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Walking the Arc of Righteous Anger

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By Jeff Stukey, October 2025

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In April of 2024, my wife Margaret and I began a journey that was prompted by anger — real anger — about what’s happening to immigrants in our country. That anger has been reshaped by God into something redemptive, something that burns cleaner and points toward love.

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I captured that journey in a poem called “The Arc of Righteous Anger: From Outrage to Obedience.” It traces the movement of the soul from fiery outrage to faithful obedience, from clenched fists to open hands, from wrath to love. The poem has become a mirror for what God was doing inside of me — refining anger into holy fire.

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The Fire Rises

When I wrote the line “I felt the fire rise. Hot. Swift.” that was exactly where I was in April 2024. I was angry. Not just concerned — angry, even outraged. It started with a couple of simple conversations — with people I knew, good Christian friends — who spoke about immigrants with a tone of contempt. It wasn’t just disagreement about border policy; it was something deeper, something that seemed to strip people of their God-given dignity. I remember feeling that something sacred was being trampled. The words landed like blows, and my heart burned.

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At first, I told myself it was righteous anger — the kind Jesus must have felt when He overturned the tables in the temple. But if I’m honest, that anger quickly began to twist into something darker. It wasn’t just anger at injustice anymore. It became anger toward people who didn’t seem to care. Somewhere along the way, that anger turned into contempt.

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And here’s the truth I had to face: contempt is an equal-opportunity destroyer. Whether it’s directed at immigrants or at those who disagree with me, contempt always dehumanizes. It blinds us to the image of God in others. And in that realization, I saw something frightening — I was in danger of becoming the very thing I despised.

That’s when I sensed the Lord whisper something simple: “Go.” Don’t argue. Don’t post. Don’t persuade. Just go. And so, Margaret and I went — to El Paso.

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The Micro Arc: El Paso

That trip to the border became a micro arc — a small version of the larger journey from outrage to obedience. I didn’t go with answers. I went with questions. I didn’t go to fix anything; I went to listen.

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At the immigrant shelters we visited in El Paso and across the border in Juárez (Mexico), we met families who had lost everything and yet carried a grace that didn’t make sense. We saw volunteers who served without judgment or pride, people who simply loved others because they were people. Somewhere in that process, I stopped seeing “the issue of immigration” and started seeing faces — human faces, each one reflecting the image of God. I saw the face of Jesus in the very people I thought I was going to help, and in the people who were helping them.

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That trip broke something in me — and healed something at the same time. It didn’t erase the anger; it purified it. It turned the fire of outrage into the flame of compassion. As the poem says:

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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.

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The obedience part wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t a leap of faith — it was simply a step of faith, doing the next right thing. Going to El Paso was the step that reshaped my heart and prepared the way for something much larger.

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The Macro Arc:

From El Paso to Ambassadors of Dignity

When we came home, I had plans to return to the border and volunteer again, maybe organize a small group to go. But I had no intention of starting something new. I told God, “I’m 75 years old. I’m retired. I’m done leading organizations.”

 

But God had other plans...

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It began small — a conversation at church, then another about a culturally vibrant, but under-resourced elementary school here in Wichita called Ortiz Elementary. One door opened, then another. A friendship formed. A meal shared. A reading program launched. Somewhere in that process, I began to realize that the border wasn’t just a thousand miles away in El Paso; it was twenty minutes away at Ortiz Elementary. The same stories, the same struggles, the same image-bearers of God were right here in my own city.

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As things grew, I had several conversations with our pastoral leadership team about how Ridgepoint Church (Wichita, KS) might serve the immigrant community. In the middle of one of those discussions, someone said, “Jeff, what you’re describing sounds like a nonprofit — something that could carry this mission forward.”

 

I wasn’t ready to hear that. I had no interest in starting another organization. In my business career, I had started two successful companies, and I was tired. And old. And done. I didn’t want to apply for a 501(c)(3), build a website, or handle fundraising.

