Hands Of An Angry God Quotes

Lincoln was raised in the thick of Old School Calvinism. In Kentucky and Indiana, his parents belonged to a fire-breathing sect called Separate Baptism, in which congregants heard - in the tradition of Jonathan Edward's famous sermon "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" - that they were bound for eternal hellfire, and nothing they could do or say or think would change their fate. Preachers did allow that a chosen few were ordained for grace and would be saved, but these fortunate ones had been selected by God before time began. As one Baptist preacher in Lincoln's Kentucky explained it, "Long before the morning stars sang together . . . the Almighty looked down upon the ages yet unborn, as it were, in review before him, and selected one here and another there to enjoy eternal life and left the rest to the blackness of darkness forever." Such Baptist ministers were so intense that it has been said that they "out-Calvined Calvin. ~ Joshua Wolf Shenk

For I am a sinner in the hands of an angry god; Bloody Mary full of vodka, blessed are you among cocktails; pray for me now, that the hour of my death, which I hope is soon. Amen. ~ Sterling Archer

The reality is that we are in the hands of an angry God, who in His abounding mercy and love has given us a way out of what we so rightly deserve; Hell, the Lake of Fire and endless eternities without His presence! ~ Billy Witt

Perhaps we are not really sinners in the hands of an angry God, after all. Perhaps we are all more like seedlings in the hands of a wise gardener. ~ Seth Adam Smith

(however you may have reformed your life in many things, and may have had religious affections, and may keep up a form of religion in your families and closets, and in the house of God, and may be strict in it), you are thus in the hands of an angry God; 'tis nothing but his mere pleasure that keeps you from being this moment swallowed up in everlasting destruction. However ~ Jonathan Edwards

I read of the revivals of the past, great sweeping revivals where thousands of men were swept into the Kingdom of God. I read about Charles G. Finney winning his thousands and his hundreds of thousands of souls to Christ. Then I picked up a book and read the messages of Charles G. Finney and the message of Jonathan Edwards on 'Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God,' and I said, 'No wonder men trembled; no wonder they fell in the altars and cried out in repentance and sobbed their way to the throne of grace!' ~ Leonard Ravenhill

It wasn't the most rational move, but I was hungry. I was angry. I hated being taken advantage of, and I didn't particularly like bald eagles. The blade hit the bird's back and stuck there like superglue. I tried to pull it away, but it wouldn't move. My hands were grafted to the sword grip. "Okay, then," the eagle squawked, "we can play it that way." He took off through the food court at sixty miles an hour, dragging me along behind him. ~ Rick Riordan

Israel worshipped a God who could grow angry, who changed his mind, a God involved in history, who cared so much about one group of people that their apostasies drove him to fits of impatience. The greatest philosophers of Greece spoke of an unchanging divine principle, far removed from our world, without emotion, unaffected by anything beyond itself. Improbably enough, Christian theology came to identify these two as the same God; this may be the single most remarkable thing to have happened in Western intellectual history. ~ William C. Placher

But even as he reached out to cup he face he heard an angry buzzing, and a huge black bee dive-bombed him from out of nowhere. With an oath, Thomas jumped back, swatting ineffectually at the persistent insect. As his left foot came down he turned his ankle and nearly fell.
Alexandria's hand covered her mouth in horror. Aidan, stop it right now!
I cannot imagine what you are accusing me of, Aidan returned innocently from the living room. But I have not done anything. He smiled and moved slowly toward her. Yet.
"Marie!" In a panic, Alexandria called out as loudly as she could.
Aidan laughed as the housekeeper hurried in. Little coward, run while you can.
Though they were half a room apart and Marie was squarely between them, Alexandria felt the brush of his fingers on her skin, her face, her throat. They trailed lower, feather-light, to touch the aching swell of her breast before the sensation was gone.
"What is it, Alexandria?" Marie asked, her hands on her hips, glaring at Aidan.
He held up a placating hand, laughing. "I am innocent. I was a perfect gentleman to her visitor."
"He spilled Thomas's coffee, made him sneeze, smeared whipped cream over him, and chased him with a bee," Alexandria accused.
While Marie struggled to keep a straight face, Alexandria delivered a final outrage. "And he was going to wither my flowers."
"Aidan!" Marie reprimanded sharply, but there was laughter in her eyes. ~ Christine Feehan

Do people call you Ollie?" Lola asked.

