Friday, September 28, 2012

Bitterness


Our conversation was a serious one. We were discussing intense issues. She listens well and she converses with great wisdom for one so young, so when the words slid out of her mouth I almost did not catch them. Two sentences later I realized that my youngest daughter’s words had been spoken to me.


Me.


Her words pinched. She did not mean for them to do so. I had made a statement, commenting on another situation, and she applied them to me.

I hear some bitterness in that statement.

Those are the words she said to me.

They were couched in a half-joking tone. But they stopped me. My gut reaction was surely not? I kept thinking of her observation; I was appalled by the maybe-truth of it and pricked by her honest candor.

When I tried to pull her words from the ground soil of my heart—they resisted. There were roots of truth there I had to acknowledge. An undetected shoot sent into the deep places of my heart.

At first, I thought she can not be right. I have let go of bitterness; I dug those roots up long ago. And I know about roots. I know how deep they can descend and how much dirt, soil and earth can be disturbed, turned and moved when you pull the root up and out.

I know.

I have pulled up a lot of bitter roots. Some were shallow, only in the surface soil. Some had only one long tap root and slid straight out of the dirt. Several, however, were so deep I sat down on my backside with the pulling.

Sometimes even now when I am ready to plant something new—excavating a deep depression to accommodate a new variety —I will find a root left behind from the last digging. I can see where the root has been cleaved by a shovel in an attempt to remove it. But it remained.

Bitterness goes deep.

My daughter’s words were said as a simple observation, but the Spirit used them to prick me gently. Just enough for one drop of blood to blister to the surface—enough to remind me that a root of bitterness can grieve the heart of God.

Bitterness has no place in the heart of a Christ-follower. Bitterness impedes the working grace of the Spirit. Bitterness’ dormancy seems benign, but its root and tendrils must be exposed and removed because bitterness and grace will not co-exist.

The prick and the blister woke me.

The convex curve of that dark red drop caused me to examine the residual roots in the soil of myself. That dark red drop has become the curved back of the shovel I need to use.

At least it is raining today--the soil will be moist and soft. And my garden gloves are in the laundry room.

























4 comments:

Piper said...

I know it must have struck you... I too have times where my older children half jokingly call me out. And I too, begin to search my heart. I am their mother I should be teaching them things of the ways of walking uprightly.....and then is when I realize, God works on their hearts and teaches them things that sometimes are far above what is in my heart. I think two things, I need to be more careful in my witness, yet, they also need to see that I,"Mom" mess up and need the forgiveness for my sins as well. Thank you for pointing out what I need to work on.

Cassandre said...

ntRings
Out of the mouth of babes...our children are often given insites to our hearts..is it frightening that they can see things we think are hidden..absolutely. Trade their wisdom I would not. Love to you.

Cassandre said...

By the way, I blog with the same place, it is called, A Safe Place
http://mamacassasafeplace.blogspot.com/

Cedric said...

Nice post! I am writing because I'm a fan of your pages. Sometimes I also would write something to commemorate the happy moment. But it is a long time i did not write for now i am busy in my work. I am working in a pearl bracelets company.In collage, I major in English Teaching so it has some diffilut in this field: pearl gift. Tank you again.