Hope For The Bitter Heart

8/1/2025

The last several months, I have had to watch and walk alongside someone I love dearly as they go through a prolonged season of hurt, discouragement, and difficulty. It isn’t as simple as one event or circumstance that has brought about this period of pain, but rather a series of situations that have slowly worn this person down.

Thankfully, they haven’t lost faith, but that doesn’t mean they are not still weighed down by what has become a weighty burden. And it has been made all the harder because there doesn’t seem to be an end or easy answers in sight.

That’s the thing about carrying heavy things — we can do fairly well when the duration of bearing the load is short, or we can see that relief is near.

But when we must hold space in the tension without knowing when it will ever end, we grow weary and discouraged — and perhaps, we may even despair and lose hope altogether.

Scripture teaches us that these seasons are inevitable (John 16:33) and that even in these dark places we are not without God’s sustaining presence and strength (Psalm 23:4). However, these truths are not a magic eraser. It doesn’t make the stress, pain, anxiety, and frustration simply disappear. We still have to walk through the valley and face all of its suffering and struggle.

Furthermore, it is in this place that we face another danger, one beyond the other difficulties we are already facing—prolonged seasons of hardship present to us the very real and perilous temptation to become bitter. And bitterness is a poisonous cancer that, if allowed to, will infect every aspect of our hearts, minds, and lives.

Bitterness poisons our thoughts, emotions, and actions. It leads to cynicism that infects our outlook and relationships. It can cause extreme mental and physical stress and sickness. Bitterness traps us in the past and prevents us from experiencing joy, peace, and grace. Simply put, bitterness kills. And it doesn’t do us the mercy of making it quick. It does it slowly, painfully, and certainly.

I find it very interesting that when Scripture warns us against bitterness, it describes it as a root.

“See to it that no one fails to obtain the grace of God; that no ‘root of bitterness’ springs up and causes trouble, and by it many become defiled” Hebrews 12:15

Where do roots come from? They come from a seed. Whether a small mustard seed or an avocado pit, seeds can vary greatly in size. But when planted, nurtured, and allowed to fully grow, they are tiny when compared to the result — a sturdy trunk, a leafy canopy, fruit, and a network of roots.

I believe that when the author of Hebrews cautions us against the “root of bitterness,” he is warning us about the seed. Without the seed, there can be no root, no tree, and no fruit. If we plant the pain, hurts, and trials in our lives down deep, if we nurture, feed, and water them, then that seed of bitterness will sprout roots. Over time, those roots will spread underground undetected. They will latch and anchor themselves deep in the soil, while also drawing strength and nutrition from it.

Living in a lush, tropical climate for the last few years has taught me much about how strong roots can be and how difficult they can be to fully remove. When we moved into our house, there was a small, potted tree to one side along with some other plants. One day, while my husband and I were doing some yard work, I decided to check out this side of the house. What I found was that this small tree’s roots had broken through the bottom of the plastic pot and burrowed deep into the ground below it. On the surface, this tree was small and looked fairly easy to dislodge and move somewhere else. But its roots were much larger than the tree itself, and no amount of pulling or tugging from either my husband or me could make it budge. In the end, the only way to extract the root was to cut it and dig it out.

Friends, this is what that seed of bitterness you may be planting will do. As we face seasons of trial and hurt, we will find ourselves in possession of seeds of bitterness, and we will be tempted to plant them.

These seeds are subtle and crafty because our pain is real. Circumstances really are too much for you to carry. That person did hurt or betray you. God really did not show up the way you hoped for. You have to live in the chaos.

So, we plant the seed. We push it deep down into the soil of our hearts, where it is safe and covered. We feed it. We water it. We protect it. And, while we are distracted by what is happening on the surface, under the earth, roots are sprouting and plunging to take hold. By the time the tree emerges on the surface, the system of roots is firmly anchored. The once small, seemingly insignificant seed has changed into something far bigger and cannot be so easily removed.

Sometimes bitterness shows itself as anger and resentment. Other times, it can reveal itself as apathy and giving up hope. Whichever form it may take, bitterness ultimately takes the stance that God cannot be trusted. It believes and acts as if He is not good, not sovereign, not loving, gracious, and just. Bitterness dethrones God from the heart and crowns itself as ruler. And its reign is rife with further anxiety, pain, and isolation. And all from a little seed.

