“The Two Ugly Siblings of Anger and Fear”

Stan Moody:

These days of political turmoil find many of us professing Christians trying to bridge the gap between “Truth” that can set us free (John 8:32) and the conflicting pop-theology of friends and family on the Christian Right. We may find ourselves awakening at 1:00 am or so and spending the next 2-3 hours agonizing over what we believe is happening and how it can be prevented. For me, it runs the gamut of presuming the worst of all outcomes but hoping for the best. 

My friend, Christian writer, Rachel Ophoff, recently shared with her followers the anguish she experiences in those sleepless moments of terror. Somehow, they have become a gateway to joy – “This is a road I’ve walked before, and I’m pretty sure I can do it again!” she writes. Her primary point of reference was the 2003 tragic loss of her teenage daughter, Catherine. 

When Grief Becomes a Journey:

At the risk of failing to do justice to Rachel, here are some of her thoughts on the processing of what she came to label in her nighttime sweats as “grief.”

It started right after Trump’s inauguration. You would think, with his promise to become a dictator on Day One, I wouldn’t have been surprised. But the speed with which this happened knocked me off my pins. 

Not surprisingly, the two ugly siblings of Anger and Fear began showing up at my house in the middle of the night. Jostling me out of a sound sleep, they snickered while I tossed and turned and worried for everyone I love.

Of course, I busted open my arsenal and broke out the weapons for spiritual warfare. Praying and praising and standing on Scripture helped but did not vanquish the anger I would feel.  That’s when I began to realize there was more going on than just my response to danger. This vicious cycle of fear and anger that was ricocheting around in my brain felt vaguely familiar.

That’s when I realized: “This is grief!”

Suddenly, like the boisterous bellow of a Pentecostal preacher, my soul exploded with the joy of revelation: “HALLELUJAH! Now I know what I’m dealing with!”

We are experiencing a national explosion of grief. The good news: any or all of us can decide that our grief will be a journey. It will be hard. Yes, we will have to change. We will not be the same people we were before. There is no going back. 

I found myself groping for a biblical explanation of this anxiety typical of “Type A” personalities like Rachel’s and mine. The book of Philippians is a letter from the Apostle Paul, likely a type A+ personality, imprisoned in Rome for preaching the gospel. Phil 4:11, 12 spoke volumes to me:

I do not speak from want, for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am. I know how to get along with humble means, and I also know how to live in prosperity; in any and every circumstance I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance and suffering need.

I would take this as an admission by Paul that because of his devotion to Christ, his circumstances are always in a state of unexpected flux.

Where Truly is a Believer’s Comfort Zone?

Currently, we are all being thrown out of our comfort zones. One political group may have been denied the financial benefits of the American Dream and is angry. Another group of us may be getting by OK but are fearful of falling out of our comfort zones. A third group may have become so comfortable they are bored with the status quo and are looking for action. Most of us pin our hopes on the guarantee of the state’s Bill of Rights instead of Eternity’s unmerited love. 

Like all of us, Paul is stuck between competing forces of what may be labeled as “good” and “evil.” He rejoices, however, in something from which most of us Americans – especially white, male Americans – have been shielded for our entire lives. When entitlement to a better life here is our goal, we are inclined to set aside for emergency the powerful resources of our faith.

Contentment and comfort here and now are no substitute for hope when our lives feel like they are spiraling downward. The pump of anger and fear quickly gets primed, especially in the middle of the night when we envision all the rest of you dudes to be peacefully at sleep. 

As with Paul in his abnormalities, Rachel offers us another way – peace in knowing from experience that we can break through. We insomniacs have learned that things seem far less hopeless as the morning light breaks: “(God’s) anger is but for a moment; His favor is for a lifetime; weeping may last for the night, but a shout of joy comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:5). 

Despite Everything Else, the Kingdom of God is at Hand:

We may well be looking in vain for “morning in America”, a hope that Ronald Reagan once promised but now seems far beyond reach. The Confessing Church may indeed be stalled in its pursuit of the American Dream of prosperity and success. Yet, in the words of Jesus and John the Baptist, “…the Kingdom of God is at hand.” What better reason to repent?

What our nation needs from people of faith is not a new moral code. The 1st Ten turned out to speak volumes about our incapacities for righteousness. What we really crave is the clear and convincing message that Paul learned only through his times of uncertainty: “I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that my circumstances have turned out for the greater progress of the gospel” (Phil 1:12). 

That is the point at which God’s people can indeed shout from the rooftops with Rachel, “HALLELUIAH! Enough of Anger and Fear! Now I know what I’m dealing with!”