It Sounds Like God To Me

© Copyright 2007 by Phil Scovell - All Rights Reserved



                                      20

                      Burning Anger Which Kindles Rage


                              By Phil Scovell






          I used to always  say, and was  quite proud of  it, too, that  it
     took a lot to make me mad.  When I did get mad, it was over in seconds
     and I was fine.   Somehow, and for some  reason, I thought this was  a
     good Christian  character trait  to have.   Besides,  I never  got mad
     often.   I felt as if I  had my anger under control,  you see, and the
     fact that I  never stayed mad, well,  that proved that anger  wasn't a
     problem for me.  Boy, was I wrong.
          Most people,  yes, Christians,  too, have  a problem  with anger.
     Oh, we express  it in  different ways  and for  different reason,  but
     regardless,  it is  anger even if  we don't  know how to  identify it.
     Sometimes anger is express by being sad and sometimes by being mad but
     either  way,  it  is  anger.   Manifested  guilt  can  trigger  anger.
     Condemnation, fear, shame, resentment, and just about anything you can
     name allows anger to surface in  various ways.  Just depression itself
     can trigger anger.
          I know what  some of you are  thinking, and that is,  "isn't some
     type of anger a good thing, or  at least, naturally expressed?"  Since
     we are  human, even if  we are  born again Christians,  something that
     someone says  to use can, of course, create  what feels like a natural
     anger.  It is  hard to differentiate what might be  called natural and
     would be abnormal.  So let me explain both in one story.
          A few years  ago, and I have  written about this elsewhere  on my
     website so  you can read about if you are of a mind, my daughter was a
     meth addict.  She basically lived on the streets.  I finally got tired
     of always calling a  half a dozen places, leaving messages  for her to
     call,  and I eventually told her that under no circumstances could she
     keep  her two boys  with her any  longer.   I additionally told  her I
     would legally take  them from her  if she didn't  leave them with  us.
     This  was the result of one morning when one of her boys called, using
     his mom's  cell phone,  and said he  and his  brother were  hungry and
     couldn't find anything to  eat.  I discovered she was  sleeping with a
     bartender at his house.  I finally got the boys to put their mother on
     the phone but  they said she kept  falling back to sleep  and couldn't
     get up.  She  was sleeping off a meth  high.  She eventually  answered
     the phone  but by this time, I  was hot.  I was  mad, angry, you might
     say, due to the unsafe situation of my grandsons.  I made things quite
     clear   to  her  and  she  did  start  leaving  the  boys  with  their
     grandparents.   However,  the anger  I  expressed didn't  go away  but
     deepen.
          One 4TH of  July, she promised her  two boys that she  would come
     home  and share  in the  celebrations and  fireworks afterwards.   She
     never showed.  She never  even returned any of  the many calls we  put
     out for her.   My anger balloon.   I went to  bed angry, never a  good
     idea under any circumstances, besides,  this was normal anger.  Right?
     Regardless, the little boys had been cheated once again.
          Years later, I discovered my anger was still there.  One evening,
     as I prayed about  my anger toward my daughter, the  Lord revealed the
     source.  It was 11  years earlier the first time my daughter ran away.
     The  Enemy  took advantage  of  the  anger  I  had at  that  time  and
     established a strong hold in my life.
          Over the  years, I  still saw  the evidence  of anger than  often
     stood on  the  very edge  of  rage.   This bothered  me  greatly as  a
     Christian.  I began praying  and asking the Lord.   I am referring  to
     anger  that develops into rage to the point you might punch a whole in
     a wall, preferably missing the  stud, throw something against the wall
     or on to the floor, driving your car over 100 miles an hour and taking
     a 45  mile an  hour curve,  kicking a  chair to pieces,  or even  more
     serious acts of violence.  As I prayed, I asked the Lord to take me to
     the first event where I displayed such deep anger and rage in my life.
     I was  positive there  was no such  place in  my life  and what I  was
     experiencing was normal but under Biblical and Christian control.
          Almost instantly, I saw myself in the family car, mom backing out
     of our gravel driveway, when I remembered that I had not locked  up my
     new bicycle.   I told mom and  she stopped the car.   I jumped out and
     ran to the tool  shed where I had been parking my new  bike.  I opened
     the door to  the shed, ran  to my bike,  unlocked the padlock  hanging
     from  the  seat  and attempted  to  bolt  my bike  to  our  table saw.
     Something wasn't  working right and  I was having trouble  getting the
