Tell me how you love me. If our souls will be peaceful, our minds can hear the words of comfort from those who love us from the other side of the vail. If we let them tell us all that is in their hearts, our pain will be swallowed up in assurance. Immortals gladly do what weak mortals struggle to do. Any time we presume to judge another person, we are usurping the role of God.
Criticism is always presumptuous and ungracious.
And that is the problem with anger. It presumes that my view is the standard of truth. It exalts my needs while dismissing yours. It fills me with indignation in my least righteous moments. It assumes that the best way for me to help you is to paint your errors in vibrant colors.