Oliver looked at her, completely dumbfounded by the possibility of this nickname. She may as well have asked him if people call him Garth, or Andrew, or Timothy.

"No," he said flatly, and the only thing charming about him was the way his accent seemed to run through every vowel with one syllable. Lola's eyebrow twitched in her single tell - mildly annoyed - and she lifted her flashing LED drink cup to her lips.

Lola wears mostly black, including her glossy dark hair, and has a tiny diamond pierced into her lip, but, even still, she's never been able to pull off the full physical manifestation of the angry Riot Grrrl. With her perfect porcelain skin and the longest eyelashes in the world, she's simply too delicate. But once she decides you're an asshole, it no longer matters to her what you think. She gives good glare.

"The flower suits you," she said, tilting her head to study him. "And you have pretty hands, kind of soft. Maybe we should call you Olive."

He grunted out a dry laugh.

"And a really beautiful mouth," I added. "Gentle. Like a woman's."

"Aw fuck off." He was laughing outright by then. ~ Christina Lauren

Bonaventure's theology is never about trying to placate a distant or angry God, earn forgiveness, or find some abstract theory of justification. He is all cosmic optimism and hope! Once it lost this kind of mysticism, Christianity became preoccupied with fear, unworthiness, and guilt much more than being included in - and delighting in - an all-pervasive plan that is already in place. ~ Richard Rohr

And you probably also know that when you look out of an aeroplane window and see the world shrink like that, you can't help but think about the whole of your life, from the beginning until where you are now, and everyone you've ever known. And you'll know that thinking about those things makes you feel grateful to God for providing them, and angry with Him for not helping you to understand them better, and so you end up in a terrible muddle and needing to talk to a priest. I decided I wouldn't sit in the window seat on the way back. I don't know how these jet-set people who have to fly once or twice a year cope, I really don't. ~ Nick Hornby

The Theory of Relativity makes nobody angry because it doesn't contradict any of our cherished beliefs. Most people don't care an iota whether space and time are absolute or relative. If you think it is possible to bend space and time, well be my guest. ...In contrast, Darwin has deprived us of our souls. If you really understand the Theory of Evolution, you understand that there is no soul. This is a terrifying thought, not only to devote Christians and Muslims, but also to many secular people who don't hold any clear religious dogma, but nevertheless, want to believe that each human possess an eternal, individual essence that remains unchanged throughout life and can survive even death intact. ~ Yuval Noah Harari

Again the king sighed. "That is a different matter."
"Fine," Dragon said promptly. "I shall solve your problem for you." He made to rise.
Rycca did not mask her response. She grabbed hold of his wrist with both her hands and yanked hard. "Sit down," she said emphatically, and then just to soften it, "I pray you,my lord."
After a moment's shock, Alfred laughed. He shook his head ruefully. "You three must know how men envy you? The beauty of your wives is spoken of with awe, yet I am pleased to see they are not lacking in spirit either."
"Mayhap too much spirit," Dragon growled, but he did not look truly angry, merely frustrated.
"Your killing Wolscroft will only cause more trouble," Alfred said. "No, this must be handled within the law."
Slowly, Dragon resumed his seat but he looked in no way pleased about it. Rycca returned her hands to her lap and tried hard to look abashed. He wasn't fooled but he did reach over, take hold of her chair, and haul it up close to his so that he could rest an arm around her shoulders. A rather heavy arm, she thought, reminded of his strength and will.Not that she minded. Above all, she wanted him near her,not off risking his life against her father. ~ Josie Litton

As a journalist, I have seen things that have scarred me. I have interacted with people who have haunted me. I have heard things that have pained me. As a result, I have long struggled with the notion of faith. I have said more times than I can count, "If there is a God, how can he allow this to happen? How can he let so many people suffer?"

Several years ago, I married a man of strong faith. One day he sent an email to me that said this: "On a street corner I saw a cold, shivering girl in a thin dress, with no hope of a decent meal. I got angry and said to God, 'Why did you permit this? Why don't you do something about it?' God replied, 'I certainly did something about it. I made you."

