But there is an unhealthy anger churning within a lot of us right now. It may be grounded in righteous anger — for there is a lot of blame to share in this sad economy — but it is not leading to anything righteous. Instead, it's an acid eating away at the soul, a quiet rage that is morphing for some into depression and for others into the sweet promise of addiction — to food, to porn, to alcohol.
Like most Americans, I've taken a few serious financial hits in the last few months. As a supervisor, I've had to participate in some hits on others. I'm hardly suggesting that I'm on the other side of anger, living in perfect submission and peace to the providence of God. I look to Jesus in Golgotha and honestly wonder how he could just take it. Take it and say nothing about the incompetence. Take it and do nothing about the raw injustice. Just let it go. That's the big miracle to me. Some days, resurrection from the dead seems like child's play compared to that.
But months into the recession, I find myself weary from bitterness. It's like I'm on a wilderness trek carrying a heavy backpack; at the end of another long day, I look inside for something to feed my exhausted soul, and I find that I've been lugging around chunks of broken concrete.
So I keep praying, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do," hoping against hope that a new miracle will take place — that someday soon I'll mean it.
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