When Lent Feels Like a Battle: Anger, Betrayal, and Trusting God Anyway

This Lent has been… a lot.

I started the season with all the right intentions. I was praying more, fasting from things I knew were distractions, really trying to lean into the stillness and get closer to God. And for the first couple of weeks, it felt good. I felt steady. Focused. Even peaceful.

But then… everything started unraveling.

It was like attack after attack after attack. One situation after another, each one heavier than the last. My biggest struggle—anger—came up hard. And not just small annoyances, but deep, heart-hitting stuff that had me spiraling. The kind of stuff that tests your faith and makes you question everyone and everything.

Dealing with Betrayal

What made it worse was that the pain came from people I was trying to look out for. People I thought I was protecting. People I cared about. And to be hit with lies, betrayal, and this deep feeling of being used or misunderstood—it just broke me.

I found myself saying, “This is exactly why I don’t trust people. This is why I keep walls up.”

And just like that, I felt myself slipping back into that version of me I’ve been working so hard to heal—the version that’s guarded, closed off, and convinced that no one is safe to let in. It had me questioning even people who haven’t even hurt me. Thinking, How long until they do?

That’s the part that hurts the most. Because I know this isn’t the heart God wants me to have. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sitting here feeling bitter, angry, and honestly… just tired.

The Honest Conversations I’ve Had with God

I’ve had so many raw conversations with the Lord lately. The kind where I sit in silence with tears running down my face because I don’t even have the words.

I’ve said things like: 

“God, take this anger from me.”

“I don’t want to carry this bitterness.” 

“Help me to not shut everyone out because of the ones who hurt me.”

“Help me to forgive, because right now all I want is for them to feel the same pain they caused me.”

It’s ugly. It’s uncomfortable. But it’s honest.

And maybe that’s the point of this season. Maybe Lent isn’t about being perfect or getting it all right. Maybe it’s about being stripped down to the places we’ve hidden. The parts of us we’ve tried to ignore. The places still bleeding. And letting God into those spaces.

This Is Not Who God Wants Us To Be.

I know these feelings—bitterness, anger, that desire for people to “get what they deserve”—I know they don’t align with the heart of Jesus. I know He calls me to forgive. To show grace. To love even those who hurt me.

But I’m not going to pretend that’s easy. Because right now? It’s not.

What I do know is this: God is not surprised by my struggle. He’s not shocked by my anger. He’s not disappointed in my pain. He’s just waiting for me to bring it to Him. And when I do, He doesn’t shame me—He meets me with mercy.

Healing Takes Honesty

So maybe this Lent isn’t about me having it all together. Maybe it’s about me sitting at the feet of Jesus, broken and angry and not sure how to move forward—but willing to let Him work on my heart anyway.

Maybe the real sacrifice isn’t just giving up sweets or social media. Maybe the real sacrifice is laying down our pride. Our desire for revenge. Our walls. Our pain. Our need to control who gets our trust and who doesn’t.

Maybe healing starts with admitting that we're not healed yet.

Lord, you know how heavy my heart has been. You know the anger I’ve been carrying, the trust I’ve been holding back, and the pain that keeps rising up. I don’t want to stay here, but I don’t know how to let go on my own. Please help me. Help me forgive. Help me to soften my heart again. Take this bitterness and turn it into peace. Take this anger and turn it into healing. And please, Lord, help me to trust again—not just people, but You.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.