How Hatred Ate Me Alive

Dealing with anger

I could have killed a man.

Had he entered my presence and had a gun been in my hand, I am convinced I would have pulled the trigger.

I’ve heard it said that I shouldn’t murder, and if I do, I will be liable to judgment. (Matthew 5:21) Knowing this, I still would have pulled the trigger, such was the hatred in my heart. And everyone who hates his brother is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life abiding in him. (1 John 3:15)

But Jesus was also living in my heart at the time. Jesus and a murderer, living together inside of me. How can this be?

For years, this fire in my soul consumed me, burning me alive with every malicious thought. Love your enemies. Pray for those who persecute you. How is this possible when someone has offended you so deeply?

I remember hearing of an Amish family whose daughters were killed by a drunk driver. Their response? Immediate and absolute forgiveness. Before my offense, I would have claimed this would be my response as well. It’s a good, Christian response. As believers, we should be quick to forgive. But love and forgiveness can’t just be conjured up out of thin air. They are gifts that come from God through the working of the Holy Spirit.

Today, on this late-winter day, I look out my window and see a multitude of dead plants. When Wisconsin finally got its first frost this past fall, it was the pressure that killed the plants. When water freezes, it expands and becomes less dense. The water inside every plant cell expanded, causing the cell walls to burst and the plants to wilt and die. This is why frozen spinach is all slimy, and fresh spinach is nice and crunchy - it’s the turgor pressure bursting the cell walls.

But I have animal cells, not plant cells.

My cells don’t have cell walls. Instead, they have a flexible cell membrane. If my body were to freeze, my cells would eventually burst, but as long as my heart keeps pumping blood, and I wear enough layers, I should be good; hypothermia shouldn’t set in.

Yet during my hate years, I was about to burst. My heart was bitter and cold, the pressure inside so intense. What did it take to thaw my almost frozen heart? A dump truck load of salt in the form of prayer, scripture, and people.

I prayed a lot. Many of those early prayers were angry. I remember literally yelling at God as I walked, tears streaming down my face. I prayed that God would remove the hatred from my heart. I prayed that He would help me forgive. I prayed that He would help me to love the person I truly wanted removed from this earth. I prayed that one day I would be healed, both spiritually and mentally; that the deep hurt would go away.

I read my Bible a lot. When my daughter was in a motorcycle accident, I dressed her road-rash wounds twice a day, clearing the pharmacy shelves of Bacitracin. Preventing infection on her large swaths of open flesh was key to healing. Scripture was like Bacitracin for my heart. Everything I read was interpreted through the darkness that consumed my world, illuminating the shadows of my soul.

I talked a lot. I was blessed to have many key people in my life who listened. It’s difficult to offer advice to someone who’s in such a dark place, and to be perfectly honest, if they offered much advice, I don’t remember. I do remember a lot of coffee dates and phone calls. I remember an abundance of listening ears. When I felt like I was about to burst, conversation was the osmosis release I needed to sort through the ugliness of my heart. I’m an introvert, so sharing the grotesque images of my hate-filled heart with others was definitely a challenge, but it was a necessary step toward healing.

This past summer, I saw him as he stood before both judge and jury, awaiting his guilty verdict; his earthly judgment of over ten years behind bars. My heart felt only compassion. No longer did I desire his death, but instead, I desired for him to come to know Jesus as Lord and Savior of his life. “Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord,” but I didn’t even desire the Lord’s vengeance; I desired His mercy. At this revelation, I cried tears of gratitude and offered prayers of thanksgiving to God for trading my desperately wicked, hate-filled heart for a heart filled with love.

Thank you, Jesus.

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Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash