I have a lot of anger inside me—
Anger that my bible-quoting father could parade his religion to the world,
Then abuse his family behind closed doors,
Anger that an idyllic life could be shattered by a man
Who didn’t believe in committed, unconditional love or faithfulness,
Anger that my children have been torn from me
…Not once, but three times,
Anger that my character and motherhood have been libeled and
Battered continuously for more than twelve years.
The judgement is a heavy load, whether judging or being judged.
It is an unjust world that labels the victim as the perpetrator.
We all stand guilty.
It is only mercy—God’s mercy—that sustains.
So much anger remains.
The grief of life lost (my life!)
Enrages me by the injustice of it all.
…Yet I am but clay.
The broken shards, the crushing into dust,
The mud on the spinning wheel, the darkness of the hot kiln—
All wring the sorrows of brokenness, confusion, blind unknowing.
The tears flow like many-colored glazes.
I cannot see their effect, but the Potter knows.
He knew me while I was yet unformed in my mother’s womb.
Before a word is on my tongue… He knows.
Only He can take the burden of my anger,
The rage at the injustice of my life,
The grief that twists my soul in knots…
I do not even know how to give,
To let go of this lifetime long emotion.
Anger has been my companion in many forms
From stubborn stillness to screaming rage,
But I am tired.
When I am assassinated again by another criticism, another assumption,
When someone presumes my motives without knowing my heart,
My companion shakes me from weary slumber,
Tries to stir up the embers of fires long quenched and scattered,
And I AM angry for a while…
Till I remember mercy poured out,
Grace bestowed, forgiveness undeserved…
I am the bondslave of One who bought me with Eternal Love.
My right to hold onto anger is gone now;
My right to vindication is forsworn;
Because the Potter can do as He pleases
To form the image of Himself in His vessels.
