I could feel it steadily rising as my daughters bickered endlessly in the car on the way to school.
It simmered dangerously as my oldest responded harshly to her little sister’s innocent comment, making her cry.
And by the time my youngest had thrown an epic tantrum at the dinner table, borne from selfishness, ingratitude, and the wrong color bowl, my anger finally reached boiling point.
Out it spilled then, loud, ugly, and devoid of any useful purpose. My kids were quiet now, yes. Startled and subdued. But at what cost?
In her book “One Thousand Gifts,” Ann Voskamp writes: “Do I really smother my own joy because I believe that anger achieves more than love? That Satan’s way is more powerful, more practical, more fulfilling in my daily life than Jesus’ way?”
Jesus’ way is not one driven by anger. His way is one of grace, forgiveness, and mercy. His way leads to life (John 10:10).
Life for our children. And life for us.
My anger that day was a choice. Flesh over Spirit. A choice that cast a shadow over the day and left bruised little hearts in its wake. A choice that tore down instead of built up, that broke bridges and inflicted wounds.
But walls can be rebuilt, bridges can be repaired, and wounds can be healed—all because of grace.
This same grace is abundant and available for us, too—every time we mess up, every time we get it wrong. Motherhood is hard, friends, but we do have a choice daily: to choose the way of Jesus—and live a life of love.
“And ‘don’t sin by letting anger control you.’ Don’t let the sun go down while you are still angry, for anger gives a foothold to the devil” (Ephesians 4:26-27, NLT).