Bitterness

It was a typical night at my place, I was sitting at home on my recliner with the tv on and my feet up. I was comfortably laid out without a worry as to how I looked. Out of a dumb habit, I pulled open my phone to check it and my fingers led me into the black hole that is social media. When I first saw the photo, I felt a prick of fear kind of like when someone says, “I have something I need to talk to you about”. I noticed every detail of the photograph, envying the extravagant beauty, but still unsure as to what concern was stirring within my spirit. I lingered long enough to entice my festering dissatisfaction. Then my eyes fell a little below the photo, upon the plethora of names who interacted with the post. There it was, exactly what concern my spirit was trying to warn me of. It was envy, it was anger, it was the “right to criticize”. I looked up from my phone and noticed just how dark it was in my living room. I adjusted my position, awkwardly realizing how sprawled out I was. For a fraction of a second I felt a flicker of sadness and anger rolled up like sticky bubblegum in my heart. But instead of letting out a good cry or fit of anger, laughter came bursting from within. It was a guttural laugh, one that filled my living room. Only it wasn’t the kind of laugh that lightens a room, like the laugh of freedom would. It was the laugh of bitterness; pridefully reverberating power but echoing my well hidden brokenness.

This cocktail of past hurt, remaining guilt, and deep loneliness burned my insides. I shriveled in my chair, with my knees close to my belly and arms across my heart- now completely aware of how dark, empty, and sad this room felt. Again, shoving this real emotional response aside, I whispered grumblings of how I shouldn’t be surprised.

Today, I honestly don’t remember much about the photo I saw, the plethora of names trailing behind it, or anything else related to that one moment. Those were mere footprints leading up to the beast I actually needed to deal with. I was angry. I felt like God let me get hurt and then left me alone to put myself back together. I made a risky move that left everything I knew, lost my close community, broke off my long term relationship, and I ventured into the unknown alone. I crumbled when I began seeing the posts showing my friends enjoying the things we once all did together. I felt miserably alone and it didn’t seem fair. I lost everything, and my once- significant- other got to stay enjoying the community we built together. I didn’t yet have confidence in my own growth through the process, and all I heard from the Spirit was radio silence. So instead, I let my pride dig a hole of self pity for me to sit in.

“Up from behind a sand dune close beside her rose the form of her enemy Bitterness. He did not come any nearer, having learned a little more prudence, and was not going to make her call for the Shepherd if he could avoid it, but simply stood and looked at her and laughed and laughed again, the bitterest sound that Much-Afraid had heard in all her life.”

― Hannah Hurnard, Hinds' Feet on High Places

Bitterness was waiting close by, just waiting to show up for a moment just like this one. So with this, I gave into that bitter laughter, which was only a defense to cover myself with from the flaming darts of pain and self doubt. I was too fearful to enter back into grief. My need to be strong and righteous overshadowed the humility I needed to lay my emotions before Jesus. Unknowingly, I nurtured my hurt into bitterness instead of surrendering it to my God.

If you are walking with Jesus, then you probably know this pattern we get into. Our fear of being known keeps us from healing. We hide instead of standing out in the light, it all started in the Garden. If we had the courage to be in the light, then we’d receive the very covering we yearn for. We’re not hidden by the darkness, we are lost in it.

My eyes were blinded by these ideals that I held up as gospel. The need to be understood, the grace of being comforted, and my hope for restoration. The community I once lived with and worked alongside was far from me, and they were living the life I so deeply missed. It was painful and I felt isolated. I made a choice to hide in bitterness, and the bitterness I felt for being alone made it difficult to see how God was moving through my new beginning. All the while, I was ignorant to the beautiful evidences of growth and healing. The courage to stand in the light would’ve illuminated these aspects. My concerns, although pure-hearted in my approach, were focused on the wrong thing. I didn’t need to be concerned with knowing how Jesus was working this together for my good, I just needed to know that He was.

What part of your life needs some light?