Handling Bitterness And Hatred - (a personal witness)

My dad was a strong man. He was strong physically, standing 6 feet 2 inches tall and weighing more than 200 pounds; and he was strong in his opinions, which he expressed with force and eloquence. I never doubted that he loved me, and that he sincerely wanted what was best for me, but as I started to grow into manhood and began standing against him, a serious conflict developed between us. I increasingly resented his absolute control over me, and especially the denigrating fact that not only could I not win an argument with him, but he would not acknowledge that I was right in even the smallest detail. In every case, I would eventually assume the role of the wrong one, and, in the interest of restoring some modicum of peace; I would apologize for getting angry and ask for his forgiveness. Inside, however, the suppressed anger and hurt were mounting, and our arguments became more frequent and heated.

It was many years later, long after my father's death, that a discerning person told me that the sudden anger that so frequently flared in me stemmed from a root of bitterness deep within my being, and asked me if I had any idea what that root might be. We talked at length about my dad, and I discovered that I blamed him for all my failures, as well as for all my shortcomings and inadequacies. It was hard for me to accept, but the truth is that I was filled with bitterness toward my dad that can only be described as a consuming hatred. Even now, I can hardly bring myself to say the words, but I hated my father. I walked along a deserted section of the Cape Cod beach near where I live, shaking my fist in the air, and with tears streaming down my cheeks, I shouted above the wind over and over, "I hate you, Dad; I hate you, Dad," I suppose subconsciously to help me face that unacceptable fact.

Having discovered this consuming cancer of hate within me, what on earth was I going to do about it? My discerning friend suggested that every time I went up to receive Holy Communion in church, I should mentally take my dad up with me. I have never before or since heard this advocated as a way to deal with hate and bitterness toward another person, but I am a firsthand witness to the fact that it is the source of miraculous healing to anyone with unforgiveness in his heart, who acknowledges his need and sincerely wants to be healed.

Ever since my father's death 15 years before, I had had vivid dreams every week or two in which I would suddenly see him in a crowd, or unexpectedly would find myself having lunch with him, or would just be with him casually and naturally. The dreams were so real, that when I awoke from them, I would have to stop and think whether or not he really had died. In the beginning, taking my dad with me to the communion rail had no particular effect on the frequency of either my dreams or of my outbursts of anger, but over a period of time, both were definitely occurring less often. One day, after about six months, I suddenly knew that it was no longer necessary to continue this practice, and from that day until now, almost 20 years later, I have never again dreamed about my dad, with only one unexplained recent exception. I cannot say that my anger has so completely disappeared, but the appearances of it are much less frequent and less intense, and the healing of it continues.

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Contributed by Stephen B. Elmer
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