Recently, my
daughter Bethany’s friend Natalie asked me if, should someone do something bad
to a friend, I’d be angry. I answered her honestly: ‘I don’t know. I can imagine
myself being numb, and deeply sad, but angry? I’m not sure.’
‘Well,’ said
Natalie (slightly embarrassed at correcting someone almost four times her age)
‘It’s nice that you don’t get angry, but don’t you think there are some
situations where it’s right to be
angry?’ And of course, she’s quite correct.
At church last
Sunday each verse of one of the songs began ‘Take us.’ In singing, we were
inviting God to take us in our imagination to symbolic places which powerfully
reflect aspects of Christian faith. Take us, for example, to the river ‘flowing
with grace’; take us to heaven itself to hear the cry that ‘mercy has triumphed
over judgement.’
It occurred to
me that there are journeys God wants to take us on as individuals. Journeys
across the street or across the world. Inner journeys, on which we discover
more about ourselves and our destinies. Intellectual and spiritual journeys as
we explore faith more deeply. Journeys which begin when we say ‘take me’ – with
all the reassurance of those words that we do not travel alone. But does God do
journeys into anger?
I remembered
Ralph McTell’s powerful song Streets of
London. The singer addresses someone whose life is basically OK but who has
been complaining that they feel lonely and down. ‘Let me take you by the hand
and lead you through the streets of London.’ There, they see cameos of
desperately sad, impoverished people, ignored and abandoned, the tragic
inhabitants of the capital’s streets. ‘I’ll show you something to make you
change your mind.’
The response
McTell expects from his listener is probably gratitude – gratitude that his or
her life is so much better than the lives of those whose living room is a
London street. But it seems to me that anger is an equally appropriate
response.
Why are people
living like this? Why are we, as a society, as religious groups, as individuals
not making more of a difference in the lives of those who suffer?
Anger is an
appropriate response to so many issues – the futility of war, the
destructiveness of terrorism, the pervasiveness of an economic system which
treats us simply as producers and consumers, global inequalities, the scandal
of malnourished children in the heart of Africa, the misuse of power in high
places.
Are we numb and
sad, but not angry? Or not yet even sad, because the problems seem too immense
for us to grapple with and for sanity’s sake, we’ve shut them out? Do we assume
Christians must be gentle, sweet, forgiving, and not knowing what to do with
our anger, pretend it doesn’t exist?
Well, gentle
Jesus could do anger impressively when necessary – notably in the Temple when
he was infuriated that the religious leaders were making a business out of
faith. God does wrath impressively too, angry at the bad stuff we do, and the
way it messes up our lives and the lives of others.
The anger of God
is not that eye-popping, indisciplined, irrational raging springing from lack
of self-control (of which, despite what Natalie thinks, I am very occasionally
guilty when I’m stressed out.) This destructive raging is the brother of
hatred.
The anger we
need is focussed, controlled rage which walks hand in hand with love, love for
both oppressor and oppressed, love which sees both as victims while not
absolving the oppressor from blame. This is the anger which gives us resolve
and strength, the imperative to work for change, through serving, not seeking
power, through loving, not wielding violence.
And we’ll
address not just global issues, but issues in our own communities which leave
people wounded, oppressed and heartbroken. And we’ll be aware both of those
whose suffering is obvious, and those who know they are fortunate, but feel
only emptiness.
I realise that
the seeds of everything wrong in the world produce shoots in my own heart. How
can I stand up, in anger working for change, without being a hypocrite? Only if
daily I am taken to a place where I hear that cry of mercy, forgiveness and
healing. Forgiven and healed through the death and life of Jesus Christians
want the whole world to find the same mercy and wholeness.
Take me. The God
of mercy takes us into the streets our communities, the streets of the world,
agents of change announcing in word and action to all who despair ‘Let me show
you something to make you change your mind.’
Lord, help me to
be angry.
(Christian Viewpoint column from the Highland News 18th October 2012)
No comments:
Post a Comment