
Dinosaur Nose… that’s what they called me.
Recently, in a moment of foolishness, I told my eldest son of a childhood nickname: “dinosaur nose.” My friends teased me for the lower center part of my nose and the ball-shaped end to it. (I guess they thought it resembled a dinosaur.) In this moment of parental fatuity, I handed my 13 year old the exact weapon he needed to disarm me at any given moment. Now, when he is in trouble, about to have a consequence, asked what his favorite part about me is or simply wants to distract me from holding him accountable to his work, he just points to the dinosaur nose and reminds me of the vulnerable little child I have inside.
I actually love this attribute about my son. His ability to make me smile when I am the butt of the joke is a trait I hope he never loses.
And I hope our home always holds this kind of humor. I am a firm believer in gentle affectionate roasting and good-natured ribbing. They are, in my summation, telltale signs of healthy dynamics within relationships. There can only be playful teasing when there is immense trust and safety within the unit. Only a secure friendship withstands playful banter in this way. We are all too familiar when trust has been broken, or unresolved conflict, the play between friends ceases. Even familiar jokes become wartime attacks. It is only within relationships built on humility and acceptance where genuine vulnerability and authenticity can emerge. Only in safety, can weaknesses be exposed without risk of exploitation. It is acceptance of one another’s shortcomings that fosters depth and genuineness in friendships and familial relationships.
After nearly 40 years with this face, I am starting to see that maybe my big nose isn’t such a bad thing.
Exodus 34:6-7 [He is] merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, but who will by no means clear the guilty.
This word “slow to anger” literally is Erekh appayim, which means “long of nostrils.” It is a vivid poetic description of someone whose anger is slow to rise within them. It takes a long time for the anger to bubble up and out of our God. He slowly breathes in through a “long nostril,” giving space for his children’s repentance; allowing us to stumble and to grow. He is not rash nor hot-headed but shows restraint as he waits for us to come back to Him and see His truth.
But slowly, the Father does grow angry, and He is the only one to have fully righteous anger. Let us be truthful in our interpretation of a large portion of the Old Testament: God is angry at sin. God’s anger is not contradictory to His love or mercy—it is the expression of His holiness against what is contrary to His perfect goodness. He is angry because He knows sin is destructive to the souls of His children, tearing down both the perpetrator and the victim.
God, in His righteous wrath destroyed cities like Sodom, for they were “arrogant, overfed, and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy. They were haughty and did detestable things.” It was not only about sexual immorality; they were a people corrupted to the core by pride, selfishness, and oppression of the most vulnerable. His anger was directed at injustice and exploitation, because God’s protection extends to the weak and marginalized.
Likewise, Jesus demonstrated this same kind of anger toward the hypocrisy and misrepresentation of God found in the Pharisees. His anger was righteous and purposeful, exposing sin and protecting the vulnerable. He is calling all of us back to God’s truth.
Wherever you see the wrath of God, you can always find a long and patient suffering preceding it. He waits to provide an opportunity for repentance. In contrast, “the anger of man does not bring about the righteousness of God.” James 1:19. Our anger is self-seeking, disproportionate, quick, and often ego-centric.
Our anger, often corrupted, is usually a secondary emotion responding to an underlying fear, hurt, frustration, vulnerability, or shame. We are afraid of being taken advantage of, so we seek vengeance. We feel weak, so we lash out to demonstrate strength. We feel overwhelmed, so we express frustration as shouting and attempt to micromanage the surroundings to grasp at control. We seek to take revenge, asserting our own prideful thinking or agenda. As we express it, the monster inside us grows stronger and more dominant.
We become the worst version of ourselves and cast fear and cowardice into those closest to us. We begin with pure righteous indignation of an injustice, then our fleshly anger becomes a destructive chaotic force. We do this when we are not anchored in patience and consideration. Like a father whose son is misbehaving gives into his own wrath becoming an abuser desiring to purge the folly of his son. Or like a homeschool mother transforming into a bully because of the distracted nature of her children. It stems from love for the child, but grows dark and corrupted. The parent now gives into their own bitterness and rage rather than patiently and measuredly giving consequences that do good for the child.
God’s anger, on the other hand, is always measured, purposeful, protective, and righteous. Not impulsive and misdirected as ours can be. He only expresses the necessary amount of wrath to purge the evil from His people.
Our anger can be double-sided, unpredictable, misguided, and hurled onto the wrong person whose proximity is their only failing. A bad day at work can make a quick-tempered father. An unresolved marriage dispute can mold unyielding and harsh parents. A lonesome student becomes a bully-fied big brother. We take the evil done to us and cast it to others.
Last week, I lost it.
