When Winter Feels Endless: Advent and the Tyranny of Anger, Day 10
Anger thrives in anxious seasons—especially when Christmas draws near and households tighten. Advent does not ignore anger; it teaches us to long for the One who alone frees us from it.
The Economy of Anger in an Anxious Age
Anxiety is a momentary or long-term hopelessness. It happens most clearly when we stop asking for the Advent of Jesus. But it is connected to another insidious vice. Anger thrives in an age of anxiety, especially in seasons when families come closer, when there are thousands of moving pieces, and calendars become sacred. We are particularly vulnerable during this season of Church life.
At times, we can be double-minded about anger. We cannot stand the anger of others but rationalize our own. Some anger is righteous—grieving mothers, persecuted churches, those who cry out for God’s justice. But the question is the unrighteous variety; the daily economy of anger: stubborn children, traffic, burnt food, gossip, the news cycle. You are responsible for your reactions, and our reactions can easily turn to anger if left unchecked.
Anger is our sinful response when something we think “is” turns out “not to be.” He didn’t obey immediately; she didn’t speak to me; the customer service lady transferred me three times. Anger arises because something in us insists that life must obey our commands.
The biblical story constantly engages human anger and divine anger, but there is no coin toss about who is righteous and who is not. God’s anger is righteous and fleeting; his favor lasts forever. God is always righteously angry at sin, but he is infinitely loving toward repentant sinners. Leftist ideology delights in opposing these two, but Scripture will not permit such a split. We only taste divine love when we understand divine anger.
And yet God is spectacularly unfair: he does not deal with us according to our sins. If he did, we would not survive the first complaint about the weather or traffic. The Psalmist wrestles with this, too: “Has God forgotten to be merciful?” But he answers his own question, “All your ways are holy!”
Anger is no respecter of persons. No one is immune. After the Fall, human hearts constantly oppose something, and that opposition often turns into unrighteous anger. It’s for this and many other reasons that Solomon warned us not to associate with hot-tempered people, because you will become like them. We become like those with whom we associate. Angry people collect angry friends.
But anger takes many forms—hidden, silent, explosive. Sometimes, revenge fuels it. Sometimes superiority fuels it—racially, economically, family comparisons, parenting, blame-shifting. Why? Because anger is “responsorial.” We were created to broadcast values. When someone broadcasts something we dislike, anger rises. Ask yourself nightly, “What angered me most today?” The answer reveals what you treasure most.
Anger becomes sinful when we believe our sense of justice is ultimate, when we do not listen, when we will not consider our own frailties, and when we think our reaction will establish righteousness in the world. The Apostle James is precise: the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God.
Human anger often masquerades as moral concern: “I shouted because I care.” “I said those harsh things because I love you.” But most of our anger is simply self-righteous anger, disguised and decorated with religious ribbon.
But what if we remain passive? What if we isolate ourselves? Passivity is no escape. Avoiding conflict often produces deeper conflict. To ignore moral evil is to oppose what is good. Unaddressed anger turns into bitterness. Bitterness is anger stretched through time.
When Our Desires Go Mad
The hard truth is that anger will always be with us, so how do we deal with it in this sin-stricken world? The Apostle Paul contrasts unrighteous anger with virtues like love, faith, service, and attentiveness to others. We sin most in anger when we cannot see anyone else’s world except our own. We choose self-love, self-trust, and self-service.
If the only conversations that matter are those in which we are central, then we will justify endless anger. Our real problem is not justice; it’s proportion. When children disobey, yelling seems right, but asking questions gives context, and context opens a way of mercy. When a friend fails us, revenge seems righteous, but revenge is deception.
Anger persists because our desires are disordered. We become content with a world that is always winter and never Christmas. Advent calls us to prayer with fellow saints, service, and encouragement—God’s antidote to sinful reactions. Virtue is shaped by seeing others as God sees them, not as interruptions to our sovereignty.
Advent teaches us what really matters. What matters in light of the coming of Jesus may not match our preferences. Our reactions follow our hierarchy of loves. When Christ becomes the highest aim, our anger finds refuge in the One who came, lived, died, and rose again to remove the anger of God from us.
We are created to broadcast values, and the world measures us by our fruit. Our fruit should not be words that bruise, but words that heal. The righteous anger of God is satisfied in Christ, so unrighteous anger must die in us.
Learning to Long for Christmas Again
The season reminds us: Christmas has come, is coming, and will come again. We are rescued not by suppressing anger, but by reshaping desire, re-ordering love, and kneeling before the Child who disarms our rage. When we sacrifice our self-significance at the feet of the incarnate Son, anger loses its empire, and Christ reigns instead.
If unrighteous anger rises whenever “things are not as they should be,” then Advent re-teaches what should be—not merely by correcting behavior, but by reshaping vision. And once our vision belongs to Christ, even our daily frustrations find a Savior.