"Letting Go of Bitterness" | November 23, 2025 | Ps Joel Lowery

There's something profoundly beautiful about simplicity - a quiet acoustic set instead of the full electric band, a heartfelt whispered prayer instead of elaborate words. Sometimes when we strip away the noise and complexity, we discover the most powerful truths waiting for us in the stillness.

As we journey through life, we accumulate things. Our homes fill with possessions. Our schedules overflow with commitments. But perhaps most dangerously, our hearts collect invisible baggage - weights we were never meant to carry. Among these burdens, few are as destructive and deceptive as bitterness.

The Seed That Becomes a Root

Bitterness doesn't announce its arrival with fanfare. It begins as something small - a seed of offense. Someone doesn't return your greeting. A text goes unanswered despite the read receipt confirming they saw it. A family member offers unsolicited criticism about your parenting, your career choices, or your life decisions. A boss takes advantage of your loyalty. A friend betrays your trust.

These seeds of offense are everywhere, scattered like dandelion seeds on the wind. You don't have to plant them intentionally - they simply land on the soil of your heart. And if you've ever tried to maintain a lawn, you know the frustrating truth: the good things require intentional cultivation, while the destructive things seem to grow effortlessly.

The writer of Hebrews understood this danger well: "See to it that no one falls short of the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many" (Hebrews 12:15).

Notice the imagery - a root. Roots grow underground, hidden from view. By the time you see the flower above ground, an extensive root system has already taken hold beneath the surface. This is the insidious nature of bitterness. It lurks, it spreads, and often we don't even realize it's growing until it has thoroughly entangled our hearts.

The Dangerous Fruit of Bitterness

While love "keeps no record of wrongs" (1 Corinthians 13:5), bitterness maintains meticulous accounts. It remembers every detail, every slight, every injustice. It replays conversations in your mind at 2 AM - never the grateful, peaceful thoughts, but always the rumination on what was said, what was done, how you were wronged.

And here's the truly dangerous part: bitterness never stays contained. The passage in Hebrews warns that this bitter root will "cause trouble and defile many." One dandelion produces hundreds of seeds. One bitter person can poison an entire workplace, divide a family, or fracture a community.

Think about that person whose bitterness makes everyone around them miserable. Perhaps it's the coworker who constantly complains about corporate greed, the family member who sows distrust at every gathering, or the individual whose negativity drains the energy from every room they enter.

Before we point fingers, though, we must recognize a sobering truth: bitterness is one of the most difficult sins to see in ourselves. Why? Because when we're bitter, we feel *justified*. We tell ourselves, "I'm not bitter - I'm just responding to injustice. If you experienced what I experienced, you'd understand. I'm not the problem; they are."

The Mirror of Self-Examination

This calls for honest self-reflection. Do you have a root of bitterness growing beneath the surface of your life? Are you holding a grudge? Nursing an offense? Rehearsing past hurts in your mind?

The holidays often amplify what's already in our hearts. When relationships are healthy, the season feels magical. But when there's family tension, relational wounds, or unresolved disappointments, these gatherings can feel like emotional torture.

Perhaps you're already dreading seeing that one relative who always brings up politics, or the parent who constantly criticizes your choices, or the sibling whose very presence reminds you of past betrayals.

But here's the good news that can change everything: you don't have to remain enslaved to bitterness. You have the power, through the gospel, to kill this root.

The Prescription for Freedom

The Apostle Paul, writing to believers in Ephesus, didn't simply command them to "get rid of all bitterness" without providing a path forward. He prescribed two essential ingredients that, when combined, create a powerful remedy.

First: Compassion

"Be kind and compassionate to one another" (Ephesians 4:32). This feels completely counterintuitive when you're carrying offense. The last thing you want to do is show kindness to someone who hurt you. Acting nice can feel fake, inauthentic.

But Jesus showed us a way to practice genuine compassion even when our feelings haven't caught up: "Bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you" (Luke 6:28).

Your prayer may or may not change them, but it will always change you.

That first prayer might come through gritted teeth. It might feel more like venting to God than blessing your offender. But keep praying. Do the reps. Write that angry email - then delete it before adding a recipient. Process your feelings honestly before God, then pray again. And again.

Gradually, imperceptibly, something shifts. Your heart begins to soften. Your priorities realign. You start to realize that whatever you're fighting over isn't worth the cost to your own soul.

Second: Forgiveness

This is where the tension becomes most acute. "Forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you" (Ephesians 4:32).

Some offenses feel unforgivable. The wound cuts too deep. The betrayal was too severe. The injustice too great.

But consider this metaphor: When someone wrongs you, you're given a trump card in that relationship - the ace of spades. You have every right to play it, to call them out, to expose their wrongdoing, to make them pay. You hold the power.

Forgiveness is choosing to lay down that card. It's recognizing that holding onto it gives you only an illusion of control while actually keeping you imprisoned.

The Parable That Shakes Us

Jesus told a powerful story about a king who forgave a servant's massive debt - millions of dollars. That forgiven servant then found a fellow servant who owed him a small amount and refused to show the same mercy, demanding full payment.

When the king discovered this, he was furious: "You evil servant! I forgave you that tremendous debt because you pleaded with me. Shouldn't you have mercy on your fellow servant, just as I had mercy on you?" (Matthew 18:32-33).

Then comes the sobering conclusion: "That's what my heavenly Father will do to you if you refuse to forgive your brothers and sisters from your heart" (Matthew 18:35).

This isn't about a vengeful God eager to punish. It's about a loving Father who knows that unforgiveness leads to emotional and spiritual torture. He desperately wants us free.

The Path to Freedom

You cannot control what others do - their words, their actions, their choices. But you can control how you respond.

Living with bitterness is choosing to remain in prison while holding the key to your own cell. It's being emotionally tortured over something that happened in the past, replaying it endlessly, allowing it to poison your present and future.

Some struggle with unforgiveness toward other people. Others wrestle with something even more complex - unforgiveness toward God. Perhaps you experienced a devastating disappointment. You prayed for something that didn't happen. You trusted God to protect you, and you felt abandoned. The bottom fell out of your hopes.

This too must be surrendered.

Traveling Light

The invitation is clear: lay down the weight. Pull out the root before it spreads further. Stop rehearsing the offense. Release the trump card you've been clutching.

This doesn't mean what happened was okay. It doesn't mean there shouldn't be consequences or boundaries. It doesn't mean you're weak or foolish.

It means you're choosing freedom over bondage, peace over turmoil, the future over the past.

When you finally pull a dandelion out by its complete root, there's a satisfying sense of victory - like when the entire crab leg slides out of its shell in one perfect piece. That's the freedom waiting on the other side of forgiveness.

The journey ahead requires you to travel light. You can't run the race marked out for you while carrying bags full of bitterness, resentment, and unforgiveness.

So take inventory. What are you carrying that you were never meant to hold? Who do you need to forgive? What offense do you need to surrender?

The path to freedom begins with a simple prayer: "Come, Holy Spirit. Show me what I'm holding onto. Give me the courage to let it go."