“It is hardly possible to build anything if frustration, bitterness and a mood of helplessness prevail.” —Lech Walesa
Bitterness
It’s a wheel lock, a leaky pen. It’s the hard plastic packaging, bloodying your finger every time.
It’s a jar you can’t open, a box you can’t reach, the bicycle in the driveway you trip over in your haste.
It’s a chain cuffed to your ankle, bill collectors at the door, a snarly guard dog and a sinkhole waiting for its moment.
Bitterness is anger and hurt allowed to deeply root, and smother your joy.
Repair guy
He knocks at the door, eyes filled with sympathy—the guy with the tools. A key, a pencil, some scissors, chain cutters and checkbook, dog treats and wood planks, whatever you need to leave behind this bitter-soaked regret. He knows you will never be whole until you do.
Oh, he sees the scars left untended. He notices the tear-splattered trail of hurt that never sees the sun. He remembers the glittering hopes so cruelly shattered on that day. He tastes your disappointment, your longing for what might have been, what should be now, what can never be again.
He also notices the ways bitterness has been your poorest friend.
Jesus offers his toolbox, “Let it go.”
Let what go?
The other day I pulled some weeds—snakeroot and stinging nettles hiding in the back of the yard, on their way to becoming trees. As I grimly deployed my titanium tool, low-hanging metaphors wrote themselves.
Dig up or leave? It’s hard to decide—especially when I’m in a hurry to judge. Some plants (and people) can fool the eye, appearing to be what they are not. Was that a weed, or merely a struggling flower I just mindlessly tossed away?
Just so, bitter thoughts can muddle our vision, until we can no longer tell enemy from friend. After a while, suspicion becomes our default response, if not outright fear and loathing. Who sits wilting in your mental pile of debris, because bitterness had its way?
I downloaded an app on my phone in order to better discern—a “judgment” app, if you will. I submit a photo, the plant is identified, and the app responds in one of two ways: “considered a weed by gardeners” or “not considered a weed.” Just like that, with the touch of a keypad, a flourishing plant is condemned.
In our divisive culture, the temptation to treat people like invasive foliage is very strong. And equally wrong.
Propaganda teaches us to assume the very worst of others instead of presuming positive intent. Even the mildly irritating are posed as an existential threat. Yet a genuine threat is used as a punchline, clickbait for the easily embittered. When we bow to the golden god of grievance, somebody makes a profit.
It might be a good time to delete the app that allows us to dispose of each other.
An idea
While chatting with a family member, he casually mentioned an old friend, who had hurt him years ago. He summarized the story of their years-long conflict in one simple sentence: “Our friendship wasn’t in a good place at the time.”
Evidently, nothing more needed to be said..
But, that’s not how I (adept at holding grudges) would have described such a painful time. Instead, my inner spreadsheet would be adjusting every column—what he did, what she didn’t do, enemies who ruin things, and friends who can be trusted. Constantly updated data holds the line between them and never them.
But I’ve been pondering his startling words, his generosity of description, and rethinking my approach. I tried simply saying the words aloud,
our friendship our family our marriage our community our country
is badly hurt, is not in a good place at this time, and watched my focus sharpen. I wonder if the simple act of choosing different words could help us change the story. I wonder if we uprooted bitter, our gardens would be better, flourishing with hope and determination to repair what’s sadly broken.
Being just
First, identify any weeds within yourself and your tribe, and fearlessly name and rebuke them. Only then can you be trusted to fight real enemies filled with invasive intent. (See Matthew 7:3-5)
But sometimes, as George Washington Carver famously stated, “a weed is just a flower growing in the wrong place,” and deserves much kinder treatment. Can you think of an example?
When bitterness chokes
Some questions to ponder:
What if the person you perceive as a threat is really an answer to prayer? What if your detailed Photographic evidence Turns out to be a selfie? What is your plan To keep your heart bitterfree Even into old age?
I’d love to hear your answers.
Too many weeds in my own heart! I loved the question about the selfie. Those who frustrate me most are those that are just like me I need time to ponder and reflect.
Janet, this is very rich, in so many ways. Your word choices, the visuals, all of it, thought-provoking.
Thank you!