Atonement Theories & Anger, Part 1: Human Anger, God’s Anger
Mako A. Nagasawa
Introduction
As the death toll from police brutality piled up by 2020, many people in my church family expressed what is often called “black anger”: black people in the U.S. being angry about racial injustice. On a few Sunday services, several black individuals cried out, lamented, and shared how absolutely furious they were. They were angry not only at those police killings of unarmed black people like Breonna Taylor and George Floyd, but also at co-workers and supervisors who had no sympathy for what it felt like to be black, or have black children, and fear that the police could take your life at any moment, and get away with it. They skewered (correctly) the tendency for white American police and media to publish supposed “moral justifications” for a black person’s life to be not worth much after all: this or that person had a history of drug use; this or that person had been previously incarcerated; that person was wearing a hoodie and looked suspicious; jogger Ahmaud Arbery was exploring a housing construction site in his own neighborhood before he jogged away, something that countless white people do without being suspected of theft; etc. Some people in my church family had had personal experiences with the police – or close family and friends who did – that were gut-wrenching. The news and posted videos did not simply move us to talk about how to change policies regarding the police. People were being forced to relive trauma.
Meanwhile, other voices – especially on social media – expressed negative views about “black anger” and its validity. Some denied the problem altogether. Others said that they have a hard time learning when people are “angry.”
Since I serve on our church’s Elder Team, I wrote a letter with my fellow leaders to the church family. Words can only do so much, but they can do something. What I thought was important about this letter was that it helped us navigate the reality that different people had different levels of comfort with anger in general, and “black anger” in particular. We said:
“At times, we may wonder how to share in one another’s anger, anguish, confusion, fear, and sorrow. Being a multi-racial and multi-ethnic community of Jesus-followers is never easy, and these times don't make it easier. But we are gifts to one another. And as we center our lives in Jesus and the shalom of God he brings by the Spirit, we learn from him how to be the gifts he intended. The anger, anguish, and pain in our church family is a sharing in the anger, anguish, and pain Jesus showed by the tomb of Lazarus (John 11:1 – 44). Jesus invited his disciples to share in his own fear and sorrow in Gethsemane (Matthew 26:36 – 46), so we remind ourselves not to isolate, but to let others know us even when we feel “messy.” We invite one another, and others who don’t know Jesus, to share in the emotions Jesus had and has, because Jesus’ emotional life heals ours. We share in Jesus’ responses to our broken world this way. We won’t always know what to say or do, but we trust him to be present and guide us.”
Was I faithful to Scripture in saying that? What about other Scriptures that discuss anger? Would this be true about anger in general, not just “black anger” about racial injustice in particular? What about times our anger is misguided? On what basis did I assert that we can invite non-Christians to Jesus, “to share in the emotions Jesus had and has, because Jesus’ emotional life heals ours”? Why do I think that is the truth about things?
My Early Approach to Anger in Myself and Others
When I was in my 20’s, I started out in ministry as a small group leader for a larger ministry. I approached the subject of “anger” by doing a topical survey of the New Testament. What happened when I did that? I settled comfortably into the following.
James says to be “quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger” (ὀργήν) because human “anger” (ὀργὴ) does not produce the righteousness of God (James 1:19 – 20; 3:5 - 7). Taking the larger context of James might narrow or focus our understanding of what James is talking about, which is worth discussion later. Regardless, it seems sufficient to say that Scripture acknowledges that we get angry, and seeks to provide guardrails and wisdom for us. These instances of Scripture seem to distance our anger from God’s anger, even though it uses the same word for both: ὀργὴ, in places like Mark 3:5; John 3:36; Romans 1:18; 2:5, 8; 5:9; 12:19.
Jesus warns us that anger is dangerous to ourselves in some sense (Matthew 5:21 – 22). Jesus uses the same word for “anger” (ὀργὴ) that Paul does in Ephesians 4:26, which raises a puzzling question of how to understand both statements together. According to most interpreters, Jesus can be understood as cautioning us that harboring and developing anger over time is the main problem. That makes good sense, since in Matthew 5:21 – 22, Jesus seems to be describing three escalating states of anger with three escalating states of double jeopardy.
