Rejection Sucks
It’s amazing that a word of so few letters carries more weight than just about any other word in the English language. I can certainly think of situations where other words are more significant, but in general (and at a lot of very specific times) the word “no” is the single most painful word in the English language.
“No” is usually preceded by a request or an offer made from one person (or organization) to another. It is the offer of relationship, whether in service or simply friendship or partnership of some sort. It (the offer) is an extension of the offerer, and is thus a plea of “accept me.” Which explains (perhaps in an over-simplified manner) why the word “no” is so excrutiating the majority of the time. The cry of “accept me” is met with “you’re not good enough” or “I’m not that interested in what you have to offer.” And so, the rejection is deeply personal, despite our best efforts to pretend otherwise.
This is of course (as all things are), weighted by things like personality and passion.
Some people handle “no” much better than others. Some people don’t always take it personally. But I truly believe that everyone, on some level, is affected negatively by rejection because on some level it is personal.
We are personal. We are persons. We are not robots. And although some women would argue about some men, no one can completely compartmentalize their lives. Everything, somewhere inside, is personal.
It can be seen in the workplace, in school, in a team, or in just about any environment. One member of a group, let’s call him Jack, offers an idea… a solution to a problem. And another member, let’s call her Jill dislikes that idea, dimisses it for a better one, or simply rejects it. The majority of the time Jill doesn’t have any ill will toward Jack. She’s not out to get him, and she doesn’t delight in causing him pain or trouble. But Jack feels personally rejected by Jill because she wasn’t on board with something that came from Jack’s thoughts and work. Jack’s day (or week) could be, might be ruined as a result of this rejection, and he now has feelings of ill will toward Jill.
When you say it like that it almost seems petty and stupid and extreme.
But it’s not, it’s simply human, and it happens all the time.
And that (between Jack and Jill at work, or at school) is on a “non-personal” level. Let alone the idea of one person asking another for a job or a relationship.
So we fear rejection. We hope and pray against it. We base our value (most of the time, if not all of it) on what other people think about us or on some measure of success (which if you really think about it is still what other people think about us). And so rejection, no matter how hard we try to compartmentalize, no matter how often we say “I don’t care what other people think,” still hurts because it is personal.
That’s why I always think it’s funny (not funny-ha-ha, but funny-ironic) when we say “It’s not personal, but…”
It’s funny because it is personal. Anytime you have to start with that phrase or one like it, it’s because you have to reject someone. You have to reject their offer of relationship (of some sort). And usually the relationship they are requesting has to do with their livelihood, their passion, or their love.
And those things are personal.
So what do we do? Is this a problem without a solution? Am I stuck going through life facing rejection, and feeling devalued and devastated each time I hear “no?”
Because God knows, I have heard “no” a lot more than “yes.”
In reality, I haven’t, but most of us feel that way. I tend to exaggerate, every now and again, for effect. (Notice the blatant exaggeration there at my use of exaggeration.) In reality I have lived quite the charmed life (as have most Americans) but that’s another story for another day…
But there is a solution.
If we truly understand who we are in relation to Christ. Rejection is easier to handle. If we understood that our value comes from Christ, rejection would hold much less sway in our lives.
Each time I am rejected, I feel a twinge of pain because it is personal. But when I understand that my value, my gifts, my abilities, and everything that goes along with them are based in Christ, based in the fact that he loves me and chose to serve my punishment on my behalf, rejection cannot devalue me anymore.
I am still human, so it still hurts. I will still feel less valuable each time I am rejected. But with perspective I can move past it and realize that rejection (and the person rejecting me) has no real sway over my life.
“No” doesn’t remove my value. It doesn’t mean the road has ended. It simply implies that where I thought the road was straight, there turned out to be a curve.
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