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GIVING YOUR GRUDGES TO BUSH (9:55)

This is one of those "bridge" radio programs, where our studio time happens on one side of an historical moment, and where you'll hear this sermon on the other side. The political divide I'm referring to is this: We're recording on XXXXXX, with lame-duck president Bill Clinton still living at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. But by the time you hear this on Monday, February 5, President Bush will be handling the reins of power already.
Of course, even with the so-called "honeymoon" still in effect, we don't like to think about the hard issues, but already, America's new Commander in Chief has to deal with the ragged regions of the world. Ehud Barak versus Yasir Arafat. The suicide attack on the U.S.S. Cole in Yemen. What will Putin do next in Russia? Can Kostunica manage things in Serbia and keep Milosevic out of the way as he tries to bring his people into a new era of freedom? Back in October, Newsweek had a troubling line for the new president to consider: "America is now Goliath, facing many Davids - enemies who use stealth, speed and suicide to draw blood. What can we do?"
And those of us with American passports, whether we travel to the world's hot spots, or just get in line for the Matterhorn ride at Disneyland, have to wonder this question: Is President Bush up to all this? All of this gets taken to him and dumped on his desk. "Here, Mr. President. Make this go away." Is he tough enough? Can the buck really and truly stop there, or should the American people hold back a few nickels and dimes?
We want to think - in just a moment - about White House screaming matches, but first let's return to our three-week radio series: I'VE GOT TO NURSE THIS GRUDGE BECAUSE IT'S SICK! How many of us have longed to just unleash a venom-laced diatribe of hatred against someone who has hurt us? In our minds, we've practiced and fine-tuned that speech until it glowed with purple passion and power. Oh, it was good. It rhymed like a Jesse Jackson sermon. It cut up our enemy until there weren't any two square inches left of him.
Friend, have you felt that way? Felt like screaming at someone? We all have. Rage and anger and resentment are part of the human condition . . . and we've been studying together for these past two weeks what the Word of God says about anger that lasts beyond sundown.
I mentioned earlier in the series a terrific book by Philip Yancey - of course, all of his are just exceptional. But he's written something called The Bible Jesus Read, and he has an entire chapter on some of the screaming fits you can actually find in the book of Psalms. Almost on every page you can find King David throwing verbal javelins at his enemies - or actually, asking God to do the honors. Here's just a random slice from Psalm 68:

"May God arise, may His enemies be scattered; may His foes flee before Him. As smoke is blown away by the wind, may You blow them away; as wax melts before the fire, may the wicked perish before God."

Back in chapter 58, he gets even more graphic:

"Break the teeth in their mouths, O God." He's speaking of the wicked here. "Tear out, O Lord, the fangs of the lions!" Then down just four verses he adds: "The righteous will be glad when they are avenged, when they bathe their feet in the blood of the wicked."

Well, friend, what's the point of all this violent, teeth-knocking-out Scripture? Yancey actually lifts up King David's mad-as-a-wet-hen prayers here as being the right way to approach the issue of our own unresolved anger. Listen to what he says here in this very interesting book, The Bible Jesus Read:

"If a person wrongs me unjustly," he writes, "I have several options." That's exactly our study in this series. Listen: "I can seek personal revenge, a response condemned by the Bible. I can deny or suppress my feelings of anger and hurt. Or I can take those feelings to God, entrusting God with the task of 'retributive justice.'

Then Yancey adds this:
"The cursing psalms are vivid examples of that last option. 'It is Mine to avenge; I will repay,' says the Lord - prayers like the cursing psalms place vengeance in the proper hands. Significantly, the cursing psalms express their outrage to God, not to the enemy."

That's a marvelous insight, isn't it? Friend, when you're boiling mad inside, when you're burning with resentment . . . sometimes those feelings are not wrong. But where should they go? The Bible tells us that Option One is not appropriate: getting revenge yourself. Proverbs 20:22 says:

"Do not say, 'I'll pay you back for this wrong!' Wait for the Lord, and He will deliver you."