Moreover, we have to factor in what Jesus says next. Jesus tells us that if someone is angry with us, we must be proactive and try to address the conflict (Matthew 5:23 – 26). In effect, Jesus tells us to care about other people’s anger as much as our own, which is the surprise element. It is exceedingly doubtful that Jesus wants us to approach other people by saying their anger with us is intrinsically sinful! That would be in remarkably poor form, and lead to bad conversations! Jesus and Paul appear to mean the same thing about harboring anger over time, and doing our utmost to defuse it in another person.
When we do feel angry, what should we do? “Be angry, but do not sin,” says the apostle Paul (Ephesians 4:26a). Paul draws a contrast between feeling anger and doing something inappropriate with it. I thought Paul’s distinction was practical, important, and mostly commonsense. Two clinical psychologists and one nurse -- Matthew McKay, Peter D. Rogers, and Judith McKay -- present a balanced view of anger in their book, When Anger Hurts: Quieting the Storm Within. They summarize research on the physiological effects of anger on the body and our perceptions. They point out, for example, that anger produces testosterone and cortisol in our bodies, which are the most common causes of coronary artery disease. Cortisol also depresses the immune system so we become more vulnerable to illness and infection. Anger redirects blood away from the liver, which makes the liver worse at clearing cholesterol from our arteries. Anger also causes hypertension which causes heart problems. The saying is true: Staying embittered over a long time is like drinking poison and hoping someone else dies.
We may feel angry when we are blocked from a goal – whether that goal is accomplishing something or being treated with respect. Our anger is usually a sign to us that we need to reflect on something that happened. And anger can be a motivating force – for a good workout, for example.
At the same time, we have good reason to be cautious about anger, if not from personal experience then from Scripture itself. What else shaped my understanding of anger and how to express it? My earliest childhood memories of anger came in the form of my dad yelling, especially when he got drunk. I developed an aversion to anger and a judgment of it. In my experience, anger expressed the breaking of relationship. Anger was unsettling and destabilizing. I feared that anger inherently made others — or myself — out of control. What if you are the type of person who feels uncomfortable when other people get angry? What if you are afraid of anger because of earlier trauma?
Immediately after saying, “Be angry, but do not sin,” Paul cautions us, “and do not let the sun go down on your anger” (Ephesians 4:26b). Paul also suggests that prolonged anger is a magnet for demonic activity: “and do not give the devil an opportunity/foothold” (Ephesians 4:27). Harbored anger makes a relationship, and maybe an individual, vulnerable to something unclean and unwanted.
As many psychologists tell us, anger is meant to transition to sadness, a posture more open to cooperation and change, and what the Scriptures call lament. In Ephesians, Paul is quoting, and perhaps interpreting, Psalm 4:4, the first of many Psalms that help us process our anger in God’s presence and with His help. For example, Psalms 7, 137, 139 do so explicitly, and many others do implicitly. But there’s a lot of gray area between feeling angry and doing something inappropriate. For example, is raising one’s voice inherently sinful? Is publicly venting? Is writing an email in ALL CAPS?
When we do not allow ourselves to transition from anger to sadness or some other constructive emotion, we might find our judgment compromised. In the book-turned-television-series The Queen’s Gambit, Harry Beltic tells his friend, the rising chess prodigy Elizabeth Harmon, “Anger is a potent spice. A pinch wakes you up, too much dulls your senses.” Harry had watched Elizabeth make mistakes in chess while she was frustrated, because she hated losing so much. She didn’t truly value learning, only winning. Similarly, I noticed that some people – including myself – got angry and then moved on emotionally, without feeling sadness, and without reflecting more. I wanted to say, “I’m fine; everything is fine.” It was as if releasing some anger was itself the goal. But what are the root causes of anger?
Questions for Reflection
Does anger make you anxious? Why or why not?
