Hebrews 12:14-15
"Strive for peace with everyone, and for the holiness without which no one will see the Lord. See to it that no one fails to obtain the grace of God; that no ‘root of bitterness’ springs up and causes trouble, and by it many become defiled."
You can't keep a perfect law of love and keep God's grace in your heart and not create a bitter root of anger if you're striving to ghost people (cutting off contact without explanation) in your life. You will "fail to obtain the grace of God" with all your plans and boundaries. You can't maintain grace in your heart if you're harboring disrespect and dishonorable behavior toward another. Ghosting or dismissive behavior often stems from unresolved anger, pride, or a refusal to engage in reconciliation, which contradicts the pursuit of peace. It's a poisonous attitude that spreads, harming both the individual and the community. By choosing to disconnect in a way that dishonors another, we risk failing to obtain God's grace and defiling others along the way. There's a fallout that comes from this bitterness. It hurts others who love them. They may think themselves righteous and alone, but their anger stirs up bitterness among many others. And now they've become the very thing they thought they were trying to separate from. Bitterness is contagious, spreading negativity and division. Ghosting can be a form of malice or indifference that allows bitterness to fester, blocking the flow of grace. You may think you're being holy and righteous, but you're really just stirring up malice, gossip, and slander.
Ephesians 4:31-32
"Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you"
That bitter root digs down deep and weaves it way away the arteries of your heart. It squeezes and breaks them, and it will make you sick. Ghosting not only harms the individual harboring bitterness but also spreads pain to others, creating a ripple effect of division and defilement.
Ghosting often stems from unresolved anger, pride, or refusal to reconcile. It creates a poisonous attitude that spreads its self-righteous hypocritical harm.
Deuteronomy 29:18
"Beware lest there be among you a man or woman or clan or tribe whose heart is turning away today from the Lord our God to go and serve the gods of those nations. Beware lest there be among you a root bearing poisonous and bitter fruit"
It's something that starts out small but grows insidiously, corrupting not just the individual but the whole community. Ghosting someone doesn’t just affect the person ignored; it can cause confusion, pain, or division among mutual friends, family, or church members who care about both parties. You may justify your actions as a form of self-protection or moral superiority, but this pride blinds you to the collateral damage. You may model or provoke negative behaviors in others; gossip, slander, or further estrangement, creating a cycle of division. This hypocrisy is a spiritual trap, where the attempt to distance oneself from toxicity leads to embodying it.
Failing to obtain God’s grace, as the scripture passages warn, doesn’t necessarily mean losing salvation but can speak to missing the active, transformative power of grace that enables peace and holiness. Ghosting, as an act of malice or indifference, blocks this grace by prioritizing self over love for others, contradicting the “perfect law of love”.
James 2:8
"If you really fulfill the royal law according to the Scripture, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself," you are doing well."
You've got to ask yourself, do you want resurrection, or do you want healing? Let's see if we can figure this out...
Your bitterness is making you “sick” is supported by both scripture and science. Psalm 32:3-4 describes how unconfessed sin (including unforgiveness) causes physical and emotional decay, while studies (Mayo Clinic, 2023) link chronic resentment to stress-related illnesses. Forgiveness, as Ephesians 4:32 urges, is the path to healing. Love requires action, kindness, reconciliation, or at least respectful communication, not the indifference of ghosting. And that bitterroot will cause leaks in every other relationship around you. It'll bleed into other areas of your life, like a hemorrhaging internal wound.
Personal Testimony:
I'll tell you a story. My family came through many generations of bitterroot bitterness that choked out love and joy in that time. My dad and his siblings loved each other in their own way, but the past crippled their love and forgiveness. Too many instances of abuse I suppose. Too much anger was involved. And too little forgiveness was given. And so, generations were poisoned by it. The result was that my parents were caught up in that bitterness by no fault of their own. And so, when I came along the family was very unkind to them. This isn't to say that my dad wasn't a jerk or causing division among them, but that bitterroot doesn't stop with the parties involved.
