“I’ve been through a lot, Nona. But this . . . this is a different kind of hurt.”
I was catching up with a pastor friend of mine when he told me he was navigating the sudden departure of his executive pastor.
“I was counting on him. Not just to help run the church every day, but I was grooming him to be my successor. Now, not only did he leave without telling me he was leaving, but he spread rumors among my members and took half of the church with him.”
My friend’s eyes were dry, but they were bloodshot-red from tears he had cried over the previous week before we met up to talk.
“I didn’t see it coming. I was there for him during his toughest seasons. Loved his family like my own. I taught him how to study the Bible and how to preach, and I let him speak when I was traveling or on vacation. I don’t feel like I was stabbed in the back; I feel like I’ve been stabbed in the heart.”
Most pastors step into professional ministry in response to a deeply felt sense that we were created to help people spiritually. And yet I don’t know of any pastors who only help people spiritually. Every pastor I know has become a trusted advisor and friend to the people who call their churches “home.” This is why it can be devastating when a person you have given your time, emotional energy, counsel, and friendship to . . . leaves.
If we’re honest, all of us have experienced the pain of someone simply choosing to move their membership somewhere else after we gave the best of ourselves to them. Maybe there was a disagreement, or maybe you weren’t given the kindness of a conversation before they walked away, but either way, their choice hurt you and may have even led you to question whether you are called to ministry. I’ve been there, and this is why I hope to encourage you.
The rational, logical part of us wants to be able to wipe away the pain with the cloth of Scripture. Yet I have found that no matter how much I know in my head about the need to love and forgive my offenders, that doesn’t make the pain in my heart magically disappear. And you know why? Because, just like you, I’m human. Human beings feel pain no matter how much we have been told we shouldn’t because the love of Christ should somehow make us immune to our humanity. Although we’ve been told that time heals all wounds, pain that goes unattended doesn’t disappear; it simply changes form. If you are carrying the pain of rejection, my dear friend, it is showing up in ways you may not recognize: explosion or implosion.
Explosion
When we explode, our rejection pain becomes visible to others in the form of anger, fighting, yelling, and hurting people. This form of rejection pain is the form most often condemned as wrong. But we can also explode into a seemingly more virtuous form of rejection pain, and that is achievement. This form of explosion is socially acceptable, for the most part; we admire people who are hyper ambitious and consistently achieving more and more success. But at the root of their aspiration is the pain of being abandoned, humiliated, discarded, embarrassed, and unwanted. This is the same root causing the anger, fighting, and yelling for others.
Implosion
When we implode, our rejection pain takes the form of self-harm. We end up addicted to drugs or alcohol or sex or pornography. We end up cutting ourselves or end up severely depressed or anxious. This expression of rejection is usually the type that makes people shake their heads at us in disgust because they can’t understand why we keep hurting ourselves. But at the root of this expression is the pain of being abandoned, humiliated, discarded, embarrassed, and unwanted.
It is vital that you take the time to assess how you express your rejection pain. You have to honestly review what you do to numb and anesthetize the pain, because you will not change what you don’t acknowledge.
How to Use This Book
Use The Gift of Rejection to learn how the experiences you downplayed are still shaping how you see yourself and others today. You can use this book as both a personal study resource and a resource for counseling members of your church who are wrestling through their own rejection pain.