Why Being Bitter Was The Bravest Thing I've Ever Done

When you grow up in the world I grew up in, feeling emotions, let alone negative emotions, was a tricky process. Concentrating solely on the positive was something that was deeply engrained into us from the beginning. Things like feeling discontent were considered sin and needed to be repentented of as such. That being the case, common was the ability to stop negative emotions in their tracks, forcing ourselves as Saints to think on "things from above." I strongly remember the scripture verse about "laying up treasure in heaven" as a way to say that dwelling on earthly problems was wrong and should be avoided. Sometimes, too, was the teachings that this also applied to mental health struggles such as anxiety and depression, suggesting that they in fact did not exsist and were a spiritual falling away.

Of the many teachings in the Independent Fundamental Baptist world, the teaching of bitterness was one that I and other survivors of the movement have found, for a lack of a better word, damaging. The word "bitter" and phrases like, "you're just bitter" were often carelessly thrown around, sometimes in reference to pointless disagreements, but also in response to hurtful experiences and even in cases of extreme abuse. I haven't met one Independent Baptist—former or current—who isn't aware of this particular teaching. Its usage most likely depended on the intentions of the person using it, but in essence, generally, was used to either judge or silence another.

Growing up in the Church, I knew from a young age that I was to avoid this spiritual failing of bitterness and I alone was the sole party responsible for that. The actions of others really didn't play a part in the dilemma; I had not just the power through the Holy Spirit, but the responsibility to overcome it, regardless of the reasons that prompted that bitter emotion in the first place. Some may point out here that dwelling on the negative is a negative thing in and of itself. And I would say I agree, but to a point.

I want to explain that for a moment.

Common with embracing this particular teaching is also the denial that can accompany it. There's the denial by others that the experience(s) leading to the emotion is indeed "unworthy" of such a reaction; and then, there can even be the denial by those that are wrestling with it to choose to shutdown their emotions altogether and not take into account if any such emotion is warranted. I know that in my case, it wasn't uncommon to shutdown all emotions in order to prevent the "sin" of discontentment and bitterness. This is incredibly dangerous because it neglects to acknowledge important human feelings that can actually be alarm bells sounding once mistreatment occurs. Being in this denial is not the person's fault, however. These harmful teachings being taught to believers could be considered a sort of grooming and even an element of spiritual abuse. Grooming in the sense that children and new believers are taught to start practicing ways to stop negative emotions in their tracks from the beginning that can potentially dismiss mistreatment; and spiritually abusive because they are led to believe God would want that. It leaves a hurting person to assume that not only an all powerful being demands that they suffer, but they should do so in silence. 

I have lost count of how many times that I have had people accuse me of being "bitter" or having "bitterness in my heart" towards wrongs and the people behind them. Many times, the mere word or assumption by others would cut deeply and create another wound, adding to the pain. It always silenced me and left me with that same pain and carrying its burden alone. I felt dismissed and invalidated, misunderstood and shamed. I was left to believe that I was the burden; that my pain was inconvenient. That experiencing hurt was my sin. That I was responsible for it.

I think furthering adding to this is that so many perceive a person speaking up, putting words to pain, as holding a grudge or even having an "ax to grind." Silent pain does not mean there's no pain present. Being quiet no more stops it, than ducking and dodging by one erases a thrown punch by another. The action, the harm still occurred. Validating it acknowledges that that is the case.

As a survivor of abuse, the word bitterness also comes along with vivid memories of victim shaming even from childhood. It also conjures up past moments where grief was told to be wrong and scolding to "get over" that grief. In my early adult years, I had found ways to perfect how to "suck it up" and push through the pain. And although in those moments I accomplished my goal of pushing through and ignoring it, swearing not to be bitter, the pain still caught up with me, because it never stopped.

In order to be a good IFB you shouldn't ask why—not of God, not of your leaders, your parents, or those that are hurting you. In order to acknowledge and then feel the pain, in my case, I had to ask why. I had to sit with that pain and I had to listen to what negative emotions I was feeling. I had to risk bitterness. I had to risk "sinning." Why? Because if I didn't it would still eat me up; because denial only protects you but for so long. I became bitter in order to be better. I'm still getting better.

Like many things, the very definition of bitterness was taught wrong to me. The word was misused and hurled at hurting people to hurt them further. It was used to shut them up and shut their concerns down. I never realized that the actual definition truly included the fact that mistreatment had to occur first. People don't just become "bitter;" IFB made it seem petty.

I think more than anything though the problem lies in demanding people not feel certain things. That one person, based on one harmful teaching, feel they have the right to dictate emotions or command their followers to react a certain allowed way and only that way. That choice is removed from one human by another human. All those things are wrong and only hurt people more. It's abusive and an injustice.

If you are one that has had that accusation of being bitter thrown at you, know I grieve with you. I grieve with you over what that feels like and the new wound it's caused. I grieve with you as you process the mistreatment that you have been forced to endure in the first place. And I stand with you as you speak up, whether loudly to others or whispering the words aloud for only you to hear.

For those that are tempted to quickly respond to someone that acknowledges their pain aloud with, "You're bitter," realize that for that to be said truthfully you must also acknowledge that mistreatment has occured. You may mean to hurt them further or even silence them, but you are admitting that they have reason to feel hurt in the first place.

There are days that the word bitterness still catches me, still triggers and wounds me when it is used harshly in response to my experiences. I now understand that's okay. Not okay that it was said, but that I felt hurt. Although it was taught negatively, for me, it doesn't have to remain a negative thing. On some days, I'm able to use it as validation. Regardless, I know I'm moving forward—not "on," but taking a step toward healing. And that's the bravest thing I've done. If bitterness has anything to do with it, then I thank it.


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