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Midweek Lenten 5 – April 9^th, 2025 Trinity Ev. Lutheran Church, Block, Kansas Rev. Joshua Woelmer Text: Luke 23:32–43 “Anger and Kindness” Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father, and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. Jesus says some things in his Sermon on the Mount that are counter-intuitive. There are two commandments that deal with murder and adultery, and he applies them to internal feelings and thoughts. We might want to see these as two different things. We might think that our desires are just desires, and they only become sin when we act on them. But Jesus talks about these in the same breath. He associates anger with murder, and lust with adultery. Perhaps we cringe when we hear these words: “You have heard that it was said to those of old, ‘You shall not murder; and whoever murders will be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment; whoever insults his brother will be liable to the council; and whoever says, ‘You fool!’ will be liable to the hell of fire” (Matt 5:21–22). Or when Jesus says regarding lust, “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart” (Matt 5:27–28). Can mere thoughts really be sins? Can they damn us to hell? We might argue that we cannot control these thoughts. Who hasn’t gotten angry? Who doesn’t still get angry from time to time? It just flares up on its own! This is an emotion that seems out of our control. Surely we wouldn’t be punished for things that are out of our control, right? And yet, Jesus teaches: “whoever is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment.” Like all the other vices, which often occur only in the depths of our heart, anger places Christians in danger of the very fires of hell. The confusing thing about anger, however, is that anger is different from all other vices in this respect: the Bible seems to indicate not every instance of anger is necessarily sinful. After all, Paul writes to the church in Ephesus, “In your anger, do not sin.” (Eph 4:26). Even Jesus was at times full of anger. Remember when he began Holy Week with a fit of rage, ransacking the Temple and turning over the tables of the money changers? And, the truth is, sometimes anger is the fuel we need to do good things in the name of justice. Martin Luther once wrote that he had no better remedy than anger. In fact, he said, in order to preach, write, and even pray well, he had to be angry. It got his blood flowing, he felt, and his mind was made keen, and he was able to carry out his tasks with even more zeal and tenacity (WA TR 2:455). It is true, then, that there is such a thing as a righteous manifestation of anger. For instance, when we see some injustice perpetrated against another, some harm done to them, we are rightly angered by such things. We rightly desire justice. Merely feeling this way is seemingly no sin. But what God knows, is that anger can be a “foothold” for the devil (Eph. 4:27). What is at first an innocent emotion can spill over into a wrath that desires vengeance and harm on another. Almost always for us, our anger leads to sin. As the brother of our Lord wrote to the church “anger does not produce the righteousness of God” (James 1:20). This is why we as Christians are called to be “slow to anger” (James 1:19), just like our God is “slow to anger” (Exod 34:6). Thomas Aquinas knew that anger was the desire for justice, but that desire for justice can be perverted into revenge—a desire to set things right by one’s own doing (STh, II-II, 158.2). He said that while anger was no sin, it so easily becomes disordered. It’s not wrong to be angry, he taught, but we get angry too easily, we get angrier than we should, and we stay angry for way too long (STh, II-II, 158.3). Aristotle noted that anyone can be angry. That’s easy to do. But to be angry at the right person, to the right degree, for the right amount of time, in the right way, and for the right purpose, that is hardly easy. And to those who justify their own anger as “righteous anger”—while righteous anger can exist, it is probably also very rare. Jeff Gibbs calls righteous anger a “theoretical possibility” for sinful human beings, but notices how the New Testament most often simply equates anger with sin. And to those who point to Jesus as their example, he reminds us that “Jesus Christ was perfect, and we are not” (“The Myth of Righteous Anger”). Now, another excuse that we give for anger is that maybe we can stew in it if we don’t let it out to hurt anyone. But let’s not forget what we’ve learned. All vices are simply idolatry by another name. Anger is not just an emotion you feel, but it is a dissatisfaction with God. It is impatience with His own system of justice. It says: “these people deserve punishment for what they’ve done, and I don’t see it happening fast enough, so I will punish them by being angry with them.” Anger displaces God as Judge and sets ourselves up as judge and jury, pronouncing a guilty verdict and sentencing them to whatever we feel exacts the right amount of revenge. Anger forgets what God said, “Leave room for the wrath of God, for … Vengeance is mine, I will repay … to the contrary, if your enemy is hungry feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink” (Rom 