“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.” [Hebrews 12;15.]
In these days of the Covid, political treachery, liberal insanity, societal chaos and dysfunction, moral corruption, and the unraveling of families and relationships, there has never been a time in which even saved people are so prone to confusion, fearfulness, frustration, and resentment. All the above can be preliminary to something called "bitterness." Its effect in its course of development does to the soul what hypertension does to the body. Spiritually, it is the "silent killer," just as uncontrolled high blood pressure is a killer to the body. Bitterness always "kills" your peace, joy, service, and testimony.
Moreover, bitterness is very easy to hide, disguise, and deny. But it has an added danger of defiling many others who are not its primary victims. Many Christians smile, attend church, and carry a bible, but in their heart, they are consumed and defeated by this "silent killer."
Bitterness is something that every mature, spiritual, and faithful parent, preacher, and church leader is in danger of infection. The bottom line is that it is only the sacrifice of Christ at Calvary that enables us to escape the awful curse of a bitter spirit and, thereby, not defile others with us.
I have learned that no matter what anyone says about sorrow and grief and "time healing all wounds," the truth is this. Certain sorrows never fade away until the heart stops beating, and the last breath is taken.
[I wrote the following from Exodus 15:22-25 many years ago. This "poem" is when our merciful God remembered me and restored me after my whole world had crumbled.]
Memories
Her bitter taunts will not be still,
The words more mocking grow.
She knows what brings the deepest pain,
No mercy does she show.
At night she comes when blackness rules,
In her hands the tempting cup
My mouth is parched, but I dare not drink
From her dark and putrid thoughts.
But she smiles and invites me, “Take your fill.”
As I cringe, the cup draws near.
I tell her “No,” as sweat drops cold,
And my heart is pounding fear.
But then I drink and swallow deep.
My thirst I can’t restrain.
And the bitter thoughts that deadens soul
Are no worse than this present pain.
When morning dawns, Marah slips away,
And fades with empty cup.
To fill it new from the sullen stream
And again, will bid me sup.
So on I grope with weary step,
I must flee this bitter stream.
I beg, “Dear God, is there no balm,
That may make these waters clean?”
And then I find her broken cup
Beside the blood-stained tree.
The memories crushed beneath the branch
That now lies in Marah’s stream.
Her voice no more calls out to me
Her cup no more I share.
I stoop and drink the water sweet
My thirst is no longer there.
By WEN- [on Exodus 15:22-25]
Very good