So, how do we deal with bitterness? How do we bear up and endure trials without succumbing to the temptation to plant seeds of bitterness? If we have planted them, how do we tear out the roots and find freedom?

Don’t replay the hurts.
Bitterness is planted and grows when we continually repeat and meditate on it by constantly replaying the hurt in our thoughts and/or finding ways to complain about it to others. If we are always meditating on the pain and how unfair it is, then we will most assuredly find ourselves sowing seeds of bitterness.
Do recount the faithfulness of God.
Even in our darkest hours, God is still good, still faithful. We must force our eyes to stay fixed on God during hard times rather than on our circumstances. When Peter took his eyes off of Jesus as he was walking to him on the water during the storm, he quickly sank (Matthew 14:22-33). The storm was not the problem; Peter’s focus was. Jesus was empowering Peter to walk on water in the storm. He was strengthening him and protecting him. But Peter faltered when he put more stock in what was happening around him and took his gaze off of Who was with him. Even in the storm, God is faithful. But we must keep our eyes on Him.
Don’t believe the lie that the wrong done to you is a lesser sin than your failure to trust God.
Sin grieves the heart of God. When people hurt, betray, abandon, or disappoint us, God sees and He cares. However, God also calls us to trust Him fully. I would argue that trust isn’t really trust when everything makes sense. True trust is when we don’t understand and we don’t see a way, but we rest and rely on God anyway. God is always working powerfully on our behalf, even if we cannot see it. He is not caught off guard by our pain, and we can be encouraged by the fact that He will repay evil (Romans 12:19-21). Whatever sin or hurt that has been done to you must be carried by Him, not you. Trust He is with you and is even now working to make all things right.
Do rehearse the Gospel to yourself.
If we want to avoid bitterness or root it out, if need be, then we absolutely must starve it of all pride and selfishness. Rehearsing the Gospel to ourselves is the greatest antidote to the poison of bitterness.

Bitterness says, “I deserve more. I deserve better.”
The Gospel says, “I deserve judgment, but God has given me grace.”

Bitterness says, “I cannot forgive!”
The Gospel says, “How can I not forgive, when I’ve already been pardoned for an unpayable debt?”

Bitterness says, “God doesn’t love me. He doesn’t care.”
The Gospel says, “God loves me so much that He pursued me in my sin and sent His Son to die for me.”

Perhaps you are in a season of prolonged pain and suffering. Maybe you’ve been hurt or forgotten by people you trusted. Maybe you’ve just been experiencing loss after loss, and your soul is crying out for even the tiniest little victory. Every day is a battle to trust God and not plant those seeds of bitterness.

In those moments, cling to the Gospel. You are so loved by a holy, righteous God that He rescued you from your just eternal punishment and placed that penalty on His perfect Son instead. What would ever make us think that this God would now abandon us after all He has done to make us His?

Furthermore, God has the desire and power to restore what is broken and hurting. He can and will turn mourning into dancing and make beauty from the ashes (Isaiah 61:3). Bitterness cannot thrive where grace is already planted. You don’t have to carry your burden on your own. You don’t have to pretend to be fine. But you do have to receive and rely on God’s grace to find hope and freedom.

Over the last several years, the song What’er My God Ordains Is Right has become a cherished song for me, and I sing it to myself often. It reminds me that God is perfectly good, faithful, and loving, no matter what season I find myself in. I pray you will be encouraged by it as I have been.

Whate'er my God ordains is right
His holy will abideth
I will be still whate'er He does
And follow where He guideth
He is my God though dark my road
He holds me that I shall not fall
And so to Him, I leave it all
He holds me that I shall not fall

Whate'er my God ordains is right
He never will deceive me
He leads me by the proper path
I know He will not leave me
I take, content, what He has sent
His hand can turn my griefs away
And patiently, I wait His day
His hand can turn my griefs away

Whate'er my God ordains is right
Though now this cup in drinking
May bitter seem to my faint heart
I take it all, unshrinking
My God is true, each morn anew
Sweet comfort yet shall fill my heart
And pain and sorrow shall depart
Sweet comfort yet shall fill my heart

Whate'er my God ordains is right
Here shall my stand be taken
Though sorrow, need, or death be mine
Yet I am not forsaken

My Father's care is 'round me there
He holds me that I shall not fall
And so to Him, I leave it all
He holds me that I shall not fall