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But something began to change inside of me. Quietly. Gradually. Every time I said no, God invited me to take one small step of yes. One step at a time, Ambassadors of Dignity was born — not as a project or a plan, but as a response, an act of obedience.

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Our mission is simple: building bridges with our immigrant neighbors. It’s been incredible to see what God has done. Church volunteers now read weekly with kids. Friendships have formed across cultural lines. Lives — including ours — have been changed. In the 2024/2025 school year, we raised over $20,000 and gathered more than 60 volunteers for Ortiz Elementary. We helped families with immigration forms, healthcare expenses, groceries, and even a funeral.

 

I didn’t set out to start an organization. I set out to follow the leading of the Holy Spirit, one step at a time. That’s the macro arc — the long, ongoing one — the one that keeps moving me from clenched fists to open hands.

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Still Walking the Arc

But here’s the thing — I’m still walking the arc. Every time I hear a harsh comment or see a family deported from Ortiz Elementary for merely trying to survive, I feel the fire rise again. The outrage still comes. And I have to surrender it again and again:

 

the anger,

the outcomes,

the need to win.

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When I start wanting to win more than I want to love, I’ve traded the narrow path of Jesus for the wide path of the world. Love has many forms — patience, kindness, humility — but winning isn’t one of them. 

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It’s easy to spot contempt in someone else, but it’s much harder to admit when it lives in me. I’ve learned that showing contempt for those who don't think loving our immigrant neighbors is important, is just as destructive as showing contempt for immigrants. Different targets. Same poison. And I don’t want that poison to live in me.

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The Fruit Test

The apostle Paul writes that “the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” That’s the test. If my anger leads me to love people more deeply, to show kindness where others show contempt, and to see the image of God in those I disagree with, then perhaps it’s righteous anger. But if it hardens me, if it makes me quicker to judge and slower to listen, then it’s not from God, no matter how justified it feels.

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God’s way is not to conquer contempt with contempt, but to overcome evil with good. That’s what Jesus did. And that’s what He’s still teaching me to do.

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The Ongoing Journey

So yes, I still feel the fire rise. But I’m learning that the goal isn’t to put it out; it’s to let God transform it into holy passion, channeling it toward redemptive justice and mercy. Anger is not always sin, but it is always revealing — if I’m willing to slow down and listen to the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit.

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This journey follows what I call The Arc of Righteous Anger. It begins with anger and outrage — the conviction that something is deeply wrong. Then comes contempt and vengeance — the urge to make someone pay. After that, despair sets in, a sense of powerlessness that asks, “Why even care?” From there, the arc bends toward lament and surrender, when we cry out to God and finally release what we were never meant to carry. And at the end of that surrender, God transforms anger into holy fire — a passion for restorative justice that reflects His heart. The arc leads us to faithful action, courageous obedience, and restorative love. It is the journey from wrath to love, from outrage to obedience.

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What Animates You?

For me, that calling takes the form of building bridges with immigrants. For you, it might look different. Maybe your heart burns for children in foster care, for the homeless, for those battling addiction, for people in prison, or even for a lonely neighbor across the street. Whoever comes to mind when you think, “Someone should do something,” — that someone might be you.

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The specific group of “the least of these” isn’t what matters most. What matters is that we allow our outrage to lead us to obedience, that we let the fire purify us rather than consume us. The goal of all righteous anger is not to destroy, but to redeem. And when we walk that arc — from wrath to love, from clenched fists to open hands, from outrage to obedience — we reflect the heart of Jesus.

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Join Us in Building Bridges

We believe that real change can happen when outrage turns into obedience — when the fire we feel over injustice becomes the warmth of compassion in action.

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You can volunteer with us to build relationships that honor dignity.

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You can donate financially to support our work in the community. 

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Every hour volunteered and every dollar given becomes part of a larger story — one where bridges replace barriers, love outshines fear, and dignity is restored in the name of Christ.

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Together, we can turn compassion into connection, and connection into community.