lord has chosen to begin dealing with this particular sin of mine.

Why this week? 

I suspect my pastor prayed that his sermon would have some effect in the lives of his listeners.

I wouldn’t put it past him. He probably has his wife and several of the elders and various other church members joining him in this. How does a sinner stand a chance in such a church?

Frankie Schaeffer wrote a scene in his novel Portofino, that had the mother “sharing” the gospel with a Frenchman on a train. She pulled out her gospel walnut to aid her in the telling of the old, old story, and her son, Calvin, was pretty embarrassed by her pushing her white-bread, evangelical Christianity on a salty Frenchman who had no desire to hear. The walnut was especially offensive, I believe, in that it signified a preachy, shallow sharing of the gospel with strangers.

I hated the book, because I think Frankie was too bitter and mean. I have no doubt that there were problems in his family. I was the child of missionaries during the same era. My parents knew the Schaeffers, in fact. I have a note that Francis wrote to my father. He enclosed a check and urged him to leave the mission board and go off on his own as the Schaeffers had done with L’ ABri. We know a lot of missionary kids from that time and there are some unhappy memories. There was some hypocrisy, no doubt.

It was a different age. A time when parents didn’t believe they should apologize to their children if they sinned against them and when children of ministers and missionaries were expected to look perfect to the outside world. There wasn’t a lot of mercy available to these children, and not a lot of love. They were often sent away to boarding schools. The missionaries were then free to preach to other people’s children while they neglected their own. I’m not sure that excuses the Frankie Schaeffers and the Paul Youngs of our generation for their public displays of bitterness, though.

Still, I must admit that I share Frankie’s disdain for the gospel walnut.

I’ve never liked the little books made with the colored felt pages or the bracelets my kids bring home from camp with the different colored beads or the tracts people leave on the backs of toilet tanks in Burger King.

I am sure God can use all of these methods to get the gospel to a person. I just am not convinced these are the best ways to share the faith. I wonder if we aren’t just to work hard with our hands, love the body of Christ, love our neighbors, and wait for them to ask us for a reason for the hope that is within us. I wonder if we aren’t to share the gospel in the context of our daily living as God gives us opportunity.

I have my own experience with a gospel-sharing tool, though, that I’m thankful for. My sister wrote an obituary for my dad last week and in it she mentioned that his youngest daughter was named Sarah.

Most people don’t know that Sally is the nickname for Sarah, and I’ve never been called Sarah, so most of my friends have never known that my name is Sarah. My parents never intended to call me Sarah. I was Sally (or Tadly) from babyhood. The only time anyone ever called me Sarah was when my dad was evangelizing. 

Sarah, in Hebrew, means Princess, and my middle name, An, in Chinese, means Peace. When the old Chinese women would come over and pinch my cheeks and ask my name, my dad would say, “She’s named Princess of Peace. We named her after the Prince of Peace. Have you ever heard of him?”

I don’t know if he had any success introducing Jesus this way to the old Chinese women, but his preaching had an effect on me. When I was a teen-ager I used to laugh about it. I’m named after Jesus Christ. Who can live up to that one? I might as well party on. Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow, I die.

But I knew from my earliest days that I was at enmity with God and I needed the Prince of Peace to reconcile me to my righteously offended Creator. That’s a good bit of knowledge to have, and I’m thankful that I heard my father tell it.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

I was sitting around with my brothers and sisters last week discussing love. Some people don’t love us the way we want to be loved, my brother said, but that doesn’t mean they don’t love us. If a man’s wife curses at him that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love him. If a husband yells at his wife, he may still love her. A father may never tell his kids he loves them, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love them. It just means he’s undemonstrative. If he ignores his kids and doesn’t edify them and discipline them, that is not evidence that he doesn’t love the children, it just means he’s busy working and he’s tired.

And then I saw my brother petting my old dog. He had his face right down next to hers and he was whispering sweet nothings in her ear. “You’re just a sweet thing, aren’t you?” he said. “And your face is all white now, but it’s beautiful. You are such a pretty girl. Yes, you are.”

It struck me that if I yelled at that sweet old girl and called her ugly names and then I kicked her outside and ignored her, my brother would be appalled. He would not mistake my ugliness for love. He knows better than to abuse a dumb beast.

Why then is it OK for a mother to yell at her children or for a husband to neglect his wife? 

Why do we say you can be undemonstrative and still be loving? Love that is undemonstrated is invisible. It doesn’t exist. Jesus demonstrated his love by dying for sinners. He also keeps his promise to never leave us or forsake us. And he intercedes for us daily.

It’s not OK to say, “I love my wife, and when I yell at her that’s no indication that I hate her.” Or, “I love my kids and when I cut them down cruelly that doesn’t mean I don’t love them.”

I fail at love all the time. I fail to love God. I fail to love my neighbor. I fail to love my parents and my siblings and my children. I failed to love my husband. I love myself, just fine. After that I’m pretty much falling short every day.

But, by God’s grace, I hope I never say it’s not sin when I fail to demonstrate my love for my God and my neighbor.

We are not left to guess at what love is. Love is patient, love is kind….

We seem to want to add all kinds of things to the list. We want to say, love is undemonstrative, love is too tired to interact with you.

Is that how we want God to love us? Why then do we think we should love other people that way?

What if we define hatred? Could we say:

Hatred is impatient, hatred is unkind. It envies, it boasts, it is proud. It is rude, it is self-seeking, it is easily angered,  it keeps a long record of wrongs. Hatred delights in evil and grieves over truth. It always neglects, always worries, always doubts, always gives up.

I am so often impatient with my kids. When I am impatient, I am not loving them. I am hating them. When I am rude, I am hating. when I am selfish, I am hating. When I neglect the ones I should love and when I give up, I am hating.

It’s not OK to call evil, good. It’s not OK to say, “I’ve always loved you,” when you’ve spent years belittling someone. It’s not OK to say, “I just didn’t know how to show it. I’m just undemonstrative.”

The thing to say when you have treated someone with hatred instead of love is, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t love you. I’m sorry, I was selfish and didn’t want to take the time to love you. I’m sorry I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to care about your needs. I’m sorry I was drowning my sorrows in alcohol or sitcoms or creative pursuits and I didn’t have the energy to spend time with you. I’m sorry I didn’t believe God and love you the way he commanded me to love. I’m sorry I loved myself more than I loved you.”

We all fail at loving. We are sinners. But God forbid that we pretend it’s OK to not love because we are nondemonstrative or depressed by nature. We are all sinners by the old nature. We need to fight that.

We can start by owning our sin. That would be good first step.