Rejection

To say that I was experiencing emotional agitation would be a gross understatement.  I was crushed.  The logical, grown-up part of me that “knows better” could not override the pain coming from somewhere deep within that was causing my heart to bleed.  This was not an unfamiliar feeling; indeed, I wouldn’t have to try hard to bring to mind instances wherein I’d felt this familiar hurt, and were I to trace its origins, I would discover that the onset had occurred sometime in my very early years.  I was experiencing what has been called the “sting of rejection.”  That term in itself is laughable.  It should be called the “knife in the heart, punch in the gut, ripping off of fingernails pain of rejection.”  The “knowing better” part could see that the people from whom I had perceived rejection hadn’t done anything wrong.  They hadn’t been blatantly mean.  It was more rejection by non-affirmation.

The truth is, this isn’t a feeling uncommon to most.  Every person alive has, at one time or another, in one measure or another, experienced this pain.  It’s innate in us to desire an understanding of our unique place in this world; to know that we’re here for more than just taking up space; to know that we matter.  Ultimately, that desire is met in the arms of a Father who made us and is crazy in love with us.  Ephesians 1:11 tells us, “It's in Christ that we find out who we are and what we are living for.”  And in Christ, we discover that who we are is the apple of God’s eye; a pearl of great price; the woman in The Last of the Mohicans who is told by the man who loves her, “I will find you!” (Okay, that last one may just be for me.  I’m a romantic at heart, and that’s one of my most favorite lines in any movie!)  The point is, we were created to dance with Jesus!  To live loved.  Each of us is God’s favorite.

Don't be afraid, I've redeemed you. I've called your name. You're mine. When you're in over your head, I'll be there with you. When you're in rough waters, you will not go down. When you're between a rock and a hard place, it won't be a dead end— Because I am God, your personal God, The Holy of Israel, your Savior. I paid a huge price for you: all of Egypt, with rich Cush and Seba thrown in! That's how much you mean to me! That's how much I love you! I'd sell off the whole world to get you back, trade the creation just for you.     ~Isaiah 43:1

When we embrace this truth and live out an ever-increasing love relationship with God, we become that message.  We’re transformed.  We can stop looking for things by which we can measure up or present ourselves acceptable or worthwhile, which is what we do in our frantic attempts to avoid rejection, for to be rejected would solidify in our hearts the lie that is perpetuated that says we are, in fact, worthless; not good enough; not as good as; worthy only to be discarded.  Ironically, in our mad scrambling to keep rejection at bay, we do to others the very thing that causes us such heartache when done to us.

Why, then, would it surprise us that the enemy would utilize rejection as a tool of his trade?  He’s intent on our destruction.  It’s an incredible threat to him for us to become the message of love to a world that so desperately needs it.  There are people who have been fed the lie of inferiority for so long that they’ve embraced it as truth and can’t see even a trace of their true, God-created identities; the treasure inside of them.

I want to love like Jesus loved.  Like he still loves.  He was willing to touch those whom society deemed worthless; unclean; those to be avoided.  He saw beyond their exterior to the heart of who they truly were being called to be.  May I decrease so that Christ may increase, and as that occurs, may the fragrant aroma of Christ entice those who are being drawn into relationship with him by the Holy Spirit.  After all, isn’t this really the point?

The Good Ol' Days

I’ve been fairly distraught lately.  The cause of my mental anguish:  the fit (or “non”-fit, more precisely) of my clothes.  I’m not morbidly obese, nor do I engage in binge eating.  In fact, as I begin approaching middle age, I’m more aware of genetic pre-dispositions to things such as diabetes and heart disease, and while I’m far from a health nut, I do try to make healthy choices when it comes to diet and exercise.  However, one medical condition passed on to me via DNA is hypothyroidism, and there’s nothing I can control with regard to whether or not my thyroid gland produces an adequate supply of thyroid hormone.  When it isn’t working properly, it wreaks havoc with my metabolism, and symptomatic of that is weight gain.  As a woman in today’s society, it’s very difficult not to get caught up with body image and self-scrutiny.

On another seemingly unrelated note (but I promise- there really is a connection!), I’ve also found myself irritated by what I’ve perceived to be a lack of autumnal hues in the foliage this fall.  Many of the vibrant crimsons and fiery oranges seem to be missing this season.

In short, it seems that I have, to some extent, been pining for the “good ol’ days”.  The early days of my marriage, when my weight was ideal and I could easily wear a size 6/8… the days after Logan was born, when the pounds seemed to melt off as easily as they did when I was a teenager… the days of some “perfect” fall when red and orange leaves abounded… those “good ol’ days.”

In the midst of my lamenting and pouting, the Holy Spirit wraps his arms around me.  He’s such a gentle corrector.  In fact, when the epiphany first comes, I don’t even recognize it as mental course direction.  Oh, but it is, and as I embrace it, it’ll have profound impact on my life and, I trust, on lives I touch.  The phrase comes to mind, “It is what it is.”  I’ve uttered those words before with a somewhat dismissive, almost apathetic attitude.  This time, though, they have a different connotation.  “It is what it is.”  Right now.  Here.  The present.  I’ll never be a 23-year-old bride again, and I’ll never be able to re-live some seemingly perfect season of my youth.  I can try as hard as I might to construct some idyllic state of being as a means of fabricating some emotional state of well-being so that I can THEN enjoy life… but that won’t happen.  The reason, I believe, that good memories linger is because they serve as a mile marker of a time when we truly embraced “now.”  “It was what it was.”  And right now is what it is.  Right now, I’m a 36-year-old mother of two of the orneriest, most wonderful boys who ever were.  Right now, I understand God’s love for me more than I ever have in my entire life.  Right now, life has some rocky places, but they’re serving to make the journey that much more adventurous.  It is what it is- it’s life!

Would you look at that!  Those are red leave skittering across my back yard! J