Anger, Fear, Resentment, and Character Defects

Dear Reader,  

Today I was looking over some of my writings from one year ago to the day.  I found this subject and some references that have allowed me to explore the message in more depth.  The below is the result. 

 

A Reflection for Recovery and Inner Freedom 

    In recovery, we come face to face with many inner obstacles. None are more persistent or corrosive than anger, fear, resentment, and the deeper character defects they often reveal. 

"Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured."  — Mark Twain 

Anger, when left unchecked, turns inward and becomes resentment—a slow poison to the soul. As we learn in the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, resentment is the number one offender. It destroys more alcoholics than anything else. It’s no surprise then that recovery calls for fearless moral inventories—not to punish ourselves but to uncover the wounds behind the reactions. 

“Your character defects are not where you’re bad, but where you’re wounded. But no matter who or what causes the wound, it’s yours now and you’re responsible for it.” 

— Marianne Williamson 

This is one of the hardest truths in recovery: we are responsible not for what was done to us, but for what we do with it now. Responsibility doesn’t mean shame. It means power—the power to heal, to release, and to grow. To see that our defects—be they anger, pride, self-pity, or judgment—are often not signs of evil but scars that never healed. 

As Bill Wilson wrote: 

“We have begun to learn tolerance, patience and good will toward all men, even our enemies, for we look on them as sick people… We avoid retaliation or argument. We wouldn't treat sick people that way. If we do, we destroy our chance of being helpful.” 

— Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 67 

We also learn that fear is not just a passing emotion; it’s a chronic disconnection from the present and from trust in God. 

"Fear keeps us focused on the past or worried about the future. Without acknowledging our fear, and realizing that right now we are okay, we cannot fully be joyous and free." 

— Thich Nhat Hanh 

To be “joyous and free” means to live in the now, letting go of fear's control, and embracing a Higher Power who carries us through uncertainty. We start by naming our fears, seeing where they block us from action, intimacy, or truth. 

In doing this work, we inevitably encounter resentments—old injuries replayed in our minds like bad records. But the spiritual life reminds us that we cannot hold onto grudges and still hope for grace. 

“If you hug to yourself any resentment against anybody else, you destroy the bridge by which God would come to you.” 

— Peter Marshall 

Forgiveness, then, is not about ignoring wrongdoing. It’s about choosing freedom over the chains of bitterness. As Mosiah 26:29 declares: “If he confess his sins before thee and me, and repenteth in the sincerity of his heart, him shall ye forgive, and I will forgive him also.” 

Even Christ, when faced with false judgment and scorn, responded not with resentment, but with divine clarity: 

"You judge by human standards; I pass judgment on no one… I am one who testifies for myself; my other witness is the Father, who sent me." 

— John 8:15–18 

Christ teaches us to live from a place of identity and purpose, not reaction. He knew who He was and where He was going. In recovery, we too must rediscover our true selves—beneath the layers of defense, fear, and false pride. 

“In building a strong recovery one must inventory their character defects; exposing them for what they are and then releasing those holding us back from our best and God given future.” 

— Anonymous 

We are not defined by our defects but by our willingness to surrender them. And as we do, we begin to see that recovery is not about perfection—it’s about transformation. 

 

A Closing Thought: 

Socrates once said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” But in recovery, we might say, the examined life is where freedom begins. 

When we bring our defects into the light—with courage, faith, and honesty—we find healing not only for ourselves, but for those around us. 

Let us not be afraid of anger, fear, or resentment. Let us face them with God's help, and let them become doorways to the deeper life we were always meant to live. 

 

Thank you for listening. I testify in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen 

Picture notes: Birds Representing emotional burdens being released. Sunlight breaking through clouds: Symbolizing clarity, grace, and the presence of a Higher Power. Hilltop or high place: Reflecting spiritual elevation and a shift in perspective.

Patient Hope and Still in Action

Dear friends,

We live in a world that often rewards speed, noise, and visibility. Yet the quiet strength of patient hope—the kind that waits with purpose and moves with trust—is among the most powerful forces for good in our lives.

As early Christian Tertullian once said, “Hope is patient with the lamp lit.” True hope doesn’t just sit idle; it stays ready, watching for the dawn, lamp in hand. Similarly, Samuel Smiles compared hope to the sun: “Hope is like the sun, which, as we journey toward it, casts the shadow of our burden behind us.” These words remind us that hope shifts our burdens—not by eliminating them, but by helping us see them differently as we move forward.

This is not passive waiting. Patient hope is infused with action. In recovery and in faith, we learn that we must do something—pray, write, serve, walk forward even when we don’t see the whole path.

As the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous teaches: “You can’t think your way into right action, but you can act your way into right thinking.” This echoes the invitation in James 2: “Seest thou how faith wrought with his works, and by works was faith made perfect?” Abraham’s belief was not an inner feeling only—it moved his feet and shaped his choices. His faith lived through action.

