Beauty in the Bitter

Yesterday, I went for a walk in a new place. The snow blanketed everything, softening the world in a way that only winter can. It was sunset, and out east, the sky was grey—gloomy, heavy, and tinged with a kind of quiet sorrow. It was the kind of sky that makes your heart feel as though it’s reflecting the clouds above.

But even there, amidst the cold and the gloom, faint rainbow colours shimmered, reflecting the sun’s fading light—brilliant, vibrant, and determined to linger. The east held the remnants of the day’s struggle, but when I turned to the west, there it was—the sun painting the horizon in hues of hope. Deep oranges, fiery reds, and golden yellows lit up the sky as it began its descent. It was a reminder that sometimes, we have to lift our eyes and look to the light to see the promise ahead.

The air was bitterly cold, the kind of chill that stings your cheeks and makes your breath hang heavy. But as I walked, watching my puppy experience snow for the first time, something shifted. His joy was infectious—pawing at the snow, tumbling into drifts, and stopping to marvel at this strange, cold world.

And as I kept moving, I realised something: there can be beauty in the bitterness. It’s not always easy to see, and sometimes it’s hidden beneath layers of snow and frost, but it’s there. If I just orient myself to keep moving forward, to keep my gaze fixed on the light ahead, beauty begins to unfold.

The Bible speaks so tenderly to this. In Isaiah 43:19, God says, “See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” Maybe you feel like you’re in a wilderness today, missing the life you knew and longing for streams of hope to flow again. I want to encourage you—God is making a way for you. Even in this season that feels so barren and bitter, He is doing something new, something good.

Psalm 30:5 reminds us, “Weeping may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning.” The night may feel long, stretching on with no end in sight. But morning always comes, just as the sun rises in the east, filling the sky with colour and life.

And here’s the thing about walking through bitter cold or seasons of grief: it’s okay to feel the sting. It’s okay to grieve what’s been lost, to long for what once was. But as you take one step at a time, as you keep moving, God meets you there. He is the One who carries you forward, even when you feel like you can’t take another step.

Psalm 121:1-2 says, “I lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.” Lifting your eyes may feel like the hardest thing in the world right now, but let me remind you, gently: the hills aren’t empty. They’re filled with the presence of the One who loves you, who is making a way even now.

Today, I pray that you find the faint rainbow colours, even in the gloom. I pray you see the vibrant hues of hope as you turn toward the light. I pray you keep moving, knowing that beauty can be found, even here, even now.

There is beauty in the bitterness, friend. And as you take it one step at a time, God is walking with you. Keep looking to the west as the sun sets, or to the east as it rises. Keep looking to the light. He is faithful to meet you there.