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Let’s talk about something we don’t like to admit—anger.
The verse in Ephesians 4:26:
"Be angry, and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger." (ESV)
Paul is actually quoting from Psalm 4:4, which says:
"Be angry, and do not sin; ponder in your own hearts on your beds, and be silent." (ESV)
It’s a reminder that anger itself isn’t automatically sinful—but if we don’t handle it, it can quickly lead us into sin. Of course, use self-control. But I am always skeptical of people who don’t express themselves organically or get angry.
In the grand story of Israel, David’s rise from watching sheep in the fields to wearing the crown is nothing short of legendary. After a rough season hiding out with the Philistines (1 Samuel 27:1–7), he came back home to Judah ready to step into the role God had been preparing him for all along (2 Samuel 2:4). Victories piled up, the people adored him, and blessings flowed like honey. David and the Lord? They were close—heart to heart, step for step (Acts 13:22).
But somewhere along the way, as the palace halls got a little too comfortable and the victories felt a little too easy, that once razor-sharp devotion started to dull. He made choices that didn’t line up with the man after God’s own heart—falling into sin with Bathsheba and arranging Uriah’s death (2 Samuel 11:2–17), puffing up his pride with a national census (2 Samuel 24:1–10), and letting mess brew in his own household without stepping in (2 Samuel 13:21).
Sometimes fear even got the better of him, like when he ran to the Philistines for safety instead of leaning fully on God’s protection (Psalm 56:3–4). Those lapses brought real pain—to him, his family, and his people (2 Samuel 12:10–12). But here’s the thing about David: when he messed up, he didn’t stay there. He came back, broken but honest, pouring out his heart in repentance—like in Psalm 51:10–12, where he prayed, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” And that’s what made his story powerful—God’s grace met him every single time (Psalm 103:8–12).
We all get mad. We all mess up. And we all, at some point, have upset someone we cared about. That’s part of being human. But here’s where things get complicated: some people act like you’re not allowed to be upset with them.
In my past life I came from a community full of folks who operated under this strange, unspoken rule—they could treat you however they wanted, and you better not have a reaction. You weren't allowed to cry, get upset, or even mention the pain. And if you did? You were the problem.
Take one previous member, for example. They wasn’t really around, but they could recall my mistakes like they were their favorite song on repeat. But when I brought up something they did? Suddenly, they had selective amnesia.
“I don’t remember that,” they’d say, genuinely offended that I even dared to remember. How convenient.
But that’s not healthy. That’s not love.
A healthy person knows that anger is inevitable. When you do something wrong let people be angry with you.
It’s natural. People are going to disappoint you and be disappointed in you. And you are going to disappoint people. But being upset isn’t the issue—how you process that anger is what matters. Emotionally mature people give each other space to feel, heal, to cool down, to be human. They understand that sometimes walking away isn’t disrespect—it’s regulation. It’s wisdom.
Now, I’m talking about normal, healthy relationships—where it’s clear the person loves you—but life happens. Mistakes get made. Tempers flare. Arguments get heated.
I’m not talking about people who despise you, sabotage you, and commit vile, vicious acts that would make even Satan blush. Those kinds of relationships? Throw them out with yesterday’s trash.
So here’s the question:
Do you allow people to get mad at you?
Or do you expect grace while refusing to extend it?
If you want real relationships—ones that grow, heal, and last—you’re going to have to make room for anger.
You’re going to have to stop punishing people for having real emotions, especially when you made a mistake.
You’re going to have to stop acting like you’re always the exception.
Because love without honesty is bondage. And peace that requires silence in the midst of hurt is just control wearing a pretty or handsome face.
Let people feel. Let people express.
And remember—being upset doesn’t mean they don’t love you.
It means they’re still trying.
These blog posts are created for entertainment and educational purposes only. While some entries may be written in the first person, they are works of creativity and do not reflect the personal experiences or histories of any specific individual. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The content is not intended to represent factual accounts, but rather to inspire thought, spark conversation, and explore ideas through storytelling and commentary.
