we might call frustration or offense but which in reality is bitterness, and hopefully to provide a way for you and others to find forgiveness and freedom.
Bitterness is more than a state of being. It’s a perspective that not only reflects all that we’ve been through in the past, but colors all that we see in the future. We identify it more easily in others than ourselves—we may even deny it to ourselves—but it is real and far more pervasive than we care to recognize. We may hate it, but offense is something that we all have to deal with through all the seasons of our life. Let it seat itself deeply into your soul, and you’ll find it not only produces bitterness against the original insult and offender, but also threads its resentful spirit into many other relationships in your life.
Relational problems are messy, and they are very rarely one-sided. History doesn’t show us a series of problems that started, festered, and ended in the heart of one soul. My life is typically easy and relaxed until I have to interact with others! This was the reason Jesus often talked about relationships with others. He fully knew that we could live with a residue of bitterness for years, and we might not even realize it; but living life alongside others will bring it to the surface very quickly. Additionally, relationships are complex, and it’s not unusual for two people to be in contention due to the completely different angles, family systems, and belief structures they come from. What drives one person crazy does not bother another, and vice versa, yet they’re making each other completely nuts with their differing views on life and how to walk through it. We must realize relational problems are never one-sided.
If you bought this book thinking of someone else, put them out of your mind. If you were hoping to fix someone with the insights you will glean here, adjust your expectations. What I am about to share has little value when applied to someone else. You must first apply it to yourself. I know, because it’s when I have applied it in my own life that I find great freedom as I interact with others.
Through my work as a pastoral counselor, I have watched people struggle with relational injuries day in and day out for the past thirty-three years. Some may even admit they carry offense and unforgiveness, but recognizing the problem and addressing the problem are two separate things. Most people simply can’t let go of their offended heart, so they trudge through life as if dragging a parachute into the wind. They are not the first people in history to do so.
The Offense of Cain
Many of us know the Sunday-school version of Cain and Abel’s story in Genesis 4. What people perhaps have not seen is that this is a perfect lesson in the anatomy of bitterness and gives us great insight in learning how to deal with an offense. Cain watches as the Lord rejects his offering. To make it worse, his younger brother, Abel, is respected by the Lord, and Abel’s offering is accepted. In a fit of rage, Cain murders his brother—but not before the Lord interrupts Cain to have a few words with him.
In a few short verses, God lays out a wise response when dealing with injustice or disappointment, whether perceived or real. God told Cain about the consequences that would follow, should Cain fail to heed this very personal warning. Cain obviously did not heed the counsel that the Lord gave him, and the consequences of his bitterness were literally deadly. The offense in his heart led to the first murder that humanity had known. We shall come back to this story throughout the following chapters and see the wisdom that God gave about how to escape the clutches of this enemy of the heart.
As we start this journey into better understanding this problem, I want you to give yourself permission to ask, “How does this apply to me?” Everybody deals with disappointment in some fashion, somewhere along the journey of life. Let me give you a few examples of events that might have happened in your life that were challenging to get over. Perhaps you feel you didn’t get the recognition you deserved in the workplace or the chance that everyone else had. It could be that your legitimate accomplishments were ignored or even mocked throughout your education. Perhaps you were overlooked for a ministry or church assignment due to poor leadership over you. Maybe someone who you had been very vulnerable with chose to use that information against you. Perhaps they lied to you; perhaps they defrauded you of money or opportunity, and as a result unrighteousness seemed to win in the moment. Perhaps you are dealing with family dysfunction and relational breakdown due to sin or sickness. Or, as with the case of Cain and Abel, someone actually died and you cannot bring yourself to forgive the one whom you believe is the perpetrator.
You tell your friends that it’s okay and you’re over it, but you think about it a lot more than you wish. Three weeks, six months, even years later, when you get near a similar situation, you are awash with emotions and frustrations that you have stuffed away for years, but are unable to pinpoint exactly why you’re upset.
We all deal with injustice and disappointment—from the deeply painful to the seemingly mundane. The injustices of life are not easily answered. This book is about how we handle the injustices, how we choose to navigate our hearts through the midst of them, and how we live free from their sting.
1
My Story
My journey was one of many ups and downs. I grew up a daughter of an Olympic boxer who later became a Golden Gloves champion. My father, Bobby Bickle, was a hero at the neighborhood’s corner bar. He told stories of his “glory days” as he bought drinks for all around. He was a man who wanted many sons and ended up with five girls and two boys. My sweet momma had six of us under the age of five when she was just twenty-four years old.
I was three years old when my father retired from his boxing career and became a professional house painter to support the family. My mother joined him. As the sixth of seven children, I was left much of the time to be raised by the “older” siblings in my family. Looking back, I can testify that nine- and ten-year-olds do not make the best of parents. Dad spent much of his free time training the boys to become athletes. We girls were encouraged to cheer them on. Our family moved around often in my childhood, which trained us young in the art of making friends.
Growing up in a large family had many good aspects but also brought its challenges. As our family aged, the stresses on my parents increased both emotionally and financially. One of the ways they chose to cope was to begin drinking alcohol, and they both soon became alcoholics. That left them with even less emotional energy to give toward parenting me. Their inability to give appropriate guidance marked me early in life, nor were they able to protect me as they should have. When I was still a young girl in my formative years a friend’s father sexually abused me. It was a secret I kept for many years to come. I thought I had done something wrong. It wasn’t until years later when I went into counseling that I realized it was not my fault—I was a victim, and the abuse had marked me with lies about myself.
When I was fourteen, my brother Pat broke his neck playing in a high school football game and became a quadriplegic. What little semblance of order we had in the household vanished. We lived in and out of hospitals. This added even more strain on our family system and financial well-being. I was left as a young teenager to figure out life alone, as my parents were understandably consumed with making sure Pat was well cared for, which became a full-time job. After that, I don’t remember a single conversation with my parents about my life, school, friends, situations I was dealing with, or any other normal things teenagers speak to their parents about. Our lives were going full tilt, and nothing was to ever be normal again.
Eight months after Pat’s injury, my father passed away in his sleep. The trauma on my little heart only increased. My sweet momma was left to navigate life alone with seven children, one of them a quadriplegic. Her broken heart was too much even for her, and she had no support system. Her drinking escalated. She spent much of her spare time in the bars, which is where she met her future husband.
My stepfather lacked the skill set to step into a family
