Replacing Bitterness with Remembrance
I love to capture memories. Our family has a shared album for pictures of our son; we drop pictures into it whenever we take them, so that those who are far away can still see what he’s up to and how much he’s growing. This past spring, we had to start a new shared album, because Apple limits those albums to 5000 pictures, and we had reached that with the first one. The majority of the pictures in those albums are from me.
When I was making a baby book for pictures of his first year on Shutterfly, I had to split the year into two books because the first 6 months ended up taking up 100 pages, which is the max that Shutterfly will let you create. I definitely wasn’t going to just use less pictures.
Timehop is one of my favorite apps on my phone. Everyday, it creates memories for me from my camera roll and social media accounts, and these memories now remind me how little he was last year, as well as all the milestones he hit as he grew in his first year. My streak in that app is over 5 years long.
So you would think that I would have a fairly easy time remembering all the things that God has done for me in the past so that I can stand confident in the knowledge that He will do it again. But instead, it’s like I have amnesia; when I’m walking through a struggle, I cry out to God, asking Him why He’s allowing me to suffer, wondering if He’s forgotten me, and allowing myself to get more and more indignant that He hasn’t come through for me yet.
I saw this happen to myself when I was searching for a job after graduating from grad school. I remember having several conversations with my mom where I said to her that God was never going to come through for me, that’s how bitter I became in that wait. Even when my mom pointed out all that God had done for me in the past, I stubbornly held to that bitterness, insisting that things were different this time.
But sure enough, God eventually brought me to my dream job, teaching English at my alma mater, where I’ve been for the past ten years.
I went through the same struggle when waiting to meet Justin, and then again when we battled infertility. In my lowest moments of those waits, I convinced myself that God was going to suddenly do something out of character and abandon me in that struggle. I think, at its root, my struggle was with all the different things God made me wait for. After walking through some really hard waits, I would embark on a new journey thinking, “Surely He won’t make me wait this time!” And then when He did, I would eventually feel betrayed, believing that it was unfair that I had to wait again.
My struggle with bitterness has changed in motherhood. It’s not about waiting anymore, especially when I blinked and my tiny Rainbow Baby has turned into a rambunctious toddler. Time feels like it’s going at warp speed. Instead, the bitterness comes when I am feeling especially exhausted in all that goes into being a mom. When I have to switch another load of laundry. When I have to empty the dishwasher yet again. When I have to pick up the toys and books that I just put away.
I expected to feel perpetual joy in motherhood. I longed for it and waited for it and sacrificed so much for it. When it finally arrived, I expected every moment to glow, even when it was hard. Because I expected something from myself that is just utterly unreasonable. I thought I would just be so grateful to have my Rainbow Baby, that I wouldn’t be fazed by the late nights, the neverending chores, the constant need for attention. Just because I went through so much to become a mom, doesn’t mean it isn’t the hardest job I’ve ever had. That also doesn’t mean I’m not insanely grateful to finally be here. But there are moments in motherhood where I have a hard time reconciling those two things, and that manifests itself in bitterness- as if somehow God is the one who has betrayed me by allowing all those emotions to exist at once. I look at that battle in my heart and I call it unfair, instead of what it really is: normal.
It’s not shocking that our bitterness is rooted in anxiety. The more anxious we feel, the more we’re convinced that what we’re experiencing is unfair, no matter how irrational that may be. We resent God, feeling like He’s let us down. So how do we face this bitterness?
We remember.
We cling to those moments where God came through for us.
We cling to those memories where God worked something miraculous.
We cling to those blessings that He gave us against all the odds we faced.
We remember.
I really love that the first time “remember” appears in Scripture, it is God who is doing the remembering. When I think back on all those times I’ve struggled with the action, it only makes sense that we as humans need an example to follow, and there is no better example than God. I also love that this example comes from one of my most treasured stories in Scripture: Noah and the rainbow.
God’s remembrance comes at the end of the story, after Noah and his family have just exited the ark when the flood waters finally recede. God speaks a blessing over them, and then gives them the animals to eat, with specific instructions on how to prepare their meat (Did you know humans were vegetarians until this moment?). He also instructs them to be fruitful and multiply.
When I struggled with infertility, this verse always rubbed me the wrong way. I remember saying to my mom, “I’m trying!!” to be fruitful and multiply. But I don’t think God is only talking about procreating here. He wants our lives to be fruitful, and He wants us to multiple His followers. Yes, those things can happen if we have children, but there are so many other ways to follow this command. And those are the things God wants us to remember.
