Roots have a funny way of exposing themselves when least expected.
In our driveway, there is a massive root from a tree that decided it was time to break through the asphalt in all its glory.
Yeah, not so pretty.
This got me thinking about other ugly roots that seem hidden until suddenly they’re evident when you least expect it.
This past weekend God revealed some of that in me.
Several years ago, I recorded a podcast to honor my father on Father’s Day. I wrestled with many emotions as I wrote the script and realized I had blind spots regarding my dad.
This weekend it came full circle.
As a little girl, I had pictured my relationship with my earthly father to look different. It was not until maybe 5 years ago on my Seeing Deep podcast when I was doing a Father’s Day episode that I realized the hurt I felt was my fault.
Though his absence in my life hurt, I see now that this is his first time at life, too, and he did the best he could in his fight against sin in this sin-weary world.
I allowed hurt to make me feel rejected, but my Dad had always said he loved me. Even though my Dad’s personality was at times harsh, my response was the part I could control. I just did not know it at the time.
All I wanted to be was loved, or so I thought. But my Dad did love me. Just not how I thought it should look.
So, out of fear of more rejection or hurt, I protected myself. I still reached out and made efforts on his birthdays and did visits, but I would always seem to feel hurt and it was hard to put myself out there again.
Without realizing it, I felt justified in my hurt because the other person was not perfect…but then neither was I.
What was this, really? An offense with a root of bitterness. The Greek word for bitterness in Hebrews 12:15 is πικρός (pikros), and while pikros and its related forms frequently denote anger or hostility, the word family carries a broader emotional range that absolutely encompasses hurt, grief, and anguish—not merely anger.
I justified my hurt and wished it could be resolved, not seeing that I could resolve it with or without the other person doing or saying what I felt needed to be said or done in order for the hurt to go away.
Being and staying hurt was my choice.
All these years I felt like the wronged person. A victim. But writing Thick Skin Soft Heart revealed to me that I never was.
Our culture is built on offense. But we don’t have to live according to it. That’s what God’s forgiveness is like. There is nothing that can be held over anyone’s head because Christ paid it all.
Yes, even those deep roots that are so tangled we don’t know how to undo them.
Even them.
I would not have classified my hurt feelings before as a deep root of bitterness. But I see it now and I can’t unsee it. I hope I never do. Because it is sweet freedom to no longer need to hold onto hurt that kept me bound.
Have you ever noticed that the original offense sometimes lasts only a moment, but what grows from it can last for years?
Someone says something. Someone betrays us. Or disappoints us.
Someone treats us unfairly. The moment passes—but the wound doesn’t.
Friends, that hurt does not have to remain. Somewhere along the way, what happened to us can begin growing within us.
Scripture has a name for it: a root of bitterness.
“Make sure that no one falls short of the grace of God and that no root of bitterness springs up, causing trouble and defiling many” (Hebrews 12:15).
There is something striking about the imagery the writer of Hebrews uses.
Roots grow underground. Like that stinkin’ tree in our driveway. We don’t always see them. Long before something breaks through the surface, a root system can be developing beneath it.
Bitterness can work the same way. We may still smile. Still serve. And even still worship and do the right things.
But beneath the surface, resentment can quietly begin taking root.
And eventually, roots produce fruit.
When the Wound Becomes a Root
There is an important distinction between being hurt and becoming bitter.
Being hurt isn’t sin.
Jesus experienced betrayal, rejection, false accusation, abandonment, and tremendous suffering. Scripture never asks us to pretend that painful things aren’t painful.
Sometimes Christians rush too quickly toward “Just forgive and move on.”
But healing isn’t pretending something didn’t happen.
Neither is forgiveness.
The danger comes when we feed the wound and believe the lie that there is no way out.
The hurt becomes our identity.
We begin viewing new relationships through the lens of old injuries. And gradually, the wound becomes something more.
The offense happened to us. Bitterness begins growing within us.
That’s why Hebrews 12:15 gives such a serious warning. The root doesn’t remain hidden forever. It “springs up, causing trouble and defiling many.”
Bitterness rarely stays contained within the original relationship.
It can affect our marriages. Our friendships. Churches. Families. Even our relationship with God.
One person’s offense can eventually influence relationships with people who had nothing to do with the original wound.
A root eventually produces fruit. But we can refuse to let that root produce bad fruit, rework the soil and our understanding and walk in the Spirit instead of the flesh.
So what do we do when we’ve genuinely been hurt? How do we release bitterness?
5 Ways to Uproot Roots of Bitterness
1. Recognize the Wound Without Rehearsing It
There is no spiritual prize for pretending something didn’t hurt. David lamented. Jeremiah wept. Paul spoke openly about those who harmed him.