     lock to snap close.  Without  warning, anger flared in my mind, and  I
     stood  up and began  making small animal  like sounds as  I repeatedly
     kicked  the padlock  until, to  my  amazement, it  broke into  several
     pieces.   I hurried out of the tool  shed and back to the car.  Later,
     my mom would buy me a much stronger and better made padlock for my new
     bike my uncle had purchased for me following my dad's death.
          As I looked  at this memory, feeling  the anger rise, my  loss of
     self control, and even the animal sounds I made as I  kicked violently
     at  the malfunctioning  lock, it  didn't  seem all  that harmless  any
     longer.  I  was, to say the  least, a little  amazed at such a  strong
     display of anger  because I had never  once done any such  thing in my
     life until then.   "Lord,  that was  pretty bad," I  admitted, "but  I
     don't see  how this is the  origin of my  anger."  I knew,  of course,
     this display of rage would  have been the perfect time for  a demon to
     step into the picture and speak a lie so I prayed and asked the  Lord,
     if such were the case, the Lord would reveal the presence of the lying
     spirit and what he said  to me at that time.  Nothing  happened in the
     memory and  it all stayed the same.  That  was odd because I was sure,
     as had happened so many other  times, this would be the perfect  point
     for a lying spirit to implant some type of a lie in my thinking.
          I heard and felt nothing.   I focused on the memory, letting  the
     feelings intensify, because I recognized  this display of anger wasn't
     natural,  and asked the Lord, "Where did  this anger come from, Lord?"
     I suddenly  saw  a teenage  neighbor who  lived down  the  street.   I
     scanned many  of the memories  I had of this  16 year old  boy come to
     mind and there were several.
          Dan was funny.  All the kids liked  him and looked up to him.  He
     was the first kid in the neighborhood  to get his own motorscooter and
     he  even gave us  rides around the block.   When he  got his first car
     shortly thereafter, a junker to be sure, he was always working  on it.
     It was a convertible  and Danny bought  spare tires from the  junkyard
     because he burned so much  rubber at every corner, tires  never lasted
     very long.  We  were all 5 and 6 years younger than  Danny but when he
     let us, we followed him everywhere and he never seemed to mind.
          I fondly remember the day he and some friends decided  to convert
     his car into an  on-the-floor 3-speed stick shift.  They  worked on it
     all day.   It was  summer and they were  still working on  it when the
     street lights came on that  night.  Danny got all  of us to help  push
     his car back  from the garage  where they had been  working on it  all
     day.   We  finally got it  pushed into  the street, Danny  started the
     engine and  tried to get the gears to  synchronize.  It wasn't working
     so he yelled for us to keep pushing him down the street as he tried to
     mesh the  gearing.   You never  heard such  horrible grinding in  your
     whole  life as that  old ugly olive  green car slowly  rolled down the
     dark street and under the bright street light.  No, they never  got it
     working that night  but eventually they did and Dan became the hot rod
     king  of the  neighborhood; burning  rubber for  several yards  around
     every corner.   Of course, when your tires  are bald, you do  a lot of
     slipping before you gain any traction.
          "Lord?" I  queried, "What does  Danny have to  do with  the first
     memory event?  I don't get it."
          "Think  more about Danny.  What else  do you remember about him,"
     the Holy Spirit encouraged me in my thoughts as I focused on praying.
          Then I  saw it.  Danny had  a temper.  It took  him awhile to get
     mad but when he did, he became very destructive.
          One day, his brother, Ron, who  was in my grade at school,  and I
     went down to their  basement to play ping  pong.  I think this  was my
     first time playing against my  schoolmate because they had just gotten
     the table installed recently.  Ron took the other end of the table and
     as I picked up the paddle at my end, I noticed my end of the ping pong
     table  was marred  and chipped  and fragments  of wood  were literally
     broken off.  I looked at my paddle and it was marred and chipped, too.
     "What happened down here, Ron?" I asked; puzzled.
          "Oh, that's Danny's end  of the table.  Every time  he misses the
     ball, and  especially when he  loses, he beats  that end of  the table
     with his paddle.  That's why we  always make him play from that end so
     he doesn't completely ruin the table."
          I remember laughing, as did Ron, Danny's younger brother, because
     we always thought  Dan's display of anger,  and fits of rage,  was put
     on, that is,  he really wasn't mad  but just playing like he  was.  We
     were wrong.
          As I walked around through my childhood memories, I remember many