Suppressing and stifling our anger is also wrong; the Bible tells us not to let our grudges continue past sundown. But here Option Three is clearly and plainly endorsed. We can take our frustrations, our pent-up anger, our grudges, march right into the White House of the universe, go straight into the Oval Office, and say to President Bush - actually to the Lord God Almighty, Jehovah: "Here. You want it - You got it." Friend, that's exactly what the Bible tells us to do. Go boldly into the throne room of grace, and give that rotten, anger-causing scenario to God. Because the buck stops there, and so does the belly-aching.
Yancey goes on to observe in amazement that our screams, our howls of rage, are apparently not threatening to God at all, not off-putting. He doesn't mind!

"Instinctively, we want to 'clean up'" - he writes - "our feelings in our prayers, but perhaps we have it all backwards. Perhaps we should strive to take all our worst feelings to God. After all, what would be gossip when addressed to anyone else is petition when addressed to God. What is a vengeful curse when spoken about someone ('Damn those people!') is a plea of helpless dependence when spoken directly to God ('It's up to You to damn those people, since You only are a just Judge.')"

Friend, my instinct would be to apologize for those "D" words, or to blame Philip Yancey and say, "Hey, I'm only passing along his spicy language." But how often have we thought the "D" word about someone? And isn't it precisely the job of God the righteous Judge to decide if a person is to be damned, or lost? Take your angry thoughts on that matter . . . and put them on His desk. He doesn't mind. He doesn't call Security, the Secret Service, and have you thrown out into the Rose Garden.
Yancey follows up with a personal confession:

"I have made it a weekly practice," he writes, "on a long walk on the hill behind my home, to present to God my anger against people who have wronged me. I recount all my reasons for feeling unfairly treated or misunderstood, forcing myself to open up deep feelings to God (does God not know them anyway?)." Then he confesses this: "I can testify that the outpouring itself has a therapeutic effect. Usually I come away feeling as if I have just released a huge burden. The unfairness no longer sticks like a thorn inside me, as it once did; I have expressed it aloud to someone - to God."

It's hard to imagine being there in the Oval Office, and having President Bush listen patiently as we ventilate. And then he calmly hits a buzzer and an aide comes in. "Steve, take care of my friend here," he says. "Whatever he needs." Or he picks up a telephone, calls an important Army leader and directs him to unleash all of the nation's military hardware, its juggernaut of power, to solve my problem. He's not flummoxed by my dilemma; he's not confused or in a quandary. He simply calls upon all his resources, and takes care of my need.
One more point about shouting and screaming in the presence of Almighty God. Going back one president to a guy from Arkansas named Bill, we have two books here in our offices, one by Bob Woodward, the other by George Stephanopoulos, and they both describe the temper of the former president. Stephanopoulos, often on the receiving end, called Clinton's tantrums "purple fits" or "earthquakes." Or sometimes just "the wave." When the president got mad enough, he could go one-on-one with King David for sure. "I want him dead, dead!" he screamed about one incompetent aide. "I want him horse-whipped."
And when we get down on our knees for an "imprecatory prayer session" with God ourselves, we think, "Maybe I shouldn't do that. Maybe I should tone it down, 'watch my language.'" Yancey makes this observation about that:

"As the books of Job, Jeremiah, and Habakkuk clearly show, God has a high threshold of tolerance for what is appropriate to say in a prayer." After all, a "jeremiad" is essentially just that: a screaming tantrum. "God can 'handle,'" Yancey writes, "my unsuppressed rage. I may well find that my vindictive feelings need God's correction - but only by taking those feelings to God will I have that opportunity for correction and healing."

Well, friend, that's where we are. We've got a new President to take our frustrations to - who's had 16 days on the job so far. And then there's God. A Leader with plenty of experience. Especially at listening.