Jesus Himself experienced sorrow and anguish. Biblical faith doesn’t require emotional dishonesty.
We can say: That hurt.
That was wrong.
I didn’t deserve to be treated that way.
But there is a difference between acknowledging a wound so God can heal it and rehearsing a wound until it defines us.
One brings our pain before God.
The other keeps bringing the offender before our minds.
We don’t heal by denying the wound. But neither do we heal by continually reopening it.
Bring the wound to God more often than you bring it back to yourself.
2. Watch What You Allow to Take Root
Hebrews doesn’t warn us about a “seed of bitterness.”
It warns us about a root.
Roots imply that something has been allowed to remain.
That doesn’t mean bitterness develops because we consciously decide, “I think I’ll become bitter now.”
Usually it is much subtler.
An offense becomes resentment.
Resentment becomes suspicion.
Suspicion becomes cynicism.
Cynicism becomes a lens through which we interpret other people.
Eventually, something that began as one painful experience starts shaping the condition of our heart.
We may not get to choose what someone does to us. But we do have a choice about what we cultivate afterward.
You may not have chosen the wound, but you can choose what grows from it.
3. Apply Grace Where Bitterness Wants to Grow
Look again at Hebrews 12:15:
“Make sure that no one falls short of the grace of God and that no root of bitterness springs up…”
Grace and bitterness appear in the same warning. That’s significant. Our answer to bitterness isn’t greater willpower. It is greater dependence upon the grace of God.
Grace doesn’t call evil good. Grace doesn’t pretend the offense didn’t matter. And grace doesn’t mean allowing someone unlimited access to hurt us again.
Grace means we refuse to demand from another person the payment Christ has already enabled us to release.
We remember how much we ourselves have been forgiven.
And then, by His power rather than ours, we extend what we have received.
Bitterness grows where grace is not applied.
4. Forgive Without Confusing Forgiveness With Access
Paul writes:
“And be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving one another, just as God also forgave you in Christ” (Ephesians 4:32).
Christians are commanded to forgive. But forgiveness and reconciliation are not identical.
Forgiveness can be offered by one person. Reconciliation requires the participation of both. And restored trust requires something more: faithfulness demonstrated over time.
You can forgive someone and still recognize that a relationship is unhealthy. Realizing that we all. need grace frees us to give the other person grace, too.
You can release hurt or vengeance to God and still establish a boundary. You can refuse bitterness without pretending trust hasn’t been broken.
And you can love someone and still recognize that wisdom requires distance.
Forgiveness releases the debt. Wisdom determines the access. That isn’t bitterness. Sometimes that’s maturity.
5. Let God Produce Different Fruit
If bitterness is a root, then we need to ask what kind of fruit we want our lives to produce.
Galatians 5:22–23 describes the fruit produced by the Spirit:
Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Faithfulness. Gentleness. Self-control.
Imagine those qualities growing from the very places where you’ve been wounded.
What if betrayal produced deeper dependence upon God? What if rejection produced compassion? And what if disappointment produced patience? What if injustice produced a greater hunger for righteousness without producing hatred?
The place the enemy intended to use to harden our hearts can become the place where God made you more like Jesus.
That’s redemption. God doesn’t waste our wounds. But we have to let Him tend the soil.
Relationship Reset
This week, ask yourself:
- What am I allowing to grow from what happened to me?
- Maybe there is an offense you’ve carried longer than you realized.
Ask God:
- Have I been acknowledging this wound—or rehearsing it?
- Has one person’s behavior begun shaping how I view other people?
- Is resentment growing somewhere beneath the surface?
- Have I confused forgiveness with pretending what happened was acceptable?
- Where does God’s grace need to be applied?
Don’t condemn yourself if you discover a root.
Bring it into the light.
God doesn’t reveal what’s beneath the surface to shame us.
He reveals it because He loves us too much to let bitterness keep growing there.
The wound may be part of your story. It doesn’t have to become the root system of your heart.
Prayer
Lord, You know every wound I carry, even the ones I thought I had moved beyond. Search my heart and show me where hurt has begun to grow into resentment or bitterness. Help me acknowledge what happened without allowing it to define me. Give me grace to forgive, wisdom to establish healthy boundaries, and faith to entrust justice to You. Uproot anything in me that does not reflect Your heart, and by Your Spirit produce fruit that looks like Jesus. May what wounded me never have greater influence over my heart than Your grace. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Visit the Shame Rx Blog for this week’s post, Letting Honor Heal Your Hurt.
All for Jesus,
Denise