12:19–20). We could, of course, go on to explore this dangerous and disastrous vice, and think of all the pain and suffering anger has invited in the history of our world, and in the story of our own lives. But you all know already the times you boiled over and blew up, and you know the hurt it caused others, and you know the guilt it made you feel. Anger feels good in the moment, but then that moment is gone and we have to deal with the aftermath, for our neighbors, and for ourselves. But there is at least one more thing we need to mention when thinking of anger, and that is this: anger as an emotion blinds us. It blinds us to the reality that there is a different way to see the situation, blinds us to the reality that there is any good left in the person or people we are so angry at, blinds us to the possibility of reconciliation and destroys our ability to love and pray for even our enemies. But consider, by contrast, the example of our Lord Jesus Christ. If ever anyone suffered injustice, it was Him—condemned as a common criminal to die for a crime He did not commit. If anyone ever had a right to be righteously angry and justified for it, it would have been Jesus on the road to Calvary. If anyone would have been permitted to act in in wrath it would have been Jesus hanging on a Roman cross. Betrayed by one of His companions, abandoned by His closest friends, sabotaged by the religious leaders, undermined by a governor who turns a blind eye to justice and commutes the sentence of a guilty man for the sake of condemning an innocent man to death. The real murderer is released and the holy one is murdered. Talk about injustice! And yet—and yet we hear perhaps the most remarkable words that have ever been uttered coming from Jesus’ lips on the cross. As He hangs, bleeding, dying for the sins of the world, as He looks down below upon His torturers rolling dice—gambling for His belongings, He manages to utter, “*Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). “Father, forgive them.” If Jesus is angry, he does not show it in this moment. It does not blind Him, it does not consume Him, it does not cause Him to lash out against His enemies. No. He prays for them. He chooses to forgive them. And quite simply, that is what He calls us to do for our enemies as well. Forgiveness is the antidote to our anger. This is, after all, what we pray for in the Lord’s Prayer: “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Jesus has forgiven all of our sins on the cross, and we ask Him to forgive us and to help us forgive the sins of those who trespass against us. Do you remember the parable Jesus tells about a man who owes his master an extraordinary amount of money—over a lifetime’s worth of wages? (Matt 18:23–35). The man is going to be put in prison until he can pay the debt, but he pleads with his master, please, have mercy. And, amazingly, the master does forgive the man’s debt. But that same man, came up to a man who owed him a very small sum and demanded to be paid back every cent! When the first master found out about this, he was enraged, and he threw his own debtor back into prison. Quite a story. But it’s chilling when we realize the story is also about us and our own willingness to forgive. Jesus concludes that parable by saying, “So I will do to everyone who does not forgive their brother from the heart” (Matt 18:35). Christians have been forgiven an eternal debt by Jesus—every last sin we will ever commit. And so we are called to extend that very same forgiveness to the sins others commit against us each day. Quite simply, forgiveness is the distinguishing hallmark of the Christian faith. Unlike the rest of the world, our main role in this world is to be a people who freely forgive as we’ve been freely forgiven. Refusing to forgive not only hurts those others we hold a grudge against, but even more importantly it harms us. Not forgiving another person is like drinking poison and waiting for the rat to die. Refusing to forgive only escalates the cycle of violence and destruction in our world. We don’t need to prosecute every crime against ourselves or others. We need to let that go of that because we know Jesus will take care of it—if not now, then certainly in eternity. He will avenge injustice, don’t you worry, and He’ll do a far better job than our worst anger ever can. But we, who are called to forgive—not just seven times, but even seventy-seven times if that’s what it takes!—we are the peacemakers of the world, the ones whom Jesus calls “blessed” (Matt. 5:9). Paul teaches us: “love is not easily angered” (1 Cor. 13:5), and bids us “rid ourselves of all things such as: anger, rage, malice, and slander*” (Col 3:8). Your anger will never right any wrong, but your love and forgiveness will always rightly bring God’s love in the midst of wrong. Your forgiveness heals your enemy’s soul, just as Jesus’ forgiveness has already healed your own. So, don’t let the sun go down on your anger this day, but forgive your brothers and sisters from the heart—as God has forgiven you from His heart through Jesus. Now may the peace of God, which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. Amen. Return to Top \| Return to Sermons \| Home \| Email Church Office

