There is a slow-motion magic in the garden that we almost always miss because we’re too busy scrolling our phones and checking our Instagrams. It is the miracle of the hard, tiny seed—a speck of potential so small it could get lost in the creases of your palm—deciding to break itself open. Every sprout is a tiny act of rebellion against the status quo of the dirt. It is the silent, stubborn proof that life doesn’t just happen; it insists upon itself.
I could just stare at my plants for hours, contemplating how they grow. But there is an innocuous-looking plant in my garden that is suspiciously deadly. It’s called bindweed.
At first glance, it looks like a delicate version of a morning glory, a long, stringy vine with a darling petunia at the top. They are quite pretty, at first. But they are also invasive. They will wind around and around any plant they come across, binding them up tight, climbing them like a fence, and then choking them out.
Oppressive social systems are the bindweeds of the garden. They may look like pretty tax breaks for some, or shiny freedom from government. But they cause death and suffering when left unchecked.
For a long time, many of us were taught that “Christian anger” was only for personal sin or theological “correctness.” We were taught to be “nice,” which often just meant “quiet.” We politely agree that poor people need help, but when it comes to any level of inconvenience or disagreement with others, we swallow our discomfort because we are polite Christians.
But if we look at the character of God, we see a divine indignation when it comes to social justice issues. Social justice isn’t a modern political trend; it is the restoration of Shalom—the way things are supposed to be. God placed a few hedges in the Old Testament to protect the vulnerable and keep the shalom.
What is Social Justice?
In the Bible, justice is rarely about punishment. The Hebrew word is mishpat, and it is mentioned frequently in the Old Testament. It isn’t just about court procedures or rules and laws; it’s actually about restoration. It’s also about creating systems that protect, rather than exploit, the vulnerable. We see in the Bible that God is very concerned with looking out for the widow, the orphan, the immigrant, and the poor. He wants us to do the same.
Social justice is the realization that the fence doesn’t just keep people out; it actively traps people in. It is the work of identifying where the garden is being hogged by a few while others are left to starve in the compost.
What We Need to Be Angry At
If our anger is “Holy Anger,” it shouldn’t be directed at people (the image-bearers), but at the vines (the systems) that strangle them. Here is a “Weed-Puller’s List” of what deserves our indignation:
We should be angry that in a world of abundance, children go to bed hungry. We should be angry at systems that make it impossible for a person working 40 hours a week to afford a roof over their head. This isn’t a matter of laziness or poor work ethic; in a capitalist system like ours in the US, you cannot just ‘pull yourself up by your bootstraps.’ Poverty is a whole system failure.
It is right to be angry at poverty because it is a thief that steals the dignity and potential God placed in a human soul.
The “Bittersweet” of Racism and Caste
We should be angry at any system—legal, social, or religious—that suggests one “patch of mint” is inherently more valuable than another based on the color of their skin or the zip code of their birth. We need to actively dismantle any systems that promote one race over another, especially whiteness.
It is right to be angry at racism because it is a direct assault on the Imago Dei (the Image of God) in our neighbors.
The “Thorns” of Exclusion
We should be angry when the “Temple” builds higher fences to keep out the “unclean,” the “doubters,” or the “outcasts.” I’ve seen it many times where churches expect people to conform in order to be welcomed to participate. This might involve limiting who can serve or who can receive communion. I’ve seen churches pressure people to get married or to stay in unhealthy marriages. I’ve seen single moms or LGBTQ+ be treated as ‘less than’ because they don’t fit the mold. I’ve visited churches where those with less financial standings were thought to be less spiritually mature or those who hadn’t mastered the unwritten dress code were subject to whispering and stares.
It is right to be angry at exclusion, because Jesus welcomed all of the outcasts and turned his anger towards those who considered themselves the gatekeepers of the temple.
The “Stagnant Water” of Apathy
Perhaps the most dangerous thing is the peace that comes at the expense of someone else’s suffering. We should be angry at our own tendency to prefer a “pretty garden” over a “just world.” This happens every time we don’t speak up in the face of a racist joke, a demeaning boss, or an unfair system. We are stagnant water when we politely nod at our neighbors rather than welcoming them in because they believe differently or have different lifestyles than we do.
We are stagnant water when we vote for policies that don’t right the wrongs or that don’t help the poor, or the immigrant, or the sick.