I was just six months old when my mom had enough. She left my dad and went home to her dad. He wanted nothing to do with her child (me) because he wanted nothing to do with my dad's child. You see, there's that bitterness again. Why? I don't know, no one knows really because the anger continues the harm even far beyond to initial hurt. Whatever started this fight was long ago forgotten, but now that bitterness is bruising the next generation. I was punished for the sins of my ancestors I suppose.
For six years (the first formative years of my life) I lived with a foster family because of this bitterroot's death of love and grace. I lived just a few houses down the street from my ancestral family home. I knew my extended family and my father who lived just down the street, but I wasn't one of them as far as I knew.
So I began my life as an outcast. No real family and no true understanding of what that truly means. This was the fallout of bitterness. I was the fallout of that bitteroot. The "bitterroot", gets passed down through your family, and this shows how unresolved anger and unforgiveness can become a legacy of pain, punishing generations for sins they didn’t commit. My mother’s rejection by her father, my separation from family, and my years in foster care, all stemming from conflicts long forgotten, reveals the devastating reach of this spiritual and emotional decay.
My dad's family wasn't helpful much, in fact not at all really. Some tried, but again that bitterness crept in and put an end to grace. My aunt and her children tried to help my dad and care for his newborn son. But his brother, like my grandfather (my mother's dad), wanted nothing to do with his brothers' child. So, this generational trauma pushed me out again.
Six years later my dad takes me out of the foster home, and he and I begin my new life together. He believed I was old enough now to take care of myself for the most part. He worked most of the time but tried his best to provide a home for me. He was depressed and an alcoholic, and he took care of me with what he understood about love.
But what did I know about love?
Nothing really but what my dad taught me by his example. I learned about bitterness, drunkenness, and separation. I knew I belonged nowhere. I didn't have a family like my friends families. I didn't have a mom, she abandoned me six years before, and dad told me she was dead. And for twelve years I knew that to be true. Until that day she came to our front door.
What did I feel that day?
I was afraid of it. I didn't want it, I didn't need it, I didn't want a step family. I had learned in twelve years to be alone and comfortable in that aloneness. Bitterness had its roots deep inside me. I was born from it you could say. Every instance in my childhood that look even a little like love, hope, and joy was quickly ripped away from me.
This is the foundation of a principle that was forged in me. I believe you should never punish a child for the sins of the parents, or the family, or whatever. NEVER force a child to grow up in an environment that fosters bitterness. This is a foundational principle with me, and believe it or not it's not gracious or righteous.
What do you mean Mike? How can that principle be a bad thing.
Because it too can become a bitterroot if it doesn't allow for people to make mistakes. In fact, most principles don't allow for mistakes. There is rarely very much grace in a principle when its root is bitterness. So, as you can see, bitterness shapes not just families but the very core of a child’s understanding of love, belonging, and trust.
I didn't know my family. I didn't know my grandparents. I wasn't given the opportunity because bitterness had its roots deep inside my family. It was passed down through my family’s unresolved anger and unforgiveness. It became a force that isolated me, first through my mother’s rejection by her father, then years in foster care, and later through my father’s family’s inability to overcome their own resentment. An innocent child was made to bear the weight of sins he didn’t commit.
This created in my a resentment of a kind. It manifested itself in how I view people. I don't trust people. I don't trust authority. And I really don't like false accusations made against me. I suppose being raised in an atmosphere of bitterness created a sense in me that I was by default guilty of something in the eyes of others, even when I knew I was innocent. So I very easily believe most people are bearing false witness against me. Cut off from my grandparents, rejected by my mother’s father, placed in foster care, and distanced by my father’s family; all created a profound wound in me.
Hebrews 12:15
"warns of this very thing: a root of bitterness that "causes trouble and defiles many."
My story shows how this defilement can ripple across generations, shaping a child’s worldview and relationships. The resentment I carry, manifesting as distrust in people, authority, and a heightened sensitivity to false accusations, is a natural response to growing up in an environment where love and trust were scarce. This aligns with psychological insights: chronic exposure to rejection or unfair treatment, especially in childhood, can foster "hypervigilance" and a belief that others are prone to bearing false witness (APA, 2023). I can attest to this fact. I live with it daily.
