Bless Israel

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 | 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

There are seasons in life when things do not unfold the way we prayed for. You trusted God, yet doors closed. You believed, yet you still felt pain. And if we are honest, there are quiet moments when the heart whispers, “Lord, why did this happen?” These are the places where bitterness often begins—not loudly, but subtly, forming in the spaces where expectations and reality collide.

In Book of Ruth 1:20, Naomi returned home carrying deep grief and said, “Do not call me Naomi; call me Mara, for the Almighty has dealt very bitterly with me.” Naomi, whose name meant pleasant, allowed her pain to redefine how she saw herself. She did not just experience loss; she internalized it. She renamed herself based on her suffering. And in many ways, we do the same. We go through rejection and begin to believe we are unwanted. We face failure and start to think we are not enough. We carry wounds and quietly accept labels that God never gave us. Yet even in her brokenness, God never called her Mara. Heaven still saw Naomi, even when she could not see it herself.

Jesus gives us a sobering truth in Gospel of John 10:10: “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy.” The enemy’s work is not always dramatic. Often, it begins with a single wound—a betrayal, a disappointment, an unanswered prayer. If that pain is not surrendered, it slowly settles into the heart and becomes bitterness. And bitterness has a way of reshaping everything. It changes how we view people, how we respond to situations, and even how we perceive God. It is dangerous not because it is loud, but because it is quiet and persistent, slowly hardening the heart without us even realizing it.

But the story does not end there. In Exodus 15, the people of Israel came to the waters of Marah, desperate and thirsty, only to find that the water was bitter. Then God showed Moses a tree, and when it was thrown into the water, the bitterness became sweet. This moment is more than a miracle; it is a picture of redemption. God does not ignore bitterness—He transforms it. That tree points us to the cross, where Jesus took upon Himself the fullness of human pain, sin, and brokenness so that what was bitter in us could be made whole again. Healing is not found in pretending the pain does not exist, but in surrendering it to the One who redeems.

The life of Joseph reflects this truth so clearly. Betrayed by his own brothers, falsely accused, imprisoned, and forgotten, Joseph had every reason to become bitter. Yet when the time came, he looked back on everything he had endured and said, “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good.” Joseph did not deny what happened to him. Instead, he allowed God to give it meaning. That is the turning point in every life—not when circumstances immediately change, but when the heart begins to see through the lens of God’s purpose rather than pain.

Being “better” does not mean the absence of struggle. It means the presence of God’s transforming work within us. It is choosing to forgive when it is difficult, to trust when things are unclear, and to surrender what we cannot control. It is allowing God to restore what was broken and to rewrite what we thought was the end of our story. Naomi’s life did not end in bitterness. By the end of the Book of Ruth, she is no longer empty but full, no longer alone but surrounded, no longer defined by loss but by restoration. The same woman who once said, “Call me Mara,” became part of a redemption story that would ultimately point to the coming of Jesus.

Perhaps the question we need to ask is not whether we have experienced bitterness, but what we will do with it. Will we carry it, or will we surrender it? Will we allow it to define us, or will we let God refine us through it? Because the truth remains: you may feel like Mara today, but God is still calling you Naomi. He has not forgotten you, and He is not finished with your story.

Shalom,
Bro. Nelmar