When Rage Lives Quiet

It doesn’t yell.

It waits.

Buried beneath politeness,

behind the verses I quote

but haven’t fully lived.

It simmers,

deep in the places I don’t let anyone touch

not even me.

Wounds I’ve covered with scriptures

instead of surrender.

Pain I’ve stuffed down in the name of "being strong."

They see peace on my face.

But inside, I am pacing.

Shouting.

Breaking.

I carry a war I never asked to fight,

and some days I think I’m losing.

God, where are You in this fire?

Because I don’t want to hate.

But I do.

I don’t want to be bitter.

But I am.

And I don't want this rage to be my legacy

a silent inheritance of survival,

handed down through generations

of unspoken hurt.

So I bring it to You, Lord.

Not dressed up.

Not holy-sounding.

Just real.

Raw.

Ugly, even.

Here is my rage.

Here is my disappointment.

Here is the scream I never let out.

I know You’re not afraid of it.

You didn’t flinch at the cross

You won’t flinch at this.

Trade this weight for Your peace.

This chaos for Your calm.

This fury for forgiveness.

Make me new where I’ve been hardened.

Because I don’t just want relief

I want healing.

And I know it only comes

when I stop hiding the war

and start trusting the Healer.

Psalm 34:18 (NIV)

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”