Spiritually, this echoes the pain of being sinned against, which can tempt us to build walls rather than bridges. Distrust and fear of false accusations reflects a deep longing for justice and truth; qualities rooted in God’s character (Psalm 89:14). Yet, as I've hinted, resentment can become its own bitterroot, keeping me guarded and reinforcing the isolation I've already endured. I'm very distant for the most part. And it's ironic because I can easily fit into public life, in fact my vocation demands it of me. And I do alright with it. But I don't want it really. I welcome it when it comes, but it needs to be forced upon me, because my guarded nature will always resist.
Trauma profoundly shapes our identity, often reshaping how we perceive ourselves, others, and our place in the world. My story of generational bitterness, rejection, and isolation illustrates this vividly. Especially in childhood, which disrupts the formation of a stable sense of self. Being ostracized by family and placed in foster care, can lead to an identity rooted in survival rather than belonging. I can want a family all day long, but my identity will always have that connection to the bitter root (hypervigilance).
Survivors like me often develop "masks" to navigate social settings while hiding a wounded core self. My preference for distance, despite being capable of connection, suggests an identity caught between longing for belonging and fearing betrayal. And believe me, I take betrayal very personally. And often very loudly. This is the "defilement" I mentioned earlier. Defilement can distort our view of ourselves, making it hard to internalize spiritual truths like Psalm 139:14; that you are "fearfully and wonderfully made." My sense of being an "outcast," punished for others’ sins, may have led to an identity tied to rejection rather than divine purpose. So, this bitter root can sap my connection with my Lord as well. Maybe this is why I strive so much to keep that connection. I'm fighting my own root of bitterness. This hints at a redemptive thread in my story, an identity capable of extending grace (e.g. Kairos prison ministry), even if I struggle to receive it myself.
During a Kairos weekend event inside the prison, we have a forgiveness ceremony. I won't go too much into the details, but I'll share that we write down the names of people we need to forgive or who we need forgiveness from. And these notes get dissolved into a large bin of water. And they're gone. Put in God's hands. I've been involved in many of these ceremonies. I'll share now, that I've had the names of my entire family on those notes. My wife, my extended family, my mom, my dad, my children, and my own name. I've asked for forgiveness both ways, coming and going. I’ve left it there in God's hands. And I'm at peace with it to the extent that I am able given my bitter root identity.
Genesis 50:20
As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today.
Joseph understood this idea that betrayal is raw and painful, especially when it comes from one's family. It wounds when we've become the subject of a double-cross. Joseph acknowledges the evil of betrayal but sees God’s greater purpose in it.
I understand this as well. Forgiveness, as I've practiced it, imperfect as I am, doesn’t erase the hypervigilance or fear of betrayal but loosens the grip some, allowing space for God’s good to emerge. The evil meant against me; family's rejection, abandonment, and the resulting wounds, has been real and painful. Yet, God is weaving good from it. My principle of protecting children from their family’s sins, though tinged with bitterness, reflects a heart aligned with God’s justice (Micah 6:8). And I see the prisoners as God's children as well. They need to face justice it's true, but they also need God's love and forgiveness. My hypervigilance, while painful, has honed a sensitivity to truth and fairness, which God can use for advocacy or discernment.
The "good" God intends might include a redeemed identity. Through forgiveness and faith, I'm moving toward an identity as God’s beloved, not an outcast. God is breaking these cycles of resentment. By releasing my family’s names in the forgiveness ceremony, God is halting the bitter root’s spread and hopefully ensuring that my children and others don’t inherit its pain.
But today there is purpose in the pain. My betrayal sensitivity fuels a calling to protect and guide others, as seen in ministry for the outcasts, turning personal wounds into communal healing if I can with God's help. There is still a lot of work to do in this regard. My children are not always at peace with me, and rarely do we speak. They don't appreciate my words and they resent my identity because of misunderstandings and frankly ignorance. The tension I share with my children, is a raw reminder that healing is ongoing. The bitterness still has a hold on my history. Their struggle to connect with me stems from their own wounds and bitter root misunderstandings, mirroring the family bitterness I've worked to overcome. This doesn’t negate the grace process; it highlights the complexity of relationships fractured by generational pain. I can’t control their response, but I can continue leaning into God’s redemptive purpose.
