Don’t Waste Your Art on Anger

There’s a quote from the 1989 film Dead Poets Society that has stayed with me for years. Robin Williams’s character says:

“Poetry, beauty, romance, love—these are what we stay alive for.”

That line has always rung true to me. Art, in all its forms, was never meant to be a weapon or a megaphone for outrage. Art is about meaning. It’s about connection. It’s about beauty. It’s about reminding us—especially in difficult seasons—why life is still worth living.

And yet, the longer I spend in online creative spaces, the more I see art being used for something else entirely.

Around 2020, as I became more active on social media, I intentionally sought out communities built around the things I love. I adore books, so bookstagram felt like a natural fit. I wanted to talk about stories, discover new authors, share what I was reading, and write about the books that moved me.

That’s not what I found.

Instead, I found politics. Anger. Rage. Cancel culture. Public shaming. Nastiness—often aimed at strangers. And it wasn’t limited to one side of the political spectrum. It was everywhere. The joy of reading, the beauty of storytelling, and the love of language were drowned out by outrage and moral grandstanding.

I lasted maybe two years before I was tired. Not just annoyed—tired. Spiritually tired. Creatively tired. Emotionally tired.

A couple of years ago, I tried again. This time, I stepped into the online craft community. Once more, I hoped to find inspiration, encouragement, and artists whose work would challenge me to grow. I even saw it as a way to market what I hope will someday be a thriving business.

But here I am again, considering stepping away.

Why?

Because once again, I’m watching people use their art to express anger and rage.

Before this is misunderstood, let me be clear: this is not a commentary on anyone’s personal politics, nor is it a declaration of my own. I am constantly soul-searching, praying, and thinking deeply about what I believe. What I do know is this—man-made politics will always be imperfect. Always. Only God reigns supreme, and only His ways are perfect.

I also believe—strongly—that someone can love God wholeheartedly, serve Him faithfully, and maintain a beautiful relationship with Him while voting differently than I do. And that’s okay. Differences without division. My pastor says that often, and it’s something I hold onto tightly.

People love to say, “Art is political.”

I disagree.

Art is only political if you make it political.

At its core, art is meant to be beautiful and precious. It’s meant to tell stories, stir the soul, and create something that didn’t exist before. It’s meant to point us toward hope, not deepen our despair. As Dead Poets Society so perfectly puts it, poetry, beauty, romance, and love are what we stay alive for.

What troubles me most, though, is the contradiction I keep seeing.

The same artists who repeatedly say, “I craft for my mental health,” often create nothing but anger and rage. If every piece is fueled by outrage, if every project exists to provoke or condemn, how is that healing? How is that restorative? Anger doesn’t disappear once the project is finished—it lingers. What we pour into our art shapes us in return.

To be clear, this isn’t an announcement that I’m shutting down my Instagram account or walking away from social media entirely. It is a conscious decision to be far more intentional about what I consume, what I engage with, and what I allow to influence my heart. Protecting my peace isn’t avoidance—it’s stewardship. Not every conversation deserves my energy, and not every creative space is healthy for my spirit.

Above all else, my objective remains unchanged: to love the way Jesus loves—everyone, and at all times. That means choosing grace over outrage, humility over hostility, and compassion over the need to be right. I don’t want my creativity—or my character—to be shaped by anger. I want it shaped by love.

So if that means fewer hours scrolling and more hours actually creating, I’m okay with that. If that means stepping back from spaces that thrive on judgment and rage, I’m okay with that too. I’ll gladly trade noise for beauty, outrage for peace, and endless commentary for meaningful creation.

I’ll probably spend more time on Pinterest. I’ll definitely spend more time making things—things that are lovely, thoughtful, and life-giving. Things that remind me why I fell in love with art in the first place.

Because poetry, beauty, romance, and love really are what we stay alive for. And I refuse to waste my art on anger.

Scripture reminds us, “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things” (Philippians 4:8). That is the posture I want my art—and my life—to reflect. Not anger. Not rage. But beauty, truth, and love.

A Prayer

Lord,
Thank You for the gift of creativity and for the ability to make things that reflect beauty, truth, and love. Guard my heart from anger that hardens and outrage that distracts. Help me to be a good steward of the gifts You’ve placed in my hands and the voice You’ve given me.

Teach me to create from a place of peace rather than reaction, from love rather than fear. When the noise grows loud and division feels tempting, draw me back to what is good, what is lovely, and what brings life. Shape my art so that it points to You and reflects Your grace.

Most of all, help me to love as You love—freely, generously, and without condition. May my words, my work, and my choices honor You in both what I create and what I choose to lay down.

Amen.