Back to God’s example of remembrance. At this point, God establishes a covenant with Noah, his family, and all of creation that has survived on the ark: He will never again destroy life with a flood. And the sign of this covenant will be a rainbow.
God specifically tells Noah how the rainbow will be created: “Whenever I bring clouds over the earth and the rainbow appears in the clouds…” (Genesis 9:14 NIV). We’ve all heard the sentiment, “You can’t have a rainbow without a little rain.” But this symbol beautifully represents what we as humans face regularly: the storms of life come in, clouding over our ability to see clearly what God is doing. No wonder we get bitter so easily. No wonder we struggle to remember His goodness, when the clouds can be so dark and the rain so torrential. But from within those clouds, that storm, God sends His blessing and the rainbow appears, as a sign. As a remembrance: “...I will remember my covenant between me and you and all living creatures of every kind” (Genesis 9:15a NIV).
God uses the rainbow to remember that He has promised not to destroy us again. Does this mean God forgets about this covenant? No. One of the definitions of the Hebrew word used here is “keep in remembrance.” That means every time God sees the rainbow, He continues to remember the covenant. He continues to honor it. Even when the storms we humans create get really dark, He’ll still send that rainbow shining through.
As women in pregnancy and motherhood after loss and infertility, we have living, breathing rainbows growing inside of us and running around our feet all day long. Yes, they are busy. Yes, they are demanding. Yes, they require so much from us. But when we remember them as our rainbows, we directly battle the devil’s bitter pill that he so desperately hopes we’ll continue to swallow. He wants to convince us that our exhaustion, our struggle, our lack of joy in every single moment can’t coexist with our gratitude. And if we’re not feeling grateful 24/7, God has somehow let us down in His promises and blessings. Don’t let him get that hold. Even when you’re exhausted, even when you’re struggling, even when that joy is hard to find in the moment you’re in, remember God’s Rainbow.
So how can we as humans follow God’s example? He’s God, so obviously it’s easy for Him to remember. What about a human example? I actually looked at two passages in relation to the exodus that show us how the Israelites remembered God’s provision. In Exodus 13, just after the Passover, once the Israelites have finally left Egypt, God commands the people to consecrate their firstborn to him. Moses takes this command to them, saying, “Remember this day, in which ye came out from Egypt, out of the house of bondage…” (Exodus 13:3a KJV). He then gives the instructions for how the Israelites are to observe the Passover every year, once they reach the Promised Land. Eventually they are to share this ceremony's meaning to their children, and “it will be like a sign on your hand and a symbol on your forehead that the Lord brought us out of Egypt with his mighty hand” (Exodus 13:16 NIV). Just like the rainbow is a sign for God, the Passover ceremony will be a sign for the Israelites, to help them remember how God rescued them.
In Psalm 77, Asaph writes a song to help the Israelites remember additional blessings God provided during the exodus. Before he describes the way the Red Sea was parted to allow the Israelites to escape the pursuit of the Egyptians, Asaph writes, “I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes I will remember your miracles of long ago. I will consider all your works and meditate on all your mighty deeds” (verse 11 NIV).
A rainbow.
A special ceremony.
A song.
What can you use as your sign, your symbol, your reminder to help you remember the miracles and mighty works of God in your life? I wear a ring everyday that has my son’s birthstone in it. His life is the mightiest work God has done in my life, and today I am committing to use this ring as my sign to remember that. When I look at it, I will remember all that God has done for my family and release my bitterness to Him.
What will your sign be?
There’s one other thing in Psalm 77 that I found interesting. The beginning of this song is an honest expression of emotions in the struggle. He’s wondering if God can hear his cries. In verse 9, he even asks, “Has God forgotten to be merciful? Has he in anger withheld his compassion?” (NIV). It can feel like God has forgotten us when we’re stuck in our bitterness. We feel so let down that the only answer is God has simply vanished. But the Hebrew word for “forgotten” here, when God is the subject of the sentence, means an accusation. This is not an action that God can actually complete. He simply is unable to forget us. We might accuse Him of such things, but it’s simply not true. Rest in that today: God will never forget you.
Letting go of bitterness is hard. Even when our infertility has been resolved, even when our rainbow after the loss has arrived, we can look back on those struggles and find them deeply unfair. And you know what? They are. But that unfairness is the work of Satan, not God. When we remember all that God has done for us, we are able to refocus on all those answered prayers and rejoice in the fact that, when the time comes, He’ll do it again.
Find yourself a sign to help you remember His goodness.
Look for His rainbow to shine through the storm.
Mark those celebrations with songs of praise.
Our remembrance is more than just a glowing memory. It is a sword against the devil’s schemes. Wield it with all your might.
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