I have hidden your word in my heart that I might not sin against you. -Psalm 119:11
By LYSA TERKEURST
“I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness.” John 12:46 (NIV)
My mouth was dry. My hands a bit numb. There was a stabbing tightness in my chest. My mind blurred as my thoughts became a fragmented kaleidoscope of a million pictured hopes I thought were just around the corner for me. For us. For the us that was now becoming … just me again.
We were only dating. But my mind had already run ahead in time and built a life with this man. In the future we had romantic picnics to take, snowball fights to laugh through, a wedding to plan, a house to build and kids to name with his smile and my eyes.
I’m not sure these were ever real to him. But to me, they were as real as the stone-cold coffee now sitting in front of me. The one I kept stirring to have something to focus on but that I never intended to drink. Drinking coffee seemed a bit too normal when my entire inner life had just been declared a state of emergency. Because suddenly, the rest of my planned-out life was aflame. I wasn’t just losing a boyfriend today. I was losing the connection to my dreams for tomorrow that would never be.
His words made their way through my ears to my heart. I felt the full impact of their harsh landing. As they skidded their way across the most tender places inside me, their piercing weight burned and cut and ripped apart what I thought would be so very permanent. Rejection always leaves the deepest, darkest marks.
That was decades ago. But I can pull up that memory as if it were yesterday. I have to search a bit in my past, but there it is. The wound isn’t pulsing with pain any longer. It’s more of a scar. Like a war wound, it’s just a story now.
I pulled out my journal today and tried to capture the raw essence of what makes rejection so awful. But I couldn’t capture the depth of it with finely crafted words. Instead of diving deep with my thoughts, I let them come in simple, personal phrases:
I like stability.
I don’t like getting caught off guard.
I like feeling known.
I don’t like feeling thrown away.
As I wrote this list, one line finally emerged to sum up rejection better than the others: I don’t want my normal to be snatched away. Life feels impossibly risky when I’m reminded how unpredictable circumstances can shatter and forever change what I know and love about my life. And in the fallout, some pieces never fall back into place.
It’s like taking a photograph containing all the people you love and suddenly, some of them purposely cut themselves out of the picture. And the gaping hole left behind in some ways is worse than death. If they’d passed away, you would grieve their loss. But when their absence is caused by rejection, you not only grieve their loss but also wrestle through the fact that they wanted this. They chose to cut themselves out.
Though you’re devastated, they’re walking away feeling relieved. Or worse, they might even feel happy. And there you sit, staring at a jacked-up photograph no glue in the world can fix. Normal? Taken. Not by accident. But very much on purpose from someone you never expected could be such a thief.
Rejection steals the security of all we thought was beautiful and stable and leaves us scared, fragile and more vulnerable than ever.
But God. He’s there. Jesus said, “I have come into the world as light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness,” (John 12:46). With Jesus I can walk out of this dark place.
Yes, He is the One who can help me. Heal me. Show me what to do when I’m hurting. Therefore, I must do whatever He instructs me to do. I must embrace Him. And I know I can’t continue to fully embrace God while rejecting His ways.
So I turn to Him. And really listen to where He’s leading with a willing heart.
God drops a word into my heart. Like a swig of orange juice just after brushing my teeth, I recoil at the unexpected taste. Of grace.
Why grace?! Because grace given when it feels least deserved is the only antidote for bitterness. Just because I’ve been hurt doesn’t mean I now have to live hurt. I can get mad and bitter and spread more hurt around. Or, I can choose grace and gentle responses and spread more hope around.
Hurt people, hurt people.
Healed people, heal people.
And I want to be in that latter group.
There’s nothing we can do to eliminate the pain of rejection. Oh, how I wish there were. With every fiber of my being, I wish I could remove it from my world and yours. But I can’t. The only thing to help my heart heal from these deep wounds is the constant pursuit of the sweetest grace.
To love God is to cooperate with His grace. And since I’m so very aware of my own need for grace, I must be willing to freely give it away. Each hole left from rejection is an opportunity to create more and more space for grace in my heart.
Father God, please help me be a woman who is quick to give grace, even when it’s the last thing I want to do. Thank You for the grace You extend to me each and every day. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.