It is right to be angry at apathy because silence in the face of oppression is, as Desmond Tutu said, choosing the side of the oppressor.
The Theology of the Loppers
We are often told that anger is the opposite of grace. We are taught that a “good” faith is a quiet one—a manicured lawn that never raises its voice. But when we look at Jesus, we don’t see a man who was perpetually nice. We see a man who looked at systems of exclusion and reached for the metaphorical pruning shears.
When Jesus flipped the tables in the Temple, it wasn’t a temper tantrum; it was Holy Anger. He wasn’t angry at the people; he was angry at the system that was like a weed choking out the garden plants. He saw a system that had turned the house of prayer for all nations into a gated community that exploited the poor.
He didn’t pull the people out; he pulled the system down. He is our example of weed pulling anger.
Weed-Pulling Energy
In the social justice world, we often talk about activism, but in Grace in the Weeds, we talk about weed-pulling.
Holy Anger is the adrenaline that helps you grip the root. It is the refusal to accept that the bindweed of oppression—racism, poverty, the exclusion of the marginalized, the deportation of the immigrant—is just natural, a consequence of capitalism.
Hagar was oppressed by a household system that treated her as disposable. But God saw her needs.
The Gerasene man was oppressed by a legion of demons and a town that preferred him in chains. Jesus went to him and helped him.
The woman with the issue of blood was oppressed and excluded for years, but Jesus healed her suffering.
The Woman at the Wellwas oppressed by a social code that tried to shame her into silence. But Jesus met her at the well.
In every case, Jesus’s peace was an act of disruption. He disrupted the systems of shame so that the individuals could live freely and share the gift of love they were given.
The Difference Between “Venting” and “Holy Anger”
It’s easy to be “mad” on the internet. It’s easy to take to Facebook and share a political meme or like a friend’s post, although I find that when I challenge the political or religious status quo, most of my comments are received via private message, so as not to offend others, especially the polite Christians at our churches.
But venting, especially online, is really just about making ourselves feel better. It’s a flash-fire that burns out and leaves only ash. Arguing on Facebook doesn’t usually change anyone’s mind, nor does it change policies that actually hurt or help the people Jesus careda bout.
Holy Anger is different. Holy anger is about making the world better. It’s a slow-burning coal that gives us the heat to stay in the fight for the long haul. Does your anger lead you to throw stones at people, or does it lead you to pick up the loppers and start pulling at the roots of the system?
Why We Fight
If we love the diversity of the flowers in our garden, we have to hate the bindweed that smothers them.
If we claim to follow the God who meets us in the compost, we cannot remain silent when the town decides to turn that compost center into a luxury condo development that displaces the very people we claim to care about.
Holy Anger isn’t about hate; it’s about protection. It’s the protective fire that says, “This vine does not get to have this tree.” It’s the energy that fuels the long, back-breaking work of social justice. It’s what happens when our “personal peace” realizes it can’t truly exist while our neighbor is being strangled.
This week, don’t be afraid of the heat in your chest. That might just be the Holy Spirit handing you a pair of loppers.
The Garden Notes
📚 On the Nightstand
This month, I’m looking to read God of the Oppressed by James H. Cone. Because we all need to think about the Bible from the perspective of the oppressed to get a fuller understanding of what social justice really is, especially in our current political climate that is rife wiht racism.
🌿 From the Shop
If you want to take this week’s reflection deeper into your own life, I designed the Cultivating the Word specifically for this
“Holy Anger isn’t about hate; it’s about protection. It’s the protective fire that says, ‘This vine does not get to have this tree.’” — Grace in the Weeds
The Greenhouse Preview
If Tuesday’s article felt like a deep breath of permission to be angry, Friday’s Greenhouse is where we move from the ‘why’ to the ‘how.’ For my paid subscribers, we’re doing the hard work of Root Mapping—learning to see the systems that are actually strangling our neighbors. Plus, I’m sharing my Non-Polite Script for when people try to shame your fire. Upgrade today to join the lab and get your hands in the dirt.
The Closing Question
What is the 'pretty vine' in your world right now—something that looks like a polite social norm or a standard church policy, but is actually starting to strangle the life out of someone you care about?
Streams of Grace Church just released its second video message. It’s a church without walls, inclusive, open, and welcoming to anyone who is questioning their faith, feels uncomfortable about attending a physical church, or just wants to know more. You are welcome here!