Whenever I start to blame God for what I encounter in the world, I stop and remind myself that maybe it is I who should be doing more. We get so hung up on the notion of success that we can easily forget about being of service to others. I have actually found that giving of oneself is far more fulfilling than gifting oneself. ~ Lisa Ling

His silhouette was blurry through the angry, sheeting rain, but she could see his hands were two fists. Was he angry? Livia walked toward him, leaving her heels behind after two steps. She let the umbrella tumble off her shoulder shortly after that.
The cold rain made her gasp. It poured over all of Kyle's handiwork. Livia kept moving until she stood before him. She closed her eyes against the burning of Kyle's hairspray as it ran down her face.
Livia reached out to touch his arms. She felt her way down to his fists and gently unfurled them with her fingers. She leaned forward on her tiptoes until her cheek touched his jaw. She sighed as his ice-cold face met her still-warm one.
Livia's hands followed his arms back up to his chest. She frowned at the bandage on his forearm. When she found his chest, she used it as an anchor as she walked carefully around him. She settled her face on his broad back and hugged him.
She felt and heard him breathe. "Livia." But he did not move.
She rubbed her face on the back of his wet black T-shirt to wipe her eyes. When she could see clearly again, she peeked over his shoulder and saw the red heels waiting patiently. The rain had filled them like little ponds. The umbrella lay on its side, catching water like a bucket.
Livia leaned up to his ear and said, "Face me," in a husky voice she'd never used before.
Blake turned achingly slowly until the platform light finally revealed his face. Despite the rain every ~ Debra Anastasia

Anger is essential if one is to survive this world. It's not just a degenerate emotion that destroys everything in its path. If it were so completely destructive, why would people of every religion in the world imbue God with it? "Don't do that! Allah will get angry," my aunts used to say. People use it with children all the time. Be good and avoid the wrath of those with the capacity to strike you down in an instant. Your entire life may be governed by this simple principle - Be good to avoid angering those who have more power than you. ~ Jinat Rehana Begum

Although God loves us unconditionally, He does get angry at sin, wickedness and evil. But He is not an angry God. God hates sin, but He loves sinners! He will never approve of sin in your life, but He always loves you and wants to work with you to make progress in living a holy life in Christ. ~ Joyce Meyer

Is there a God? Who knows? Is there an angry unicorn on the dark side of the moon? ~ Edward Abbey

Father . . . ," Gabriel began. "Father is a worm."
Will gave a short laugh. He was in gear as if he had just come from the practice room, and his hair curled damply against his temples. He was not looking at Tessa, but she had grown used to that. Will hardly ever looked at her unless he had to. "It's good to see you've come round to our view of things, Gabriel, but this is an unusual way of announcing it."
Gideon shot Will a reproachful look before turning back to his brother. "What do you mean, Gabriel? What did Father do?"
Gabriel shook his head. "He's a worm," he said again, tonelessly.
"I know. He has brought shame on the name of Lightwood, and lied to both of us. He shamed and destroyed our mother. But we need not be like him."
Gabriel pulled away from his brother's grip, his teeth suddenly flashing in an angry scowl. "You're not listening to me," he said. "He's a worm. A worm. A bloody great serpentlike thing. Since Mortmain stopped sending the medicine, he's been getting worse. Changing. Those sores upon his arms, they started to cover him. His hands, his neck, h-his face . . ." Gabriel's green eyes sought Will. "It was the pox, wasn't it? You know all about it, don't you? Aren't you some sort of expert?"
"Well, you needn't act as if I invented it," said Will. "Just because I believed it existed. There are accounts of it - old stories in the library - ~ Cassandra Clare

Smoke and dust hanging over the city like the hand of an angry God ~ Ron Veness

Punk was sort of an angry stance against things that had happened just before, against the pop of glam rock, against progressive rock. Music had become very staid and it was about the playing and people obsessed. Eric Clapton was God and we needed an enema within the art form, and punk did do that. ~ Gary Kemp