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Midweek Lenten 5 – April 9^th, 2025

Trinity Ev. Lutheran Church, Block, Kansas

Rev. Joshua Woelmer

Text: Luke 23:32–43

“Anger and Kindness”

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father, and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Jesus says some things in his Sermon on the Mount that are counter-intuitive. There are two commandments that deal with murder and adultery, and he applies them to internal feelings and thoughts. We might want to see these as two different things. We might think that our desires are just desires, and they only become sin when we act on them. But Jesus talks about these in the same breath. He associates anger with murder, and lust with adultery.

Perhaps we cringe when we hear these words: “You have heard that it was said to those of old, ‘You shall not murder; and whoever murders will be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment; whoever insults his brother will be liable to the council; and whoever says, ‘You fool!’ will be liable to the hell of fire” (Matt 5:21–22). Or when Jesus says regarding lust, “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart” (Matt 5:27–28). Can mere thoughts really be sins? Can they damn us to hell? We might argue that we cannot control these thoughts. Who hasn’t gotten angry? Who doesn’t still get angry from time to time? It just flares up on its own! This is an emotion that seems out of our control. Surely we wouldn’t be punished for things that are out of our control, right? And yet, Jesus teaches: “whoever is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment.” Like all the other vices, which often occur only in the depths of our heart, anger places Christians in danger of the very fires of hell.

The confusing thing about anger, however, is that anger is different from all other vices in this respect: the Bible seems to indicate not every instance of anger is necessarily sinful. After all, Paul writes to the church in Ephesus, “In your anger, do not sin.” (Eph 4:26). Even Jesus was at times full of anger. Remember when he began Holy Week with a fit of rage, ransacking the Temple and turning over the tables of the money changers? And, the truth is, sometimes anger is the fuel we need to do good things in the name of justice.

Martin Luther once wrote that he had no better remedy than anger. In fact, he said, in order to preach, write, and even pray well, he had to be angry. It got his blood flowing, he felt, and his mind was made keen, and he was able to carry out his tasks with even more zeal and tenacity (WA TR 2:455). It is true, then, that there is such a thing as a righteous manifestation of anger. For instance, when we see some injustice perpetrated against another, some harm done to them, we are rightly angered by such things. We rightly desire justice. Merely feeling this way is seemingly no sin.

But what God knows, is that anger can be a “foothold” for the devil (Eph. 4:27). What is at first an innocent emotion can spill over into a wrath that desires vengeance and harm on another. Almost always for us, our anger leads to sin. As the brother of our Lord wrote to the church “anger does not produce the righteousness of God” (James 1:20). This is why we as Christians are called to be “slow to anger” (James 1:19), just like our God is “slow to anger” (Exod 34:6).

Thomas Aquinas knew that anger was the desire for justice, but that desire for justice can be perverted into revenge—a desire to set things right by one’s own doing (STh, II-II, 158.2). He said that while anger was no sin, it so easily becomes disordered. It’s not wrong to be angry, he taught, but we get angry too easily, we get angrier than we should, and we stay angry for way too long (STh, II-II, 158.3). Aristotle noted that anyone can be angry. That’s easy to do. But to be angry at the right person, to the right degree, for the right amount of time, in the right way, and for the right purpose, that is hardly easy.

And to those who justify their own anger as “righteous anger”—while righteous anger can exist, it is probably also very rare. Jeff Gibbs calls righteous anger a “theoretical possibility” for sinful human beings, but notices how the New Testament most often simply equates anger with sin. And to those who point to Jesus as their example, he reminds us that “Jesus Christ was perfect, and we are not” (“The Myth of Righteous Anger”).

Now, another excuse that we give for anger is that maybe we can stew in it if we don’t let it out to hurt anyone. But let’s not forget what we’ve learned. All vices are simply idolatry by another name. Anger is not just an emotion you feel, but it is a dissatisfaction with God. It is impatience with His own system of justice. It says: “these people deserve punishment for what they’ve done, and I don’t see it happening fast enough, so I will punish them by being angry with them.” Anger displaces God as Judge and sets ourselves up as judge and jury, pronouncing a guilty verdict and sentencing them to whatever we feel exacts the right amount of revenge. Anger forgets what God said, “Leave room for the wrath of God, for … Vengeance is mine, I will repay … to the contrary, if your enemy is hungry feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink” (Rom 12:19–20).

