The person of the critic.

The worst part about having a critic isn't what they think. It's not their critique, not their disparaging influence, their pretentious condemnation or even the panic they induce; for as our own worst critics those things already lie within the realm of ourselves.
Rather the bitterness is what is worst.
We're already in a heavy battle; we're grieving beyond their consideration, fighting for truth beyond their recognition, and making amends beyond their limited perception of the situation. Still, they have the audacity to judge the glimpse of something they callously misunderstand. We feel they've created a less than human identity of us that only includes our mistakes and the pain we've inflicted and certainly never lends us graceful opportunity for growth.
So in anger, injustice and defense we embitter ourselves towards them. Not just the injustice, or the pain caused - but towards them, the person, as well.

Bitterness is the worst part.

Our response to injustice becomes just that, injustice. We create a less than human identity of them that only includes their mistakes and the pain they've inflicted and certainly never lends them graceful opportunity for growth.
Does the last sentence sound familiar?

That is why bitterness is the worst.
It inexcusably demeans their personhood.
Then we become the very thing we find disdainful in them.

Value their humanity, not their callous critique.
Disregard their critique, not their precious humanity.

The Critic in the Stands.

"The critics voice is so powerful because it resonates with the voices of our deepest fears, those voices speaking from inside of us, telling us that we are not good enough. The critics confirm our repressed and terrified suspicions that we don't measure up, that we are unsafe and unlovable.
The voice of the critic can be like a hot dagger that reaches the heart quickly and surely.
But the critic's voice is untrustworthy."
- Michael Gungor

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat." 
- Theodore Roosevelt


I know you came to watch the show.
You hoped for a glimpse at my shortcomings, to slip in a jeering smile saturated in contempt.
How very kind.

We looked out of the arena, into the stands where you sat back, arm around another waiting for it to start, and we just shook our heads. Out of disbelief... astonished humor, even?

Did you get what you wanted? Do you feel justified yet?

I looked into the faces of those who've joined my arena. Who have stood by my side, watched me stumble, seen the blood but picked me back up anyway...
and I genuinely hope that when you are in the arena there are as many people willing to climb in with you as I undeservingly have. 
We all need them.

A Grief Observed, Ch. 4

My idea of God is not a divine idea. It has to be shattered time after time. He shatters it Himself. He is the great iconoclast.