When God Gets Angry: Distinguishing Divine Wrath from Human Reaction

A New Rhythm at Commons

One of the joys lately has been reshaping our evening service at Commons. We’ve reintroduced a time for questions and responses following the sermon—a space to wonder together. It’s been fascinating to hear what surfaces in the room. A couple of weeks ago, someone asked about the holiness of God and how that connects to divine anger and wrath. A big topic, one we've touched on in our teaching. I responded in the moment, but I’ve been sitting with it more since then.

Is God Mad at Me?

One of the deep-rooted notions that many of us carry—sometimes without even realizing it—is the idea that God is mad at us. That somewhere, just beyond our sight, God is seething, disappointed, waiting for us to get it together.

But let’s be clear. I’m not suggesting that God never gets angry. The scriptures are filled with moments of divine anger. Still, I think we often misread those passages, mapping our confusion about human emotions onto the divine. We're not always good at understanding our own anger, so we assume God's must be the same—volatile, reactive, unsafe.

Human Anger vs. Divine Anger

James, in the New Testament, gives us this crucial insight: "Human anger does not produce the righteousness God desires."

That phrase opens up a distinction. What makes divine anger different from ours?

I think it's precision.

Bobby pointed this out in a recent sermon: even in Romans, that famously wrath-heavy letter, Paul is specific. God's anger is not unleashed on people—not indiscriminately, not on you or me or them. It is revealed against "godlessness and wickedness"—the forces, the systems, the choices that harm God's creation.

God's anger, then, is not about punishment. It's about protection. Every time a child of God is injured—and that includes you and me—God is upset. But that anger is born of love.

The Precision of Divine Emotion

This is what sets God's anger apart: it is always, only, ever for our good. God can be furious at the hurt we cause and yet love us perfectly at the same time. That is holiness. That's what it means to be set apart—not because God is detached or unfeeling, but because divine emotion is never misdirected.

This is why James' words matter so much. Our anger, on its own, won't lead us toward the righteousness God wants for us. But that doesn't mean anger is always wrong.

Practicing Precise Anger

There are things we should be angry about. Injustice. Cruelty. A lack of compassion. But the challenge is learning to direct our anger at what is actually broken, so that our love can remain expansive toward the people around us.

Let me give a small, silly example. My three-year-old daughter has a habit of starting apples and then hiding them around the house—half-eaten, scattered in various rooms. One day, we found six! That made me angry. I care about not wasting food, avoiding fruit flies, and helping her learn the value of what we have. But my frustration with the apples is never confused with my love for my daughter.

If I can make that distinction as a parent, then how much more can our Parent in heaven separate our sin from our identity as beloved children?

Embracing a Better God

Yes, we have moved away from the image of an angry, violent God. But not because God doesn't get angry. Rather, because divine anger is always for us—never against us.

That kind of love? That’s the kind of holiness worth holding onto.