     other  times Dan  showed off  his  anger and  rage.   Still,  I wasn't
     convinced this had anything to do with me and I told the Lord as much.
     Then I remembered.
          Ron and I were playing basketball one day.  He had a hoop hanging
     over the main entrance to the  garage and we played basketball a  lot.
     The Lord showed me  something I had not understood at the time.  I had
     noticed Dan was gone  for awhile.  I  asked Ron about it and  he said,
     "Oh, he  is at a  school."  It  was summer so  I figured Danny  was in
     summer school but  I still didn't understand because  he wasn't coming
     home nights.  Ron explained it was  a special school.  That's probably
     what Ron's parent told him.
          Ron's dad came  out and  we stopped  shooting baskets.   His  dad
     wanted to get something out of the garage so we walked into the garage
     with him.   During the short time  we were in  the single car  garage,
     Ron's dad was digging around in some boxes and moving things around as
     he hunted for whatever  it was he wanted.  In one  box, as we watched,
     he pulled back an  oily grimy rag.  He uncovered  an off white plaster
     form of a  skeleton head with  its empty eye  sockets and toothy  grin
     peaking out at us.  We all laughed.  Ron's dad was a  funny man and we
     all liked him a  lot.  He said, "Well, hello Dan.   I guess your back.
     You  are looking much better  than when you left.   How have you been,
     son?"    Ron  and  I  laughed and  laughed  and  returned  to  playing
     basketball once his dad had returned to the house.
          "Do you understand now?" I heard God's thoughts in mine.
          "Yes, I said.   Danny was on medication, I remember  now, for his
     anger and depression.  I remember  hearing the adults discussing it or
     something," I  said.   "He was  at a  mental health  facility for  his
     depression and rage."
          "That's right," the  Lord confirmed.  This anger  you are looking
     for came from Danny."
          I had  no doubt believing  what I had just  seen and heard  in my
     thoughts through my  memories.   Danny's rage  was no act.   They  had
     hospitalized  him trying  to gain  control of  his  depression.   I no
     longer needed to see a demonic manifestation of a lying spirit because
     I knew they had to have been there.
          Danny  was like a  hero to me.   My sharpest  and most gratifying
     memory of Dan was  the day he  was working on  his motorscooter.   The
     chain kept coming off and he was trying to adjust the tension.  "Wanna
     ride to test this chain out, Scov?" he asked.
          "Sure!" I  said with honest  enthusiasm.  Dan had  never asked me
     before, although  he had given  other kids rides in  the neighborhood.
     He  probably figured  my folks  wouldn't have  allowed it.    I didn't
     bother  saying, "I should go ask my mom first."  Instead, I helped him
     turned the scooter around, climbed on behind his seat, and listened to
     the engine as Dan  fired the machine up.  He slowly  rolled out of the
     driveway, turning right, and headed  down toward my elementary school.
     He drove  several  blocks around  the  neighborhood.   Eventually,  he
     seemed satisfied the chain was working properly so we headed home.
          Driving passed the school, he stopped at a busy street and waited
     till the light changed.   Twisting the throttle hard, he  tried to lay
     rubber as we turned out on to the four lane busy street.  The  scooter
     gathered speed and  Dan pushed the low gear  to the limit.   The motor
     wound up to a high pitch and at  the right moment, he slammed the gear
     shift into  second gear.   The chain instantly  fell off and  with the
     chain dragging on  the ground, he  allowed the bike  to coast.   As it
     lost momentum, he pulled  into a parking lot.  We  both jumped off and
     Dan kicked the kickstand down.   He then threaded the chain back  into
     place and we climb  aboard.  He didn't try any more  burns the rest of
     the  way home.  I talked about my  ride with friends for weeks.  I was
     bonded to Dan that  day, in some respects,  and I knew in my  heart, I
     wanted to be just like  him when I grew to be  his age.  There was  my
     lie; I  was like Dan.   After  the Lord  showed me  the connection,  I
     prayed  against  the  unholy  bond  that  had  been  developed  during
     childhood.
          Does this mean I no longer get mad or angry?  Of course not.  The
     anger I expressed  concerning my daughter was  legitimate but allowing
     it to expand gave place to the Enemy to work against me and so he did.
     Any time  I get mad  or angry in  any way, I  begin looking to  see if
     their is  a source.    There are  many areas  of exposure  we face  as
     Christian which anger  is used to throw  up a wall of protection.   It
     masks the true nature of the fear we really feel deep down inside.  As
     I mentioned  before, there is a  natural anger but  few ever recognize
     the difference.  God does.  Do you?