I couldn't return to you, mignonne. I didn't know how. But you will admit, I hope, that for a man who didn't wish to be found I've made quite a spectacle of myself. I wanted you to hear of me. It's why I came from France. I couldn't stop myself. I've waited in dread, wondering if you'd come. I've been terrified you would, and terrified you wouldn't. When I saw you tonight I wanted to weep. I was so grateful you came, but I hated you for it, too, because you made me hope again, as you always have, as you always do. It would have killed me if. . . Ah, Christ, love! You were so angry, so disappointed but you'd waited. I had to know. I had to come because without you I have nothing to believe in, nothing to hope for, and... Oh, God, Sarah, when I got here you were wearing my shirt! I've thought of you, and ached for you, and missed you with every breath. All I know of loving, wanting or need, begins and ends with you. I'm so sorry I hurt you and disappointed you. I pray you can forgive me, Sarah. I need you to hold onto. Without you I find this business of living so very lonely and so very hard."

She threw herself into his arms and he clasped her to him, sobbing with relief and need. "God, how I've missed you, Sarah," he moaned, sliding his cheek up and down against hers, mingling their tears. I'm sorry ... so sorry .. . please forgive me, I.. . "There's nothing to forgive. It wasn't your fault. It doesn't matter, not any of it. All that matters is that you're safe, an ~ Judith James

On the hill opposite, Joachim tolled the midday bell, announcing lunch to the workers in the fields. Klaus listened a moment, then said, "I thought it would be a bleaker scene."
Dietrich turned to him, "What would be?"
"This day. I thought it would be marked by terrible signs - lowering clouds, ominous winds, a crack of thunder. Twilight. Yet, it is so ordinary a morning that I grow frightened."
"Only now frightened."
"Ja. Portents would mean a Divine Mover, however mysterious His moves; and the wrath of an angry God may be turned away by prayer and penance. But it simply happened. Everard grew sick and fell down. There were no signs; so it may be a natural thing, as you have always said. And against nature, we have no recourse. ~ Michael Flynn

During his illness he had spent every minute of consciousness calling upon God, every second of every minute. Ya Allah whose servant lies bleeding do not abandon me now after watching oven me so long. Ya Allah show me some sign, some small mark of your favour, that I may find in myself the strength to cure my ills. O God most beneficent most merciful, be with me in this my time of need, my most grievous need. Then it occurred to him that he was being punished, and for a time that made it possible to suffer the pain, but after a time he got angry. Enough, God, his unspoken words demanded, why must I die when I have not killed, are you vengeance or are you love? The anger with God carried him through another day, but then it faded, and in its place there came a terrible emptiness, an isolation, as he realized he was talking to _thin air_, that there was nobody there at all, and then he felt more foolish than ever in his life, and he began to plead into the emptiness, ya Allah, just be there, damn it, just be. But he felt nothing, nothing nothing, and then one day he found that he no longer needed there to be anything to feel. On that day of metamorphosis the illness changed and his recovery began. And to prove to himself the non-existence of God, he now stood in the dining-hall of the city's most famous hotel, with pigs falling out of his face. ~ Salman Rushdie

If we speak of an angry God at all, we will speak of a God angry at indifference, angry at apathy, angry at racism and violence, angry at inhumanity, angry at waste, angry at destruction, angry at injustice, angry at hostile religious clannishness. That anger is never against us (or them); it is against what is against us (and them). ~ Brian D. McLaren

Power needs balance," said Amar. "Our game today, as our reign, is simply a matter of reaction. What can we do when chaos is flung into our face?"
A sound sliced through the air. I looked up just in time to see an arrow heading straight for me.
"What will you do?" asked Amar. His voice was everywhere at once.
I felt a tug in my hands, a strange itch and restlessness. Without thinking, I threw up my hands, all my attention focused on the arrow. It stopped midair. I flicked my hand and it whirled to charge at Amar. He snapped his fingers and the arrow shivered, paled and turned into a blossom of ice.
"I take it you're angry," said Amar. The brittleness from his voice wasn't gone; if anything it seemed more pronounced. "Only two more days until the full moon. Then, if you want, you may certainly fling arrows into my back. Until then, try for more creativity. We cannot just spin problems back. We must do more."
More, I thought. I could do that.
I don't know how much time passed while we danced, spinning power between us like it was just another game. He tossed the ball of ice my way and I shattered it.
"What were you thinking when you broke that?" he asked. Even though I saw him across the room, I could feel his voice at my ear, low and burning.
"You."
He laughed and continued to conjure things out of the air and throw them to me. ~ Roshani Chokshi

