Transforming Anger, Giving Anger to God

Transforming Anger, Giving Anger to God

“[Destructive] anger crucifies Christ. Destructive anger is our sickness. Our medicine is God’s taking our anger. If we do not give it to God, we are not healed of it. We are in bondage to our anger and are not free until our resentment is buried in God. Yes, as shocking as it sounds, we worship God by expressing our honest anger at God.”—C. FitzSimons Allison, Guilt, Anger, and God (Seabury, 1972).

Anger is one of our highest-energy sources. For generations, women were taught they could not express it. They kept it in, and this repression sometimes did terrible things to their bodies and souls, as well as to anyone who came into contact with them. Men were similarly harmed when they were unable to cry, leaving their grief unexpressed.

The key, of course, is channeling this energy into constructive use, just as plants transform energy from sunlight, along with carbon dioxide, our waste product, and water, into sugar for plant food. Through this process, they release oxygen, the essential element for our survival. 

The plant world is our role model. We are to photosynthesize our anger, our “carbon dioxide,” which, if retained in our bodies, can be deadly.

It is amazing how simply going outside and being near plants as our mentors is one of the best ways to initiate transformation. Waiting is part of the process. When we are first responders to a disaster or other cataclysmic event, the energy scatters through the atmosphere, bumping into the closest survivors—often those we love most. Very few know how to be well-trained first responders to anger. 

Other transformative processes for anger include walking, music, and writing. I have had so many angry moments that have been transformed by my harp strings.

Daily, sometimes hourly or even more often, prayer can be a life-altering spiritual practice. We can offer our anger to God for transformation by using a constant prayer mantra, such as the Jesus Prayer. In the past, when I was seeking a surgical remedy, this prayer was often my personal offering to God.

Thich Nhat Hanh suggests meditations that can transform anger. Simply pausing before acting on anger can be a game changer, preventing us from saying or doing things we will regret. Breathing exercises can be an immediate way to quiet anger until it is manageable.

We begin to see signs of healing from the damage anger can inflict on our souls when we express compassion for others, often those who were injured alongside us. We also change by being part of a community where we can safely share our difficulties and learn from role models who have undergone transformation.

We rise out of bed and are called to action that will lead to greater compassion. In my experience, one such icon was the Women’s March on January 21, 2017, after the Inauguration. 

The true test of the transformation comes when we begin to feel even the slightest compassion for those who injured us and others, the ones who provoked the anger. We acknowledge that this happened because they also suffered and never knew the transformative process whose byproduct is lifesaving love. 

Transformation of anger is also known as Resurrection.

Joanna https://www.joannaseibert.com.

Faith and Prayers of Women in Community

Faith and Prayers of Women in Community

“I am grateful to God, whom I worship … as my ancestors did, when I remember you constantly in my prayers. … Recalling your tears … I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that first lived in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice and now, I am sure, lives in you.” —2 Timothy 1:3-6.

Is it true that our faith can be transferred from one person to another, or from one generation to another? There are times when I feel that the faith of my mother and my grandmothers was holding me up in difficult times.

 However, we all have our own unique faith journeys. It is a connection to the God of our understanding, the aspect of God that we may feel we alone have experienced. I do believe that we often find the God, the Christ, within ourselves by first seeing the Christ in another. Then that love of Christ is reflected back, enabling us to see the Christ in ourselves. Some people do not call it Christ. They call it divine or unconditional love.

Our community influences us so much. If we want to experience this love, Recovery groups tell us to “stick with the winners.” People in discernment of gifts would tell us to be around those we most admire, because they carry a part of us we have not yet recognized. C. S. Lewis would tell us to “act as if.” We will know how to “act as if” only if we are around others who have what we are seeking. 

My experience is that we often find God in our community. Others around me show me the love of God. They share their faith. Of course, we always have the option of whether or not to receive it.

Today I share a community of women who are united in prayer and service, seeking a stronger faith through fellowship with one another. This is part of the Grace Chapter of Daughters of the King at St. Mark’s. I learn about love from each of them every day and am filled with gratitude for their continued presence. These are six women who recently took a vow of service and prayer as they joined this group. We will now learn more from them.

Joanna  joannaseibert.com

Waiting

Waiting

waiting for sunrise

“We must let go of the life we have planned so as to accept the one that is waiting for us.” —Joseph Campbell.

I remember a special day of waiting. We awake early to watch the sun rise one more time from behind the Gulf of Mexico. Amazing. There is one other seeker on the beach, sitting at the water’s edge, facing east, waiting as well. For a few minutes, we are connected, the “two or three that are gathered together.” 

All creation is still except for the loud roar of the ocean waves, which seem to say, “We are too busy and will not stop even if this star does not appear on stage today.” It doesn’t take long for the bright orange slowly to peek out from under the sea’s dark, heavy morning blanket. It is spectacular, with yellow, pink, and red soon splattered across our view. It is too much to take in. 

I look for other mentors for the day to accompany us in our waiting. I need not go far. The Monarch butterflies, with their sunlight-orange, black, and white wings, are arriving. They wake from their night's rest and warm in the new sunlight as they wait for the perfect air current to carry them on their long flight over the Gulf to a valley in Mexico. Are they the same ones who emerged from their chrysalises on the milkweed plants on our deck in Little Rock? Probably not, but they may be related. I hope to remember their patience, resilience, and persistence next spring.

Later, in the early morning, we sit and wait in church for the early Sunday service to begin. The eight o’clockers are mostly introverts, quietly finding places near the back of the church. A few brave ones go up to the first row of pews. We later learn they are reading the Lessons in the service. There is no music at eight. The altar party’s procession is silent. They are like the sun, trying not to make a spectacle. But their silence and sacredness are just as powerful, announcing a new day with one more message of love for new eyes to see and new ears to hear. 

Waiting is indeed an art, a sacred spiritual work. Like almost everything else, it takes practice to appreciate, but it always promises manna and a favorable wind just for this day, until we are ready to wait again.

Joanna joannaseibert.com