On Monday, I shared how Jesus overcame rejection (see the post here). That topic and Jesus’ example in that area are especially meaningful to me, for I know the hurts of rejection first-hand. From being bullied in kindergarten to being ridiculed when I was twelve, instances of such pain sprinkled my early years of life.
The greatest form of rejection I felt, however, came from someone I met in my teen years. I considered this person a friend, and I loved and cared for them deeply. They were walking through a hard season, and my heart was filled with compassion for them. I started reaching out to them, hoping to convey Jesus’ and my love for them.
But they didn’t respond to me. For years, I continually gave my love and my friendship to this person, only to be met with silence. It hurt. It stung. A lot.
Every time I wrote a letter, sent an email, or made a phone call, I would hope to myself, “Maybe this time, they’ll respond.” Yet, of the hundreds of efforts I made to connect with them, only a few resulted in any interaction. The vast majority of what I gave produced no fruit that my eyes could see.
Still, I kept trying. Not because it didn’t hurt – it did. I never grew numb to the emptiness that followed a letter, email, or message I sent. Eventually, though, I learned. I knew better. I knew they wouldn’t respond to me. Even so, I kept on giving.
Many would say it was foolish, idiotic, unhealthy. In a sense, it was foolish and idiotic. And now, I know it was an unhealthy relationship. But I was a kid (and I still am a kid – just one that's a little older); I didn’t know how to do any different.
Jesus had given me an overflowing love for this person, and everything I did for them, I did with the hope that they would know God loved them, and so did I.
If I were to go back to those years, I would do it again. This person, this friend, this loved one – they were and are worth it. Every note, every prayer, every tear, every thought – they’re worthy of it.
But the silence I was met with plagued my soul. Do you know what it told me? Lies.
‘I don’t care about you.’
‘I want nothing to do with you.’
‘You’re pathetic.’
‘You’re not worth my time.’
‘You’re not worth responding to.’
‘All you’re giving me means nothing to me.’
‘I hate you.’
‘Why won’t you just leave me alone?’
‘You’re not worth choosing. I’ll never choose you.’
The enemy took advantage of the silence and twisted it into a knife, which he plunged deep into my heart. My identity, my worth, and my ability to hear from God were all torturously questioned. The person I kept reaching out to never said the words above. But because they didn’t say anything at all, the gaps were filled in by the devil’s lies.
“Rejection,” was the menacing whisper that echoed in my heart. It was the identity Satan wanted me to carry. All throughout those years, and even after, I struggled and grappled with this rejection issue.
The only way I could press on and get through was Jesus. There were days I didn’t want to try again; Jesus would gently encourage me to anyway. There were days I wanted to do more and Jesus said no. I listened to His voice, letting Him lead me. He brought me through the pain and taught me to persevere.
I’d like to tell you that I have a happy ending to this story, but I don’t. Not yet. I’ve stopped trying to connect with this person, not because I’ve given up (I haven’t), but because the Lord directed me to. My heart still has a love for this friend, and I hope that one day, there will be redemption and reconciliation between us.
But I don’t seek after that ‘happy ending’ anymore. This – the silence, the rejection, the pain of this relationship, the lies of the enemy – doesn’t define me. It’s a part of my life, yes; but it’s not part of who I am.
I am not Carolyn, the rejected. I am Carolyn, the accepted, the beloved, the holy, who has felt the pain of rejection. I am she who knows its sting, and who stands on the other side of it. I am a daughter of the King; I am accepted completely. I know the One who defines me. I know the One – the only One – Whose opinion matters.
He calls me beautiful. He calls me worthy. He chose and chooses me. And most of all, He calls me His.
So take that, world. Rejection has no hold on me. I’ve found the beauty and the joy of pure, unconditional acceptance. I choose to live there.
If you’ve been rejected, first I want you to know that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the pain you have experienced.
Second, Jesus knows exactly what you’re going through. He understands every pain you face.
Third, you don’t have to live there. Your Father has His arms open wide in perfect acceptance of you. He’ll never turn you away. He’ll never abandon or forsake you. He’ll never cast you out. He loves you, as you are, even now. You are safe in His arms.
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