In my experiences, the common critic of Christianity, when he thinks of Christianity, imagines a sort of elementary, Sunday School blunder of elements: fiery Hell, an angry God, 'try not to sin', 'be good so that you can go to Heaven', absurd miracles, hyper-fundamentalist tales, religious hypocrites, and Jesus telling people not to judge. There is no horse more dead than such. I maintain that understanding Christianity and the Bible is quite like painting a piece of art. Let a toddler paint a puppy; then let an adult who is a long-time painter paint the very same puppy. They are both paintings of the puppy, but one is far more detailed, rational, realistic, and believable than the other. One is distorted and comical; the other is proportional and lively. One can write off Theology if he so pleases, but he might not be very wise in using the toddler's painting when it comes time to identify the real puppy or when trying to confront actual men of the Faith. ~ Criss Jami

What will you do when the Law of God comes in terror; when the trumpet of the archangel shall tear you from your grave; when the eyes of God shall burn their way into your guilty soul; when the great books shall be opened and all your sin and shame shall be punished ... can you stand against an angry Law in that Day? ~ Charles Spurgeon

God, she's beautiful. I mean, look at her. She's like a volcano going off - fierce and fiery and breathtaking. If she doesn't find a way to ugly herself down, I'm going to be spending an awful lot of time pissing her off. Which might not be such a bad thing in the end. Angry sex is awesome. ~ Emma Chase

You want to know what's wrong?" He took her chin, forcing her to look at him. She could feel the angry pounding of his heart through the soft leather of his jerkin. "I'll tell you what's wrong. I want you so bad, I can't
think straight. My body is on fire. I can't look at you without wanting to pull you into my arms. I can't touch you without thinking of running my hands
all over you." Her eyes widened. The raw desire in his gaze shocked her.
Never had she thought herself capable of driving a man to such extreme
passion. "But that is only half the problem." His eyes had narrowed to slits, the lines around his mouth etched white. The dark stubble of his beard cast an ominous shadow along his hard, square jaw.
Whatever the problem, it didn't bode well for her. She tried to pull away, for the first time truly frightened, but he wouldn't let her go. His arms
were like steel.
"You want to know what's really wrong, Elizabeth?" His face was only inches from hers. "I saw you kiss him." He spoke each word with damning precision. ~ Monica McCarty

People who think of God as a warrior may become warriors themselves, whether in a Christian crusade, a Muslim jihad, or an apocalyptically oriented militia. People who think of God as righteous are likely to emphasize righteousness themselves, just as those who think of God as compassionate are likely to emphasize compassion. People who think God is angry at the world are likely to be angry at the world themselves. ~ Marcus Borg

The bow of God's wrath is bent, and the arrow made ready on the string, and justice bends the arrow at your heart, and strains the bow, and it is nothing but the mere pleasure of God, and that of an angry God, without any promise or obligation at all, that keeps the arrow one moment from being made drunk with your blood. ~ Jonathan Edwards

I know no surer way of shaking off the dreary crust formed about the soul by the trying to do one's duty or the patient enduring of having somebody else's duty done to one, than going out alone, either at the bright beginning of the day, when the earth is still unsoiled by the feet of the strenuous and only God is abroad; or in the evening, when the hush has come, out to the blessed stars, and looking up at them wonder at the meanness of the day just past, at the worthlessness of the things one has struggled for, at the folly of having been so angry, and so restless, and so much afraid. Nothing focusses life more exactly than a little while alone at night with the stars. What are perfunctory bedroom prayers hurried through in an atmosphere of blankets, to this deep abasement of the spirit before the majesty of heaven? And as a consecration of what should be yet one more happy day, of what value are those hasty morning devotions, ~ Elizabeth Von Arnim

Anger and the like are attributed to God on account of a similitude of effect. Thus, because to punish is properly the act of an angry man, God's punishment is metaphorically spoken of as His anger. ~ Thomas Aquinas

This fucking city is full of nothing but thugs, money grubbing porn-bitches, and hustlers. I'm calling the police." Ex fumed as he struggled to pull his cell from his pocket.

