Rejoicing in the Midst of Rejection

I would say that I am pretty familiar with rejection. In kindergarten, my first boyfriend left me for a blonde girl whose mom let her shop at Limited Too. In elementary school, I struck out in softball literally every time I went to bat (and then cried). In middle school, I was the only one of my friends to not have a cell phone to partake in the meaningless “what up?” “nothing much” text exchange. In high school, I was consistently the friend who was date-less on homecoming.

I’m sure that everyone has stories of rejection; some like these, and some much more serious and painful. But regardless of the extent to which we are rejected, how do we deal with it when it inevitably comes our way?

In the book of Esther, a Jewish man named Mordecai refuses the commandment to bow down to Haman, a noble man who works for the King. Haman, being upset by this refusal, plots to kill not only Mordecai, but also all of the Jews (Esther 3).

I think we can all agree that we sometimes have a tendency to overreact like Haman when faced with rejection. A disappointment from another that is worthy of sadness spirals out of control when we assume there must be reflections of ourselves lying underneath. Maybe a breakup leads us to believe we are unworthy of love or being chosen; or not being invited to a social event must mean that we are awkward, boring, and less than all of those who were asked to come.

And many times, we deal with these feelings about ourselves exactly as Haman did:

“Haman restrained himself and went home, and he sent and brought his friends and his wife Zeresh, and Haman recounted to them the splendor of his riches, the number of his sons, all the promotions with which the king had honored him, and how he had advanced him above the officials and the servants of the king” (Esther 5:10-11).

Instead of bringing our insecurities to God, we bring them to the world. We find the friends that will tell us what we want to hear: that we are superior to the girl our ex-boyfriend picked instead, and that the person who didn’t invite us to their party isn’t worth spending time with anyways.

We make ourselves feel better by making a mental inventory of all the awards we’ve won, likes we’ve gotten, or things we have, that rank us superior to others. And as a result, the world puts a band-aid over our insecurities while really dragging us deeper into our sin of pride.

But do we really feel better?

In John 3:26-30, some of John’s disciples came to him and said, “Rabbi, he who was with you across the Jordan, to whom you bore witness – look, he is baptizing and all are going to him. John answered, a person cannot receive even one thing unless it is given him from heaven. The one who has the bride is the bridegroom. The friend of the bridegroom, who stands and hears him, rejoices greatly at the bridegroom’s voice. Therefore, this joy of mine is now complete. He must increase, but I must decrease.”

John didn’t seek comfort from the world in his rejection. He didn’t ask for a pep talk or tell his disciples his past accomplishments. He didn’t explain why he was superior to the other baptizer, and he didn’t even wallow in his loss. Instead, he set his mind on the kingdom.

John understood that boasting in our success to feel better is pointless because there would be no success without God (Genesis 39:3). John understood that our gifts are not to be labeled as superior or inferior, but as God-given to further the kingdom (1 Corinthians 12:18). John understood that we have no reason to feel anything but joy if God is being glorified (Philippians 1:21).

But most of all, John didn’t believe the lie that the secret to overcoming rejection and insecurity is that “I must increase, and he must decrease.”  He understood that the ultimate goal is not to be happy, content, well-liked, or praised; the ultimate goal is that God must increase, and we must decrease.

If we look back to Haman, we see that recounting his possessions and his status among men didn’t satisfy him. He told his friends, “Yet all this is worth nothing to me, so long as I see Mordecai the Jew sitting at the gate” (Esther 5:13).

How often are we similar to Haman in that we are unsatisfied because of that one thing we don’t have, or that one rejection we can’t redeem? And how often do we fall into believing the lie that once we get what we are striving for, it will solve everything?

But here is a secret: when we look for contentment in this world, we will never find it (2 Corinthians 12:10). There will always be someone prettier, smarter, richer, funnier, or nicer than us. There will always be hurt, heartache, sorrow and rejection. There will always be people who fail us.

It’s not until we stop focusing on worldly gifts or losses, and instead set our minds on a heavenly goal, that we will find contentment (Romans 8:6). That we will be able to say with freedom: “Yet all this – the awards, the likes, the possessions, the rejections, and the triumphs – is worth nothing to me, unless Jesus is being glorified.”

And when we turn to the One who is whole in our brokenness, like John, in every circumstance we can say with confidence: “This joy of mine is now complete.”