Why Bitterness Steals Your Worth - and How to Reclaim It with Faith

I was reminded that “holding onto bitterness is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die." 

Last week I confessed that I didn’t think I was bitter until I saw how often my heart replayed old injuries and would silently argue my case over and over. And I connected bitterness to an “anti-mattering” story: “I was treated like I didn’t count, so I guess I don’t.”

To my surprise, I found I am not the only Christ Follower who struggles with bitterness.  Many of you let me know how you have spent years and years fighting bitterness.

So how do we actually get through bitterness?

For me, it was a wake-up call when I realized that trying harder to be pleasant as a Christ Follower simply doesn’t work. The fact is that when you least expect it, bitterness creeps up on you and absolutely nails you.  So I had to learn the hard way that bitterness isn’t a mood, it’s a root. And roots don’t respond to pep talks. They respond to cultivation.

That’s why Galatians 5:22–23 in The Message is such a picture of hope:

“But what happens when we live God’s way? He brings gifts into our lives, much the same way that fruit appears in an orchard—things like affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity. We develop a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people. We find ourselves involved in loyal commitments, not needing to force our way in life, able to marshal and direct our energies wisely.”

That’s the orchard on the other side of bitterness.

Notice what Paul doesn’t say. He doesn’t say, “Try really hard to manufacture affection, joy, and self-control.” In other words, fruit can’t be stapled onto a branch. Fruit grows when the tree is rooted in the right soil and fed the right nutrients. Hebrews 12:15 calls bitterness a “root” because it spreads underground before it shows up in your tone, your leadership, and your marriage.

The research world that I live in actually has a name for what many of us experience: embitterment. It’s a stress reaction to perceived injustice. Something happens that violates your sense of what should be right, and then the mind starts looping: the “replay” begins. Intrusive thoughts. Rumination. Helplessness. Emotional spikes when the memory resurfaces. The replay is one of the main ways bitterness keeps doing damage.

And here’s what makes it more complicated: bitterness doesn’t just make you mad. It slowly erodes your sense of mattering. When you’ve been hurt or overlooked, you start drawing conclusions about your significance. You withdraw. You brace. You protect. And the anti-mattering story gets louder.

So if rehearsal waters the root, what practices help us stop watering it and start cultivating the Spirit’s fruit?

1) Name the wound without marrying the narrative.

Bitterness usually begins with something real like a betrayal, rejection, humiliation, or being dismissed. The pain may be legitimate, but bitterness adds a conclusion that becomes identity. It leads us to say,  “This always happens to me.” “This proves I don’t matter.”

In response, try this prayer: “Jesus, here’s what happened and here’s what I lost. Here’s what I’ve been concluding about me, and about You.” Then ask, “What is true about me in Your Kingdom—even if what happened to me was wrong?”

You can acknowledge the wound without adopting a false identity.

2) Interrupt the rehearsal.

If you’re like me, you don’t just remember the moment you were hurt—you re-run it, revise it, and re-argue the case in your head. That mental courtroom feels productive but it isn’t. It’s discipleship in reverse.

So for the next seven days, practice this interruption. The next time you feel your mind wanting to revisit that hurt:

• Catch it: “I’m rehearsing this hurt again.”

• Label it: “This is bitterness trying to matter.”

• Hand it over: “Jesus, I release my right to keep replaying this.”

• Redirect: do one small act of obedience in the present—pray, send encouragement, open Scripture.

By doing this, you’re not pretending you haven’t been hurt. Instead, you’re refusing to let the wound drive the car.

3) Rebuild mattering the way Jesus rebuilds it.

Research on mattering is clear: believing you are significant is protective. Feeling like you don’t matter fuels loneliness, depression, and withdrawal. And here’s the paradox and a reason to be careful: sometimes the “support” we seek in our loneliness just reinforces the grievance. We gather allies who, rather than helping lead us to the truth, simply agree we were wronged, allowing the roots to grow deeper.

So rebuild wisely:

• Tell the truth to one safe, spiritually mature person who won’t just validate your pain but will point you to Jesus.

• Step back into meaningful contribution—serve, encourage, mentor.

• Let God’s voice be the loudest one in the room: in Christ, you are not forgotten, not discarded, not irrelevant.

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4) Practice forgiveness as spiritual surgery.

Ephesians 4:31–32 puts it bluntly: get rid of bitterness—and replace it with kindness, compassion, and forgiveness. Why?  Because Christ forgave you.

Forgiveness is not excusing harm. It’s not pretending trust is automatic. It’s not removing wise boundaries. Forgiveness is refusing to let the injury become your identity and your future.

A prayer of blessing I’m learning (slowly) is this: “Jesus, do good to them, and do surgery in me.”

And this is where Galatians 5 becomes more than a verse. When bitterness loosens its grip, the Spirit doesn’t leave you empty. He fills the space. Affection replaces suspicion. Serenity quiets the inner argument. Compassion softens the edge. Loyal commitments form without being forced. Energy gets directed wisely instead of being drained by constant replay.

That’s the reward. Not a pain-free memory, but a new kind of person.

So here’s your Sunday cultivation:

Name one root of bitterness. Interrupt one replay. Serve one person in need. Bless one difficult person. Then watch what God grows in the orchard of your life.

Tell me—what root are you naming this week, and what fruit are you asking God to grow?

P.S. If you have a comment or prayer request, contact me here: or call me and leave a message at 1-800-811-2387. And be sure to join me tomorrow through Friday on our new podcast Spiritually Fit Today.