Likewise, modern prophets have reminded us that “Faith is not to have a perfect knowledge of things; therefore if ye have faith ye hope for things which are not seen, which are true” (Alma 32:21). That faith is always active. As Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf said:

“Hope is one leg of a three-legged stool, together with faith and charity. Without these three, we cannot stand. But with them, we can rise above our trials and walk forward with courage.”

Hope helps us walk—and sometimes stumble—into the next right step.

President Russell M. Nelson taught:

“The Lord loves effort. And effort brings rewards that can’t come without it.”

That doesn’t mean we rush ahead blindly or act without thought. Patient hope is wise. It waits on the Lord while continuing to plant, water, serve, and love. One day at a time, we live in the trust that our “potential comes as a gift,” and as the anonymous quote reminds us, “the value of the gift can only be seen in the actions of our lives.”

John F. Kennedy warned of the risk of “comfortable inaction.” Benjamin Disraeli put it more positively: “Action may not always bring happiness; but there is no happiness without action.” In our walk with Christ and in our recovery journeys, this rings deeply true.

Hope does not demand immediate change. But it asks us to keep going—keep trying, keep loving, keep stepping forward. That is stillness in motion, peace with purpose, patience that acts.

So today, let’s keep the lamp lit. Let’s be still—but not stuck. Let’s move—but not rush. Let us embrace the sacred partnership of patient hope and meaningful action.

In wisdom of our savior Jesus Christ.  Amen

Charity: The pure love of Christ

 

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

I have been asked to speak on the subject of charity. I recognize that many of you already have thoughts and experiences with this powerful word, but I hope to add something meaningful by sharing some reflections and scriptures that guide me in daily life.

• • I was once asked, “Why do you volunteer as much as you do?” My answer, almost instinctively, is: “That is who I am.”

    I don’t say this to draw attention to my own actions, but to point out that for me, charity has become part of my identity. It is the true love of Jesus Christ. And if I’m going to love my family, my neighbor, the downtrodden—or even someone who has wronged me—then I must be willing to step down from comfort and walk in the valleys, where the sick, the poor, and the honest, struggling children of God walk.

    The word charity has deep roots. From the Latin caritas, meaning dearness or affection, and the Greek agapē, meaning a divine, selfless, sacrificial love. We find this expressed beautifully in 1 Corinthians 13:4–8:

    “Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not;
    vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,
    Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own,
    is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;
    Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth;
    Beareth all things, believeth all things,
    hopeth all things, endureth all things.
    Charity never faileth...”

    This kind of divine love begins at home. It’s found in how we care for, support, and protect those closest to us. In my home, I have the responsibility to listen, advise, and listen again. Sometimes it means sweeping a floor or doing the dishes. These simple acts, done with love, are still charity.

    Charity also extends into our communities. It might be helping someone fix up their yard, offering a ride, or showing up when others don’t. The key is to act—or more pointedly, to be available.

    This brings me to the question: Where does charity end? When is enough, enough?

    The scriptures remind us that charity is not limited. In Moroni 7:47–48, we read:

    “Charity is the pure love of Christ, and it endureth forever;
    and whoso is found possessed of it at the last day,
    it shall be well with him.
    Wherefore, my beloved brethren, pray unto the Father with all the energy of heart,
    that ye may be filled with this love…”

    Charity is not just divine love from Christ—it is the love we must receive and then give to others. It transforms us from within and expresses itself outwardly. It is not optional for those who wish to follow Christ; it is essential.

    The Apostle Paul, in Colossians 3:12–17, gives us another beautiful list of Christlike traits. He writes:

    “Put on therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved,
    bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, longsuffering;
    Forbearing one another, and forgiving one another…
    And above all these things put on charity, which is the bond of perfectness.
    And let the peace of God rule in your hearts…
    And whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus,
    giving thanks to God and the Father by him.”

    That phrase “the bond of perfectness” speaks to me. Charity binds everything else together. It isn’t one virtue among many—it is what makes all the others whole. Without charity, our service is hollow. With it, even small acts carry eternal weight.

    Charity endures beyond this life. Moroni reminds us in Moroni 7:42 that:

    “If a man be meek and lowly in heart, and confesses by the power of the Holy Ghost
    that Jesus is the Christ, he must needs have charity;
    for if he have not charity he is nothing…”

    I don’t claim to know what awaits in the next life, but I hope that the charity I try to live today—through simple service, patience with family, or acts of quiet kindness—will remain part of me. Until then, I’ll keep a smile on my face and a prayer in my heart for those I walk with today.

    In doing so, I believe I’m offering—however small—a portion of the grace Jesus described when He said:

    “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren,
    ye have done it unto me.” — Matthew 25:40

    Christ’s charity lives in us when we care for the poor, the hungry, the sick, the lonely, and the forgotten.

    So I invite us all to seek charity—not just through acts of service, but also through repentance, and by asking God to change our hearts. As Moroni says, “Pray with all the energy of heart…”

    I testify that charity—true, Christlike love—is the highest expression of discipleship.
    It is the essence of His gospel.
    It heals the world, and it transforms the heart.