Dear God, Let Me Be Angry

Dear God, let me be angry. Let my heart burn with the fury of all the things I’ve kept buried, all the things I’ve swallowed for the sake of peace, for the sake of others. I need to feel this, even if it’s raw, even if it’s messy. Let me scream at the walls, shout into the wind, and let my rage flow like a river. Let me be angry, not for the sake of destruction, but for the sake of expression. Let me feel the depth of my pain and disappointment, for it has been ignored for too long.

I’ve learned to bury my anger, to silence it with reason, to tell myself that anger is unholy, unworthy, something to be ashamed of. Society has taught me that anger is something to control, to suppress. But what if my anger is a part of me, a part of my humanity? What if it is a tool, a signal, a force that I need to reckon with? Let me see it for what it is—an emotion, yes, but not a curse. Let me see it as a fire that can burn through the things that no longer serve me. Let me know that it is okay to feel what I feel, and that in feeling, I am not broken, but whole.

I am angry at the world. I am angry at the injustices I see, the lies I hear, the people who tear others down with their words and actions. I am angry at the systems that oppress, the structures that keep people in chains—chains of poverty, of fear, of isolation. I am angry at the way we ignore the suffering of others, the way we turn away from the pain that lies just beyond our own comfortable lives. How can we be so blind to the suffering of the world? How can we be so numb to the cries of those who have nothing left to give, except their voices, their stories, their pain?

I am angry at myself. I am angry at the times I’ve stood by and said nothing, when I’ve let injustice slide, when I’ve allowed my own fears to silence me. I am angry at the moments I let people walk over me, when I’ve put others' needs ahead of my own to the point of exhaustion. I am angry at the way I’ve let my own dreams fall into the background while tending to everyone else’s. Anger, I realize now, has been the thing I’ve avoided, and in avoiding it, I’ve allowed myself to shrink. I’ve allowed myself to become small in a world that constantly tells me to be bigger, to be better, to do more.

But I am tired of being small. I am tired of being quiet when I should speak up, tired of being passive when I should act. I know that anger, if channeled properly, can be a force for change. It can be a catalyst, a spark that ignites the transformation I need. Dear God, help me channel this anger into something meaningful. Help me turn it into action, not destruction. Help me use it to build, to create, to heal. Let my anger fuel the courage I need to speak out against what is wrong, to stand up when I see something that needs to be confronted.

Let me not fear the anger I feel, but instead embrace it. Let me hold it, understand it, and learn from it. For too long I have tried to suppress it, to deny it, to push it aside as if it doesn’t matter. But it does matter. My anger is my truth. It is the loudest part of me when everything else is silent. It is the part of me that demands to be heard, to be seen, to be validated.

Let me be angry for the people who cannot be angry, for those who are silenced by fear, by oppression, by circumstances beyond their control. Let my anger be their voice. Let it be the force that drives me to stand up for them, to fight for justice, to demand change. Let my anger not be a weapon to harm, but a shield to protect. Let it be the fuel that keeps me fighting when I am tired, when I feel like giving up. Let me not let my anger destroy me, but let it empower me to be a force for good in the world.

Dear God, let me be angry, but let me be wise in my anger. Let me use it with intention, with care, and with compassion. Let it not be a reaction, but a response—thoughtful, deliberate, and grounded. Let my anger be the catalyst for my growth, for my transformation. Let it be a path to healing, for myself and for the world around me. Let it be a reminder that I am not powerless, that I do not have to swallow my pain, that I do not have to be silent when something is wrong.

I ask for the courage to face my anger, to confront it head-on, and to honor it. I ask for the strength to use it wisely, to make a difference, to take action when needed. I ask for the clarity to know when my anger is justified, and when it is a reflection of my own fears and insecurities. I ask for the wisdom to discern the difference.

Dear God, let me be angry. But let me not be consumed by it. Let it be a fire that burns brightly, but does not scorch. Let it be the fuel that propels me forward into a world where I am not afraid to speak my truth, where I am not afraid to stand up for what is right. Let my anger be a source of strength, not weakness. Let it be a source of power, not destruction. And let it bring me closer to the person I am meant to be.

Amen.