If you are a pastor, or a leader in a Christian church/ministry, is it possible for you to try to biblically counsel other people in their anger without much self-reflection on your own experience of anger?
If you are a pastor, or a leader in a Christian church/ministry, how have you engaged people who are angry? How have you seen other Christian leaders engage with people who are angry?
The Key Question: Human Anger and Divine Anger?
Because of my own limited experiences with anger, my earliest experiences of “black anger” unsettled me. I found it hard to discern differences between people who expressed their anger in different ways. For example, on the one hand, I knew some who vocally but peacefully protested the police beating of a black man named Rodney King in Los Angeles, 1991, and the acquittal of those white police officers in 1992. On the other hand, I carefully followed the violent protestors through radio and TV news with a sense of shock. Looking back, I can discern different ways people felt anger and expressed it. But in the moment, as a young adult, and also as a relatively young Christian who had just recently started following Jesus, I felt uncomfortable with the whole spectrum of anger.
Perhaps instinctively, I looked for passages of Scripture about Jesus being “our peace” (Ephesians 2:14 – 16) or the “Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6). I looked for passages about “reconciliation” (Matthew 5:23 – 26) without necessarily understanding why the conflict was there to start with. I wanted everyone and everything to calm down. I noticed that some Christians were also quick to go to Scriptures like those, suggesting that people who felt angry were in the wrong. I noticed that white evangelicals tended to hold up black Christians who presented themselves with less anger. But I had yet to understand quite a few things and face some of my own deep fears. Additionally, I had yet to consider how emotions are a way of knowing God and reflecting God.
During the events of 2020, I went a few steps beyond that, though. As I wrote, “The anger, anguish, and pain in our church family is a sharing in the anger, anguish, and pain Jesus showed… We invite one another, and others who don’t know Jesus, to share in the emotions Jesus had and has, because Jesus’ emotional life heals ours.” Should we encourage people to connect with God’s anger, or experience it in some way? Might our anger somehow reflect divine anger, and even participate in it? Can our anger derive from God’s anger? Is anger a way of knowing God? That is the key question I am asking here.
Practically speaking, this question comes up all the time. If one spouse physically, verbally, or financially abuses another, does God get angry? If the abused spouse gets angry, or if other family and friends do, can we consider that to be a reflection of God’s anger? If a minister betrays the trust of the congregation, does God get angry? And can the members of the congregation become angry? If white American Christians largely refuse to acknowledge the injustices suffered by the victims of white supremacy, is anger towards injustice part of God’s own anger?
It’s true that our emotions often contain other motivations and nuances that Jesus would want to reshape or refine. But it’s also true that our emotions are very real starting points for recognizing a connection between us and God. The story of the prophet Hosea is predicated on humans sharing with God the capacity to feel – at a minimum – betrayed, grieved, and the pain of forgiving and trusting again (Hosea 1:1 – 3:5). God invited the Israelites to feel what He “felt.” Jesus often used our emotions as starting points to open up a window of connection to how he himself feels, or how God the Father feels divinely. Jesus said, “Who among you” would not rejoice and call others together with you to rejoice that lost things are found (Luke 15:1 – 32)? Or, “How much more will your Heavenly Father give” eagerly when you want to be hospitable for the honor/shame of the community, because God cares much more than just honor (Luke 11:1 – 13)? Paul and the Philippians shared an understanding that Jesus was an affectionate person, because Paul viewed his affection for the Philippians as a partnership in Jesus’ own affection for the Philippians: “For God is my witness, how I long for you with all the affection of Christ Jesus” (Philippians 1:8). And so on.
So the question needs examination. What about anger? Can human anger be a reflection of divine anger, an image of it, or even a participation in it? That journey will ultimately lead us into atonement theology, but we might linger on one story of Jesus before that. I’ll compare my interpretation to John Piper’s interpretation of that story.
Questions for Reflection
How does your own relationship to anger affect your perception of anger in God?
Do you believe God gets angry when people do wrong? Why or why not?
What other factors or considerations – theological, cultural, or personal – affect your perception of anger in God?