If Syn weren't so damn angry it would've been funny as shit the way the man's jaw dropped when God and Day both pulled their gold badges out from under their shirts. Day smiled that sinister grin and kneeled in front of them, speaking in an official tone, "911, what is your emergency? ~ A.E. Via

The bitterness, the sin you retain, can produce the same results that hurt you. If you were raised in an abusive environment, if you come from a family filled with anger and dysfunction, instead of becoming bitter and angry, why don't you be the one to put an end to the negative cycle?
You can be the one to make a difference. Are you holding on to anger and unforgiveness and passing poison down to the next generation? Or are you willing to let it go so your family can rise to a new level?
I realize it can be very hard to forgive, especially when someone has hurt you, but God will never ask you to do something without giving you the ability to do it.
Forgiveness is a process. It doesn't happen overnight. You don't snap your fingers and make a hurt go away. That's not realistic. But if you'll continue to have the desire to forgive and ask God to help you, then little by little those negative feelings will fade. One day they won't affect you at all. ~ Joel Osteen

Saying a prayer can be as simple as thinking positive thoughts about someone - it's not an act that needs to be tied to any particular religion or system of beliefs. I can say a prayer just by saying "I wish you peace" after someone becomes angry with me for something trivial; I can say a prayer for the woman who is always cheerful (or gloomy) at the store where I shop by thinking "I wish you all the best in life - good health, good relationships, and all of your true needs fulfilled." Of course, if you want to pray to God in the form in which you conceive of God, that's fine, too - and your prayer will not be wasted. Think about it. Is the world a better place when you walk away from someone either forgetting them immediately or thinking negative thoughts about them? This world of ours can use all the positive thoughts we can contribute to it, and our simple and heartfelt prayers are some of the most positive thoughts we can create and share. And they affect us as much as, if not more than, they affect the objects of our prayers. ~ Tom Walsh

Sometimes, he thought of himself as an elephant walking through the china store, breaking everything in his path and still expecting people not to be angry with the damage he made, but rather to admire his strength and his endurance. ~ Stevan V. Nikolic

My thanks for your hospitality, Roran Stronghammer," he said, raising his voice so that his entire troop could hear. "Mayhap I will soon have the honor of entertaining you within the walls of Aroughs. If so, I promise to serve you the finest wines from my family's estate, and perhaps with them I will be able to wean you off such barbaric milk as you have there. I think you will find our wine has much to recommend it. We let it age in oaken casks for months or sometimes even years. It would be a pity if all that work were wasted and the casks were knocked open and the wine were allowed to run out into the streets and paint them red with the blood of our grapes."
"That would indeed be a shame," Roran replied, "but sometimes you cannot avoid spilling a bit of wine when cleaning your table." Holding the horn out to one side, he tipped it over and poured what little mead remained onto the grass below.
Tharos was utterly still for a moment--even the feathers on his helm were motionless--then, with an angry snarl, he yanked his horse around and shouted at his men, "Form up! Form up, I say…Yah!" And with that final yell, he spurred his horse away from Roran, and the rest of the soldiers followed, urging their steeds to a gallop as they retraced their steps to Aroughs.
Roran maintained his pretense of arrogance and indifference until the soldiers were well away, then he slowly released his breath and rested his elbows on his knees. His hands were trembling slightly.
Christopher Paolini

Horace, fit, and athletic and light on his feet, gave their guards the fewest opportunities to beat him, although on one occasion an angry Tualaghi, furious that Horace misunderstood an order to kneel, slashed his dagger across the young man's face, opening a thin, shallow cut on his right cheek. The wound was superficial but as Evanlyn treated it that evening, Horace shamelessly pretended that it was more painful than it really was. He enjoyed the touch of her ministering hands. Halt and Gilan, bruised and weary, watched as she cleaned the wound and gently pated it dry. Horace did a wonderful job of pretending to bear great pain with stoic bravery. Halt shook his head in disgust.
"What faker," he said to Gilan. The younger Ranger nodded.
"Yes. He's really making a meal of it isn't he?" He paused, then added more ruefully, "Wish I'd thought of it first. ~ John Flanagan