Anger

As improbable as it may seem, during times of deep sorrow and of grief, there is a feeling, an emotion, that may subtley and insidiously worm its way into our thinking--into our heart.
                                                                  Anger.
We are especially vulnerable when the catalyst for our mourning is a choice made by someone that we deeply love, a choice that not only broke our heart, but the hearts of those we love just as deeply as the one who made the choice. Our tendency is to try to deny that fact that we are angry, to pretend that it's not really in our thoughts, lurking in our grief.
Yes, sometimes it is rooted in self-pity. "How could they hurt me so?" Sometimes it is rooted in a genuine sorrow over the brokenness evident in the lives of those around us. "Look how their decision has crushed the hearts of those I love--of those who loved them." Sometimes it crops up in the immediate; sometimes it crops up in the near future; sometimes it crops up in some distant future. We are surprised--ambushed--by its sudden presence in our hearts. We need to be alert to its danger; we cannot let it fester and destroy our ability to love others; we cannot let it change our focus from others to ourselves.
The enemy--the Destroyer--delights in planting the seed of bitterness in the soil of anger. And the tree of bitterness when it is fully grown and established in our heart is spiritually deadly. Its fruit ripens into a deep self-pity, a tearful self-pity. It ripens into a cold-hearted, loveless spirit that cannot love others, that prevents us from being the comforter God intends for us to be--calls us to be. It even ripens into an anger directed at God and suppresses even the desire to repent. We can no longer discern His heart of love for others in times of sorrow. The only heart that matters becomes our own heart.
Such angry thoughts must be eradicated--as many times as necessary--every time they creep into our thinking. And how do we do that? Through a prayerful, humble, expressed forgiveness rooted in the confession that we too have in our past made choices that hurt those that we love and that grieved the heart of the Spirit who lives within us. We have betrayed the love of others. We have needed forgiveness. Thus, it must be a prayer of gratitude, of celebration as well; for every time that we have done that--every time we have hurt others--He has fully forgiven us. Gladly. When we have grieved the hearts of others, of those who love us, of the One who abides within us, we have been forgiven. We are forgiven. (Oh, if we could just sense in some small way the groaning of the brokenhearted Spirit within us when we inflicted pain on others--on Him--by our hurtful choices!) And without such forgiveness we cannot celebrate our love for that person who is the cause of our pain and for those we--and they--loved. We cannot celebrate the mutual love we have for one another.
Be alert. Be vigilant. If the Advesary is seeking to destroy your ability to love, to plant the seed of anger in your heart, plead for the power of the Spirit to enable you to humbly, lovingly, forgive--and to rejoice in His continual, unconditional forgiveness of you. There is no heart more useless to the cause of Christ than a soul wallowing in a lack of forgiveness, festering in an angry bitterness.
Embrace a sorrow rooted in love. Emrace a sorrow rooted in a forgiving spirit, Embrace a sorrow that produces in you a focus on His heart and the sorrowful hearts of those that He has placed into your life to be your comfort as you in His power comfort them. "Let the beauty of Jesus--the beauty of the God of forgiveness, the beauty of the God of All Comfort be seen in our lives. "Do not let the sun go down on your anger."