The words I hurled at my son during a homeschool math lesson were sharp, harsh, and entirely disproportionate to the offense.
In the same week, my mother remarked how I had “the patience of a saint” during a different lesson. The contrast struck me: how can I be this saintly sage one minute and a quick-tempered bully the next? Sometimes even moments apart. The truth is, that one was me, and the other was the Spirit at work within me. It was Jesus’ long-suffering and patient endurance that empowered me to be gentle amidst frustrating circumstances. It is when I remember His “long-nostriled” patience toward me that His spirit endures with me and through me in difficulty.
Our world is also ruled by quick-tempered and narcissistic anger. News outlets feed off the quick judgments and villainization of those with opposing viewpoints. Sound bites out of context go viral to ensure that enemies are made among friends and families. The ruler of this world aims to separate and divide. He aims to de-humanize others in our eyes so we can see them as the villain, fully wicked and full of bad intentions. Giving in to that type of thought always leads to violence, as we have seen this month.
“You start to think the other side is so evil and so wrong that you lose the ability to humanize them.” stated Charlie Kirk.
Bill Maher, during an episode of Real Time, said: “The real war is not between left or right; it’s between the people on both sides who want a war and the people who don’t.” Maher, likable as he is, would not be someone I would describe as wise. He does not accept that the battle is not against flesh and blood at all, but rather a spiritual one. He is onto something, though, concluding the true conflict in America isn’t solely ideological but centers on those who seek division and conflict versus those who desire unity and peace.
The Bible teaches us there is a prince of darkness reigning here, and during his tenure, we, as Christians, are called to fight. We are not on defense. We are on offense, fighting the war within our own minds… the impulses that give into bitterness and rage. We fight for peace among all people, awaiting the coming King who will bring that peace here once and for all.
Take a look with me at a quick passage in Isaiah where we see the transformative power of God’s holiness.
In Isaiah 6:6-7, the prophet Isaiah has a vision of the Lord seated on a throne, surrounded by holy creatures. Overcome by fear of the holiness of God, Isaiah declares himself unworthy, saying, “Woe is me! For I am a man of unclean lips.” He knows God’s holiness demands perfection and acknowledges that he does not belong in the presence of holy God. He is rightfully intimidated by the righteous wrath and holiness of God.
Our King’s anger is always justified, like a scalpel used with precision by a perfect surgeon to remove wickedness and bring healing to the world. God’s anger produces righteousness and has the good of the recipient in mind.
When will we learn to not return evil for evil but to take our ails to the cross and lay them at the feet of the one who can absorb and transform all of it?
In response to Isaiah’s declaration, one of God’s seraphim flies to him with a live coal from the altar and touches it to Isaiah’s lips: “Behold, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for”. Instead of having to purify himself before coming to God’s presence, God’s holiness and purity comes to him, scorches his lips and cleanses him so that he too can become holy. The coal being brought to Isaiah is like Jesus coming to us, commanding we come to him, unholy and humbled, acknowledging our sin and allowing Him to do the work of purification.
Our very impulses are corrupted. Our inward beings are bent toward evil. Even our perceived “righteous indignation” of injustice on this earth is dealt with incorrectly by our limited views and arrogant thoughts. Transforming our anger can only come from yielding our hearts and our impulses to Jesus. It is when we release control and surrender all power and all justice into the hands of the mighty one, that we find perfect peace. He will do much better than we ever could.
Remember His character demonstrated in Exodus, his steadfast love abounds, and his anger waits.
Testimonies of our Dinosaur Noses
Christians, consider your own attempts at bringing justice, truth, or lessons in holiness to a non-believer. Have you, in harshness or arrogant certainty, condemned a lost one? Have you, out of frustration with your child’s behavior, displayed quick-tempered or explosive anger? Has your own emotional irregularity caused others to walk on eggshells, afraid and unsafe? Has your witness hindered someone who is hesitant to call God “good”?
As Rosario Butterfield warns, “Our neighbors do not think they need saving from their sins; they believe they need saving from us—their Christian neighbors.” Consider your own anger. Then, my friend, consider the cross. Reflect on God’s divine endurance and long-suffering toward our rebellious and neglectful disobedience. How often do His nostrils flare with patience for you? Have you recalled His patience in your life? Have you truly considered the cross, where God’s love was demonstrated as He took on the rightful wrath our sin deserved? He swallowed up death and sin in one swift and justified act of just mercy. The great and mysterious collision that changed history. He drank the cup of all of God’s wrath, so that we, the rebellious, could live with Him forever in peace.
May we, in turn, learn to extend patience, mercy, and restraint to others, allowing God’s long-nostriled love to shape how we respond to the world around us.
-Rachel