Addicted to Anger

I've had something on my chest for the past several months, but I've never quite found the words or the right time to say it. Today, however, I have no choice. The main reason I'm about to say this is the tragedy in Ferguson, Missouri; the relevance (and ugliness) of the situation is forcing the words out of me. A more selfish reason is that if I don't put this idea down on paper right here, right now, it will most likely spoil the taste of my turkey on Thursday. So here goes:

Anger is a dangerous drug.

In small, well-managed doses, it can do a lot of good. Those little pulses of indignation pricking your fingers as you type an angry blog post, like the snap of a lighter, can start fires of change--shedding light on problems and moving others to help fix them. But if left unchecked, this anger burns away everything in its path: progress, relationships, the ability to think and make rational judgements. It can drive otherwise sane, intelligent people mad. You can ride anger into battle, but if you don't hold on, it'll throw you off and leave you for dead.

This is old news, of course. Probably half the human race has already made this point in one way or another, in words more eloquent than anything I could express. But I say it again because in the past couple of years, I've seen this truth manifest itself in so many different layers of life that it's more vivid than ever. A group of political protesters outside my workplace waves angry signs, and the group across the street waves angry signs right back, all painted with various insults that only make the two groups more defensive. Two people try to talk on the phone, but neither can raise a concern without the other screaming at them. Instead of weighing different opinions, checking facts, and presenting an intelligent argument, a journalist winds up spewing biased, profanity-laden rage beneath a clickbait headline. Entire towns, even nations, are ravaged because some people are angry at other people.

Nothing is solved in any of those situations, because unlike tempered, controlled anger, which can streamline pathways to justice with its call to action, uncontrolled anger paralyzes. It shuts down discussions and keeps people stagnant in a pit of chaos and hate. And on top of all that, if anger is a fire, reading social media posts can feel like drinking lighter fluid (fittingly, I've heard drinking lighter fluid can make you go blind). In a world that seems designed to keep us hooked on a rage high, I'm convinced that anger management is one of the greatest skills that can ever be taught.

It won't solve the world's rage problem, but I'd still like to close this post with a proposal that we try to make this day remembered for something other than violence. If you have a quarrel with someone, try to examine and resolve it peacefully. If you've been meaning to do something kind for someone lately, do it now. Do something to broaden your perspective beyond your own tiny world. And, above all--when it comes to simple eloquence, you gotta hand it to Jesus--love your neighbor as yourself.