Acceptance Brings Release

Everybody likes me, loves me even!  I grew up believing that, and believe it still.  I approach life like I am going to be accepted by everybody, not for what I bring or give or do, but because of who I am.  I am a wonderful person, full of life and love and laughter, fun to be around.  Everybody loves me.

Nevertheless, there are those who don't, and I just don't understand that.  There are those, as I mentioned in the previous blog, who rejected me, and rejection is a terrible thing.  It means they didn't value who I am, or even what I bring or give or do.  It means they have no use for me, whether I was ever useful to them or not.  It means they don't want to be around me, regardless of the good times that could be had.  It means they do not want my love in their life, even though they desperately need to be loved themselves.  It means that they have no place in their life for me.

People deal with rejection in all sorts of ways.  That kind of hurt can lead to withdrawal, to depression, to bitterness and hardened cynicism.  It can provoke an equal and opposite rejection from the one who has been rejected.  My mother is fond of saying that there is a cycle from which people must break free, repeated patterns of rejection and rebellion.  You don't like the way I am?  Watch how good I can be at being the bad that you don't like in me!  Rejection can cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war, causing chaos, destruction, and devastation everywhere it goes, perpetuating itself in rejecting others for both good reasons and bad.  Rejection may never trust again, try again, reach out again.  Rejection may never love again.

The story is told, a true one with which I am personally familiar, of a young man who fell completely in love.  Finding his feelings reciprocated, he devised a marriage plan and invited her to run off with him, which she did.  But after fifteen years of marriage, she switched her attentions to the next door neighbor and left her husband devastated.  It broke his heart, which never healed.  He married again, and again, and again. Through the years, he had eight more wives, numerous girlfriends, uncountable flings.  Who knows how many times he tried to find that treasured love from his youth, and failed.  I used to think that the fault and flaws were the man's, until I was told about the betrayal from his first and perhaps only real love.  Then I understood.  That rejection turned his entire life into a repetitive cycle of continual rejection, him rejecting others before they could do the rejecting themselves.

And I determined not to be that way.

During one particular dark and devastating period of my life, when I had been rejected seemingly beyond my ability to accept or comprehend, I wrestled painfully with my response.  I wanted to lash out.  I wanted things made right.  I wanted revenge!  Being a spiritual man, I kept track of the prayers of King David in the Psalms regarding his enemies.  Prayers like, "God, throw my enemy down on the ground and kick their teeth out!"  "God, chase my enemy down a dark and slippery path, spin them around, and then destroy them while they're dazed and confused."  "God, let me live just long enough to see my vengeance done upon my enemies."  It may not have been the best way to handle it, but slowly it brought me out of the darkness into the light of reality, a reality where I had some choices to make.  How was I going to deal with this particular rejection?

It started with a face to face admission that only came from me:  I love you and I wish you well.

Shortly thereafter, I was in a church meeting where the message was about rejection.  Using the words of Jesus, the preacher said, "Sometimes, you just need to shake the dirt off your shoes and move on."  It resonated with me and I prayed it through, and as soon as that service was over, I drove to the street where they lived.  In the dark, I parked my car in the middle of the street in front of their house, stepped out and removed my shoes, and as I prayed prayers of forgiveness, I slapped my shoes together as hard as I could.  Accepting my rejection was liberating.  It released me from the pain I was feeling, from the hurt, from the baggage.  I was free!

Then one day, I was down on my knees in the dirt, digging and trying to do repair work that I absolutely hated, and it brought my rejection to mind.  Since I was on my knees, I began to pray, and I heard the Lord say, "Pray for that person." 

"I do pray for them," I replied.  "I pray that the earth will open up and swallow them alive down into the pit!  I pray that lightning will strike from heaven and reduce them to a greasy spot on the road.  You've done it before, Lord, you can do it again.  Just let the fire fall!"

And the Lord said to me, "It doesn't work that way.  You need to PRAY for them."  So I did.  I needed to go looking for parts, and in the car covered in sweat and dirt and mosquito bites, I prayed until it became real to me.  I forgave them again, releasing them from their debt of apology to me, and soon began to ask God to forgive them too.  I don't know if God's forgiveness works that way.  I can't repent for someone else's sins against Him, but I can certainly ask God to forgive them of their sins against me.  I accepted that my heart was hurting, would always bear the scars of the wound, and that nothing this side of heaven was going to rectify my situation of rejection, and in that acceptance, I felt the release of grace and peace and joy into my life, and I laughed all the way home.  I was free!

Then one day I was driving down a particular street, pulled up to a certain stop sign, and looking both ways before I drove through, I spotted on the street corner the one who had rejected me.  Wrath and vitriol bubbled up within my heart and out of my mouth, and I uttered the most hateful of curses and condemnations.  In my mind's eye, I actually saw myself losing control of my car, accidentally on purpose running them over in the street, and then throwing the car into reverse just to make sure the job got done right.  If God wouldn't do the greasy spot, I could easily take care of it myself.  Fortunately, it was only in my mind, the words were contained within the confines of my car, and I was the only one who knew the hatred I still held in my heart for that person.  Well, me and God.

"You killed that person just now," He said, in that gentle, non-condemning way of His when He finds an opening in my life to work on the things I usually keep under wraps.

"No I didn't," I replied, driving on.  I wanted them to look up and see me, but they never did.

"Yes you did.  You killed them in your heart, and Jesus said if you think it in your heart, you've done it.  You wanted them dead.  You murdered them in your mind."

I was immediately sick.  Not in body, but in spirit.  For twenty-four hours, I could not sleep and I had no peace.  Finally, at the end of that very long day, I began to pray.  I asked God to forgive me for having murder in my heart.  And He did.  And I forgave my rejector again.  And then I passed into one of the most supernatural experiences of my life, where the Spirit of God took absolute complete control of my mind and my mouth, praying through my weaknesses with groanings inexpressible in words.  I lay across the bed and wept for two hours, unable to utter one word in my native tongue but uttering mysteries to God in a tongue only He could understand.  And when at last the Spirit lifted, I was free.  Again.

I wish I could say that was the last time I had to have a come-to-Jesus meeting over that particular episode of rejection, but I cannot.  I've never had to deal with it so severely, but there are times when the memories surface and the pain with it.  And that's when I have to bow my head again, accept my reality and the grace of God to let it go again, and forgive again, and that's the only thing I can do.  Because I know that nothing I can do or say will ever make it right.  The relationship cannot be repaired or restored this side of heaven, and I pray that they at least make it there.  The wounds cannot be taken back.  The rejection cannot be reversed.  There have even been a few times in the passing of years that it was reinforced with some new action or words. 

But at last I can say that it's okay.  I don't need everyone to like me, or even love me.  I do have Jesus, and He loves me.  My Momma loves me.  My precious wife loves me, even when she'd like to pinch my head off and spit in the hole.  That's the love I need, and that acceptance brings release!