We could, of course, go on to explore this dangerous and disastrous vice, and think of all the pain and suffering anger has invited in the history of our world, and in the story of our own lives. But you all know already the times you boiled over and blew up, and you know the hurt it caused others, and you know the guilt it made you feel. Anger feels good in the moment, but then that moment is gone and we have to deal with the aftermath, for our neighbors, and for ourselves. But there is at least one more thing we need to mention when thinking of anger, and that is this: anger as an emotion blinds us. It blinds us to the reality that there is a different way to see the situation, blinds us to the reality that there is any good left in the person or people we are so angry at, blinds us to the possibility of reconciliation and destroys our ability to love and pray for even our enemies.

But consider, by contrast, the example of our Lord Jesus Christ. If ever anyone suffered injustice, it was Him—condemned as a common criminal to die for a crime He did not commit. If anyone ever had a right to be righteously angry and justified for it, it would have been Jesus on the road to Calvary. If anyone would have been permitted to act in in wrath it would have been Jesus hanging on a Roman cross. Betrayed by one of His companions, abandoned by His closest friends, sabotaged by the religious leaders, undermined by a governor who turns a blind eye to justice and commutes the sentence of a guilty man for the sake of condemning an innocent man to death. The real murderer is released and the holy one is murdered. Talk about injustice!

And yet—and yet we hear perhaps the most remarkable words that have ever been uttered coming from Jesus’ lips on the cross. As He hangs, bleeding, dying for the sins of the world, as He looks down below upon His torturers rolling dice—gambling for His belongings, He manages to utter, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). “Father, forgive them.” If Jesus is angry, he does not show it in this moment. It does not blind Him, it does not consume Him, it does not cause Him to lash out against His enemies. No. He prays for them. He chooses to forgive them. And quite simply, that is what He calls us to do for our enemies as well. Forgiveness is the antidote to our anger.

This is, after all, what we pray for in the Lord’s Prayer: “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Jesus has forgiven all of our sins on the cross, and we ask Him to forgive us and to help us forgive the sins of those who trespass against us. Do you remember the parable Jesus tells about a man who owes his master an extraordinary amount of money—over a lifetime’s worth of wages? (Matt 18:23–35). The man is going to be put in prison until he can pay the debt, but he pleads with his master, please, have mercy. And, amazingly, the master does forgive the man’s debt. But that same man, came up to a man who owed him a very small sum and demanded to be paid back every cent! When the first master found out about this, he was enraged, and he threw his own debtor back into prison. Quite a story. But it’s chilling when we realize the story is also about us and our own willingness to forgive. Jesus concludes that parable by saying, “So I will do to everyone who does not forgive their brother from the heart” (Matt 18:35).

Christians have been forgiven an eternal debt by Jesus—every last sin we will ever commit. And so we are called to extend that very same forgiveness to the sins others commit against us each day. Quite simply, forgiveness is the distinguishing hallmark of the Christian faith. Unlike the rest of the world, our main role in this world is to be a people who freely forgive as we’ve been freely forgiven. Refusing to forgive not only hurts those others we hold a grudge against, but even more importantly it harms us. Not forgiving another person is like drinking poison and waiting for the rat to die. Refusing to forgive only escalates the cycle of violence and destruction in our world. We don’t need to prosecute every crime against ourselves or others. We need to let that go of that because we know Jesus will take care of it—if not now, then certainly in eternity. He will avenge injustice, don’t you worry, and He’ll do a far better job than our worst anger ever can.

But we, who are called to forgive—not just seven times, but even seventy-seven times if that’s what it takes!—we are the peacemakers of the world, the ones whom Jesus calls “blessed” (Matt. 5:9). Paul teaches us: “love is not easily angered” (1 Cor. 13:5), and bids us “rid ourselves of all things such as: anger, rage, malice, and slander” (Col 3:8). Your anger will never right any wrong, but your love and forgiveness will always rightly bring God’s love in the midst of wrong. Your forgiveness heals your enemy’s soul, just as Jesus’ forgiveness has already healed your own. So, don’t let the sun go down on your anger this day, but forgive your brothers and sisters from the heart—as God has forgiven you from His heart through Jesus.

Now may the peace of God, which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. Amen.

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