I pray for their hearts:
Following Matthew 5:44, I pray daily for my children’s peace and healing, asking God to soften their resentment. This keeps my heart open, even when they resist, much like Joseph’s patience with his brothers (Genesis 50:20).
I try to model grace where I'm able:
Knowing that I'm damaged goods and pretty much incapable of being lovable, I try to extend grace to the outcasts. Showing love without demanding response. With me it's not transactional. Grace isn't supposed to be a give and take, it's always unconditional. This mirrors Jesus’ persistent love despite rejection (Luke 23:34).
I reflect on other perspectives:
I know my hypervigilant intensity can make communication difficult, and I try to think about how that reflects upon other perspectives. This aligns with Psalm 139:23-24’s call to let God search my heart, helping me approach relationships with empathy, even when communication is hard.
And I trust God to find a way:
I've already seen God’s good in my redeemed identity and ministry. My children have very notably resisted my attempts to include them in these contexts. Some have vehemently stated they will never join me in this ministry. This tells me that there is an underlying tension between them and me and my redeemed identity. The bitterness still wants my family to cling to it. The bitter root won't allow for healing. And as a consequence, they can't accept a redeemed me. Not unlike the experience of the prisoners I know.
My response is to nurture my own peace, in daily prayer and devotional writing, affirming my identity as God’s beloved, countering the outcast narrative. Daily prayer and devotional writing are grounding practices for me, affirming my identity as God’s beloved. This practice puts me at rest and gives me power to overcome my hypervigilance.
I know I'm not alone in this work, God is with me, turning evil into good. I know all the tension is coming from misunderstanding and prideful things. I know resistance stems from the bitter root, from misunderstanding my journey and probably feeling disconnected from the grace I've found, especially if they associate me with the family’s past dysfunction. There's a lingering anxiety I call "the bitteroot", and what my children don't understand is that it's the enemy's energy they are feeding when the choose resentment toward me.
I don't think I'll ever completely be free from the hypervigilance, (a lingering side-effect of my childhood trauma; rejection, foster care, and betrayal), it's a survival mechanism that may never fully fade. Early trauma often embeds hypervigilance in the brain’s wiring, making reactive responses automatic. It's not an excuse, just my reality. It will always drive me to react when I should respond with grace. But I can try to soften my nature whenever I can. This is my work and God's work to be done. I acknowledge that God is with me, turning evil into good (Genesis 50:20), this is my faith, and it anchors my hope in His redemptive power.
Earlier I asked: "You've got to ask yourself, do you want resurrection, or do you want healing?"
I suppose the answer I've come to is we should want healing. Resurrection is wonderful when it comes, but the bitter root needs to be healed today if it's going to last. Thankfully grace is renewed with each new day.
Psalm 30:5
For his anger lasts only a moment,but his favor lasts a lifetime;weeping may stay for the night,but rejoicing comes in the morning.
Please pray for me in this work.
Heavenly Father,
You are the God who turns evil into good, who heals the brokenhearted and binds up our wounds (Psalm 147:3). I come before You, carrying the bitterroot of my past; rejection, betrayal, and the hypervigilance that guards my heart. Thank You for redeeming my identity, calling me Your beloved, fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14).
Uproot the bitterness that clings to my family, especially my children, and replace it with Your peace and healing. Help me model Your unconditional grace, showing love without demand, as Jesus did. I lift up my children to You, asking You to soften their resentment and open their hearts to Your love. Guide me to pause and pray in moments of anxiety, trusting Your timing to turn this pain into purpose.
Thank You for never leaving me alone in this work. Strengthen me through Your Spirit to nurture peace, affirm my identity in You, and extend grace to the outcasts. May my life reflect Your redemptive power, breaking generational cycles for Your glory.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.
