The Testimony Of Bitterness

 

My church recently preached on Ephesians 4:25-32. As we came towards the end of the sermon, we pressed in on what it means to grieve the Holy Spirit, on some specific sins listed, and on the bitterness in which so many of them are rooted. My pastor asked us to pray specifically, asking God to reveal bitterness, soften our hearts towards confession, and root it out. 

As I prayed, I went through the names of those I know my heart has been bitter towards at various times and asked God to reveal anyone else my heart was bitter towards, and I was grateful not to detect any bitterness. But I began to think about the testimony of bitterness. 

 

Bitterness can be a cover for our other emotions, an easier out than dealing with the pain inside of us, but it can also be our witness. Something we share with others and ask them to believe in. 

I thought of the deep wounds a friend left me with, the way I blamed her for the destruction in my heart that came out in response, and the validation of a new friend calling her a disparaging name to me. A dear friend justifying my hurt, caring about my pain, and being protective of me towards the person who hurt me. But as I looked back in this moment, I saw how I had made a friend of mine bitter towards another woman she had never even met and would never cross paths with (and maybe those facts actually made it seem more harmless than it was). I saw my selfishness in wanting support more than I wanted goodness and how my insecurity sought to bring down the one who brought me down that I might grasp some level of self-worth. I see how I wielded my pain as a weapon against the very people who loved me most, tempting them towards my bitterness and calling it care. 

I thought of the anger that rose up in me after my friend’s death at the perception that others were treating her loss cavalierly. I saw how it was easier to become bigger than it was to face the pain of loss for myself. And no matter how short lived that feeling was, I made it a testimony by sharing it with others. By receiving their validation. And even if I wasn’t trying to, by cultivating that bitterness in them. Passing my problem with someone onto them in their desire to support me (even as I prayed that God would remove that bitterness from me) instead of bringing it first to God. 

We talked today about how the church has justified a culture of bitterness, and it makes sense because that’s the way the world shows care. And we have to be careful that the influences of the world do not distort how we show care to others. Too often in our attempts to support one another and show empathy for their pain, we have fed their bitterness, made space for their bitterness, and taken that bitterness for ourselves in solidarity. But true compassion and empathy do not feed the destruction of a friend; rather, they comfort and they help liberate. They sit in the pain and draw out the real sorrow instead of allowing us to get lost in the cloak of bitterness. 

Why are we bitter? What pain is being addressed? What injustice? What is the bitterness keeping us from confronting? What do we need to process to let our bitterness go? 

 

Where have we allowed our bitterness to spread? To encourage its spread by giving voice to it where we've known it would be accepted? And once bitterness takes root, it steeps us in its perspective, coloring our lives with its agony.

 

Even small moments of bitterness can be a witness to those I share it with. My pastor mentioned how even individual sins can affect the whole, and it's realizations like these that make that truth so apparent. And bitterness is not what I want to testify to the hearts around me. I want freedom for my friends, not to trap them in the darkness with me. 

 

Bitterness is easy to get lost in. It offers us protection. It feels justified, especially when real injustice was done. And when the pain was great or when we're too deeply steeped in it, it feels impossible to get out of the clutches of bitterness. Letting it go feels so insurmountable that it's not even worth the attempt. But the good news, friends, is we have a God who moves mountains. Who consistently does the impossible. Who breeds life in desolate places. If the work seems too great, give it to Him. Invite Him in and ask Him to move in His strength where ours is too weak. He can do incredible things, and He wants you free.