I love my anger for one simple reason: It’s effective. When I start barking, kids start moving. Excuses are silenced. Forts are dismantled. Toys disappear into closets like magic. I’m like Mary Poppins, only instead of a spoonful of sugar I use pure, seething indignation. Just a spoonful of fury makes the little ones pipe down!
Then (of course) remorse. 
Shame. 
Regret. 
But…a spotless house. Is it worth it? Sometimes, in my weariest moments, I feel like it is. In the aftermath of an angry, frenzied cleaning, there’s an instant swell of relief. Order has been restored. The sky is no longer falling. Doritos no longer crunching underfoot. Ah, tranquility. 

The only way to wage war with sin is to own it.

But at what price? 
The moment passes. Doritos are re-spilled. Fights recommenced. Forts reconstructed. (Am I the only person who hates forts?) And then I see it – the mimicry of my own greatest flaws in these beautiful little people. Fits of temper just like mine. Selfishness. Impatience. My anger accomplishes my purposes, but turns out James was right: “Human anger does not accomplish God’s righteousness” (James 1:20). 
If you’re reading this article, maybe you can relate. I tried to be intentional with the title – “For Angry Moms Only” – because I wanted to carve out a safe space for us. This is not the place for innately patient moms who make homemade slime (with glitter! on white countertops!) just for fun. 
This article is for any mom who’s ever been ashamed of her own temper, who secretly thinks, “If only others knew how awful I can be.” It’s for the mom who sometimes fears she’s become the worst version of herself.
Are you that mom? Me too.
Last month, Pastor Mike talked about anger in an article he wrote on generational sin, and (sidebar) this is what I love about Christianity: At any moment your whole life can change. You’re not destined to be the same person forever. In the time it takes to read this article, you can learn something that rewrites your story completely! You are not who you are. You are who you are becoming. 
I stole those last two sentences from Pastor Mike. It’s what he talks about in his article, and it’s no exaggeration to say that article changed my life. It offered a solution I hadn’t considered – leaning into my anger. Owning it. Becoming curious about it. For so long I’ve viewed my anger as something to hide, avoid, and fear. It’s been this monster that overpowers me. 
Recently, I watched Zach Snyder’s Justice League, and there’s a scene where a monster appears in the Amazonian world (that’s Wonder Woman’s hometown, in case you need a refresher!) In a terrifying voice, he says, “I have come to enlighten you to the great darkness. I will bathe in your fear.” The Queen of the Amazons almost smiles. “Daughters of Themyscira!” She cries. “Show him your fear!” And all together, swords drawn and muscles glistening, the Amazons shout, “WE HAVE NO FEAR!” Then they charge into battle.
Gosh, don’t you love it?
This is the picture – that monster is my anger, and I’m so afraid of it. Afraid it will wreck my kids and steal my legacy. So I refuse to face it. I rationalize it. Excuse it. But all I’m really doing is feeding it. 
Let me give you an example. The other day in the middle of a stressful morning, one of my kids said something about me – about my anger. It was unfiltered, crushing, and completely true. Of course, my go-to emotion was anger. How dare she. 
I felt like I was facing Zach Snyder’s monster. I was being challenged to look my sin in the eyes, and all I wanted to do was run away. Deny my culpability, fire back a doubly hurtful comment, shield myself with impenetrable defensiveness. I knew that if I did any of those things, this child would back down. I would render her instantly contrite. But would she really feel contrition? Or shame?
Pastor Mike’s article flickered in the back of my mind. You are not who you are. You are who you are becoming. So I said nothing. After school when everyone got out of the car, I asked her to hang back. 
“Is this about this morning?” She asked.
“Yes. Are you too big to sit on my lap?” I asked.
“No,” she said. 
Crammed behind the steering wheel with my daughter in my lap, I took a deep breath and faced the monster. (We have no fear!)
“Everything you said this morning was true, and I don’t blame you one bit for feeling the way that you do. I have a problem with anger. It’s sinful, and I am so deeply sorry. Please forgive me.”
The only way to wage war with sin is to own it. You know why we can say, “We have no fear”? Because in Christ we are already forgiven. I John 4:18 says, “There is no fear in love because perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.” 
There is no punishment coming for us because Jesus bore the punishment Himself. We are loved not only in spite of our failures, but all the more because of them. In his book Gentle and Lowly, Dane Ortland writes, “When we feel as if our thoughts, words, and deeds are diminishing God’s grace toward us, those sins and failures are in fact causing it to surge forward all the more. The sins of those who belong to God open the floodgates of His heart of compassion for us. The dam breaks. It is not our loveliness that wins His love. It is our unloveliness.” 
So here’s my challenge from one angry mom to another – the next time you come face to face with your sin in all its hideous dominion, remember the perfect love of God and tell yourself, “I have no fear.” Then own that sin. Humble yourself under the mighty hand of God and confess it. And if you falter, think of me, sword raised beside you, fighting the very same battle. 
You can do it, sister. We have no fear!