(Un)righteous anger

I got a phone call and it made me angry. It was a follow-up call from a local agency that helps people in trouble in our community. I had phoned them a while back, hoping for some context, some background on a particular couple who was asking our church for material assistance. But they hadn’t had time to respond and a decision had to be made. The people I was talking to were desperate. They couldn’t wait. 

“Yeah, we know all about _______,” they said. “It’s always the crack cocaine with them.” I sighed. “They got some big inheritance from a relative this summer . . . well over a hundred grand. But it just all went into partying . . . up in smoke—literally! We’ve tried to help them in so many ways. . . . Their kids have been taken away from them so many times. . . . But they just keep going back to the same old things.  ”

I heard these words, and I was angry.