Bitter

 

 

(Jed walked by when his sister was playing Wii…)

It hurt.

A priceless treasure is taken. That which was most to you, now is gone forever. There is no recompense. There is no filling this void. There is no thing on the earth as precious to you as that, which was taken. Loss has gripped and wrung your heart dry of tears. Stripped of strength, the hurt swells until it cannot be contained. 'Why' can never be answered. And as you shrink down against the wall again to place your head in your hands and weep, your sorrow ferments to anger, and your frustration to blame. Tears become a scowl, and the ache of pain, raised to a flex of furry. Your heart's law demands repayment, as you gaze up at your imagined justice. You shall have it at any cost. Bitterness has gripped your heart.

It hurt.

Slowly the knife of betrayal sunk beneath the shell until it cut to the heart. Shocked by the pain, trembling at the thought, your wound is felt all the more as you realize the one who holds the knife that pierced your soul was the one that you had loved and trusted most of all. Betrayal's vial is poured down from the hands of one beloved, and it has stained your innocence a blood red. Fear overtakes your thoughts of all those you love and trust; for they may be next to pounce. Exhaustingly you gaze in terror of those all about you, closest to your life, for fear that they may have cloaked the next dagger. Trust seems folly, memories of rest in another's arms become foreign and suppressed. Bitterness has gripped your heart.

It hurt.

He was supposed to be the hero. He was the one to look up to. He was the one we could copy, could trust, and could hope in. He was the one that would lead us well and would be spent for our good. It hurt when he failed.

We had climbed in, and lay back, and breathed a sigh of relief, with all our weight down and settled. He was our hammock, and for a short while we rested in him as we basked in the sun in comfort. But he tore. But he dropped us like we were nothing. No longer was I welcomed to bask in comfort within his trust. No longer would I choose to, for fear that I may be bruised again. Never again will I put my weight down like I had before in that man, or in any other, because it hurt so much when I did. Yet I must rest somewhere.

Many weary ones wander life without comfort and rest in the glowing blessings that come with trusting fully. Never resting their soul and never able to trust, not even God, because long ago someone was given the keys to our heart, and sold us out. Bitterness has gripped our hearts.

It hurt.

The agitation, the frustration, poking, and the constant prodding hurt inside. You've had enough, and you can't take it anymore, again and again. You can't believe anyone could ever be so cruel and say such things. Doesn't he feel? Doesn't he know the cringe he causes or the aftertaste of his folly? I refuse to take it anymore, and I will not forgive it again. Bitterness has gripped my heart.

Does the soul bleed? Can it be wounded or sick or poisoned? Can it be cured or mended? Can a person's soul be beaten near death, and yet their outside remain a false face of contentment?

We've all be hurt and gone on wounded inside while nobody would guess from the outside. Everyone gets hurt, but not everyone gets bitter.

Drop an apple on the floor, and you will damage it. Leave it a while and find a bruise beneath the damage. But leave it too long, and the bitterness of the wound will destroy the whole of the fruit. Now place that rotten bitter apple in the basket with others and you will reap the benefits of bitterness. In the end, many will be ruined by that one bitter fruit.

Is that you? Do you bleed out destruction from an old wound you didn't ask for, and cannot fix? People differ from the old bruised apple in that we can heal. We are like prisoners that hold the keys to our own cell, and release papers signed and ready. We are our own wardens. We take bruise to bitter, and damage to destruction when we proclaim ourselves in the place of God, able to condemn and never to forgive the one who hurt us. Aren't you glad He doesn't hold you to your standard? Aren't you glad He doesn't ask you to pay for the wounds you gave Him? If He were as swift to judgment as you, none would yet stand to be judged.

Has bitterness gripped your heart like the boa his prey? You need simply forgive, fully and totally, and you shall be rid of your bitter prison. Pour humility upon the wound and you will find it heals quite well, but douse the flames of bitterness in the fuel of pride and you will burn yourself to the ground. Just let it go, and free yourself from the grip of bitterness upon your heart.

 

“Follow peace with all men, and holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord: Looking diligently lest any man fail of the grace of God; lest any root of bitterness springing up trouble you, and thereby many be defiled;” – Heb 12:14-15

 

(Prayer... Nuff said.)