Last year, a friend finally took the courage to divorce her husband. He was unfaithful, abusive, manipulative, and distant. She'd felt burdened by the obligation to keep the peace, even though her husband was effectively at war with her. Eventually, she felt her anger and flipped the tables. By setting boundaries, she demonstrated love—caring for herself and protecting her kids. Her husband had already ended the marriage through his actions; she was just recognizing the reality. He could no longer use the fiction of "being married" to continue harming her. In a deeper sense, God gave his people the Temple so they could enjoy fellowship with him. It was supposed to be where heaven met earth, where people could encounter God. But the religious gatekeepers had turned it into a profit center. They were exploiting worshippers, and Jesus was furious. Look at what his disciples remembered: "Zeal for your house will consume me." That verb is in the future tense. This same protective anger would eventually cost Jesus his life. His rage at the corruption of his Father's house pointed straight toward the cross. Jesus knew the problem in our hearts. He not only demonstrated that the Temple had failed God's people, but he also offered his life to restore fellowship between God and man. Jesus's anger and love aren't opposites. They're two sides of the same coin.