Friday Read: When Anger Becomes Violence
The year was 66 AD, and Jerusalem was a powder keg. Jewish zealots, convinced that violent rebellion was God's will, prepared to take up arms against Rome. They quoted Psalm 2:9—"You shall break them with a rod of iron"—and believed they were God's instruments of judgment. These weren't te
The year was 66 AD, and Jerusalem was a powder keg. Jewish zealots, convinced that violent rebellion was God's will, prepared to take up arms against Rome. They quoted Psalm 2:9—"You shall break them with a rod of iron"—and believed they were God's instruments of judgment. These weren't terrorists; they were deeply religious men who saw violence as righteousness, revolution as worship. Jesus had walked among similar tensions forty years earlier when crowds wanted to make him king by force (John 6:15). His response was to withdraw. When Peter drew his sword in Gethsemane, Jesus rebuked him: "Put your sword back into its place. For all who take the sword will perish by the sword" (Matthew 26:52).
Fast-forward to today's political climate. Christians march with tiki torches chanting nationalist slogans. Others throw rocks at police during protests, convinced their cause justifies their methods. Social media becomes a weapon to destroy reputations and silence opposition. We've convinced ourselves that righteous anger justifies unrighteous actions, that the urgency of our cause overrides the character of our methods. But James warns us: "The anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God" (James 1:20).
The zealots' rebellion ended in the destruction of Jerusalem and the deaths of over a million Jews. Violence, even when motivated by religious conviction, breeds only more violence. Jesus understood this when he told his followers to "turn the other cheek" (Matthew 5:39)—not because injustice doesn't matter, but because the kingdom of God advances through sacrifice, not force. The early Christians transformed the Roman Empire not by overthrowing it, but by outliving, outloving, and outdying their persecutors.
Paul, who could have claimed every right to violent resistance after being beaten, imprisoned, and stoned, instead wrote: "Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, 'Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord'" (Romans 12:19). This isn't passive resignation—it's active trust that God's justice is both more perfect and more effective than our violence.
When you see injustice—racial discrimination, political corruption, religious persecution—what is your first impulse? To destroy the opposition or to demonstrate a better way? Are you more concerned with winning the culture war or with embodying the character of Christ? True Christian resistance looks like the cross: absorbing evil rather than multiplying it, conquering through apparent defeat.