Rage seems to be an ever-present part of daily life. It's in my conversations with friends and strangers, in the checkout line at the grocery store, at the dinner table, in my social media feeds. And often, frankly, it's in me.

Many times, the rage is a response to violence committed against vulnerable people. It's grounded in real, personal experiences of abuse of power, denial of dignity, manipulation, coercion and harm. Sometimes, it's a response to a gradual erosion of trust between people.

As a Christian, I feel my rage rise when I see the sacred breath of God in one person being used to silence that very breath in another. I find myself frequently astonished by the human capacity to incite anger in one another, to default toward distrust and disbelief, to allow bitterness to fester -- to our own harm. Doubtless, each of us, without much preparation, can name moments when we've witnessed, experienced or even perpetrated such a denial of another's humanity.

While rage in such moments can be justified, it can also rob us of hope and diminish our capacity to engage fruitfully in our relationships, our work and our play.

Recently, in the midst of yet another grueling national media story about women's experiences with sexual violence, author Glennon Doyle asked her social media followers to hold her accountable to being kind in the midst of her rage.