By Jeff Stukey, May 2025

    

I felt the fire rise. Hot. Swift.
Outrage at what’s being torn apart—
promises, families, communities.
“This is wrong!” my soul shouted.

​

I wanted to exact vengeance.
To name names. To win. To shame.
To make someone hurt,
if not with fists, at least with words.

​

Despair sat on my chest
like a stone that would not move.
The world too heavy.
The church too quiet.
My prayers too shallow.
Perhaps “loving the least of these”
was only ever just words.

​

But then—a revelation.
Not a solution, but a song.
A cry from the depths
that only God could hear.
I named the pain,
not just theirs, but mine.
Mercifully, God was still there.

​

So I opened my hands,
surrendered the weight,
never mine to carry.

The anger. The outcomes.

The need to win.
I stopped debating.

I started listening.
Not my will, Lord.

Not my way.
Just—lead me.

​

And then—holy fire.
Not rage. But resolve.
Not fury. But clarity.
I saw what broke God’s heart,
and it burned in mine.
Not to destroy, but to redeem.

​

So I moved—one small act.
Then another.
A conversation. A meal.
A prayer. A friendship.
A school. A movement.
Not perfect. Not polished.
But faithful.

​

The arc of righteous anger:
from the fire of wrath
to the flame of love.
From clenched fists to open hands.
From outrage to obedience.

​

This is the arc. I walk in it daily.
Still burning. Still burdened.
Still being made whole.

​

Crafted in collaboration with ChatGPT. 

© Jeffory L. Stukey 2025. All Rights Reserved.