MY LIFE: #25 Torment of Rejection

As my soul searched for the reasons why I practiced the things I did not desire in my inner man, I came face to face with a profound doctrine of God.

LIVING OFF THE REACTIONS OF OTHERS

Therefore, accept one another, just as Christ also accepted us to the glory of God.  (Rom 15:7)

Many years ago, I read a small book entitled Love, Acceptance & Forgiveness.  This profound book opened my eyes to the three most common things that humans long for.  These three simple words clearly described what I believed my soul was missing my entire childhood.  Finding significance in what others say about me not only produced a long list of playing god in me but also caused me to set my affections on things on this earth.   

Therefore, if you have been raised up with Christ, keep seeking the things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your mind on the things above, not on the things that are on earth. For you have died and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is our life, is revealed, then you also will be revealed with Him in glory.  (Col 3:1-4)

The profound Truths found in this humble passage became one of the most common lessons our Lord continues to reveal to me to this very day.  I have often asked myself why I cannot get my mind around these principles.  Allow me to share a paraphrase the Lord gave me before I walk you through my rejection story.

Therefore, you, Stephen, have been raised up with Jesus Christ, and you are called to seek the truest things about Me, which reside in Christ – who is seated at My right hand.  Stephen, set your mind on the indwelling mind of Christ, not on the rejections of man, which remain on the earth.  For your old nature has died, and your new life is hidden in Christ and in Me as your new Father.  As you release Christ in you to be your Life, He will reveal you in eternity forever and ever.     

As my soul searched for the reasons why I practiced the things I did not desire in my inner man, I came face to face with a profound doctrine of God:

But if I do the very thing I do not want to do, I agree with the Law, confessing that the Law is good. So now, no longer am I the one doing it, but sin which dwells in me.  (Rom 7:16-17)

Even though this passage became one of my most favored scriptures on identity, the journey the Lord took me on to embrace the reality of this Truth was long and painful.

I, like many, was born into rejection!  As my little body was birthed into this world, I was rejected by life itself.  I was what the world had classified as a bubble boy – meaning I was born allergic to my environment to such an extent that the first five years of my life, I spent more time in a psychological and, at times, physical bubble than I did in a “normal” environment.  I was allergic to all forms of food, textures, the air, and even human touch.  I was told that my mother would touch me with rubber gloves attached to the tent, setting me up for a serious case of detachment.  I was also told that my father completely detached himself from me due to this illness.  I have no memories of him being in my life during those critical stages of formation.  I can remember from an early age that my little life lacked love, acceptance, and forgiveness. 

After being released from my oxygen tent, my early years were primarily spent at home – with an occasional attempt to attend school, which usually resulted in severe rejection due to my inability to complete schoolwork.  I have endless memories of peer rejection focused on being called names such as bubble boy, stupid, dummy, and a few not worth mentioning.  Even though my siblings didn’t know what they were doing, I received intense rejection from them as well. 

One not-so-fond memory in general I have is one night at the dinner table; one of my siblings said the last one to the tree swing was a rotten egg.  With that, I jumped up, ran out the door, down the driveway, grabbed the rope, climbed up into the tree, and jumped.  To my shock, the rope had been untied.  Down from the tree, I fell, breaking both arms and my back.  Laying there half-conscious, I hear; I think we killed him, not realizing exactly what that meant until years later.  Being in casts for up to a year, my mother assigned one of my brothers to care for me, bathe me, and do my homework and anything else that I needed to get through life.  I thought I had the best brother in the entire world, not knowing that he had been assigned to care for me due to his purposeful intentions to harm me. 

Many years later, after both of us were married, this brother showed up at my door with a look on his face of grief.  His wife took Jane out for coffee, and he began to confess several events where he attempted to end my life – the broken arms being one of them.  Within moments, the whole scene came back to me, what I heard him say and his resistance to caring for me for that year.  After a healthy exchange of information that helped clarify those days, the Lord led the two of us in reconciliation.    

During my school years, my mother was determined to advance me in school in spite of my weaknesses. She pressured the schools to pass me even though I did not know how to read or write, again resulting in more rejection from family, peers, and institutions.  I remember being moved to third grade by my mother when the school held me back to second grade.  I have one distinctive memory of sitting at my desk on the first day of school and the teacher grabbing me by the collar, walking me out of the class, and putting me in the second-grade room – telling me I was not “smart enough to be in third grade.”  When I came home that day, telling my mother what had happened, she became enraged – a particular battle she did not win.  Although, every grade forward, she made it her mission to ensure that would never happen again.  The result was that I went through 13 years of education not knowing how to read or write. 

When I was a junior in high school, the school counselor asked for a meeting with my mother, which I was required to attend.  During this meeting, the counselor announced to my mother that I should not consider higher education and that I should focus on finding an occupation that was conducive to manual labor.  He also mentioned the results of some testing he did that determined I was borderline retarded, which was an interesting thing to me because I remember taking the test and not understanding 90% of what was in front of me.  In any case, my mother made sure I was advanced into my senior year.  In fact, on the evening of graduation, I remember the vice-principle (the school counselor) pulling me out of the senior picture event, saying – you are not graduating with your class.  I can remember standing on the sidelines watching the photographer (who also was the school counselor & vice principal) and the principal having an intense discussion.  A few moments later, the principal approached me, told me to get back into the group, and required the photographer to retake the picture.  I walked the aisle with the rest of the graduates, got my diploma that I couldn’t read, and, with little surprise, attended a celebration at home put together by my mother.

I was so horridly offended by the chain of events leading up to this “great day of celebration” that I left my own party early to never return home again – outside of an occasional visit.

While living out what that counselor said that day, I worked diligently at a tractor supply store and became one of their loyal and faithful workers.  One day, I got a call from my mother stating that my aunt got me a job interview with the federal government.  Curious as I was, I went to the interview.  While I was sitting in the waiting room waiting my turn for the interview, I began asking two other candidates about their education.  One being a social worker and the other having a master’s degree – I quickly realized this interview was doomed.  I was moments away from getting up and walking out, and my name was called.  Silly me, I turned around and walked into the board room to be interviewed.  Looking around the table at this distinguished group of directors, who do I see – my aunt.  In my innocence, I asked what this job was that I was applying.  With several members letting out a little chuckle, they said the County Director for OEO.  With that, I asked what OEO stood for – even though I didn’t understand what the “Federal Opportunity for Equal Opportunity” really meant, I moved forward with the interview.  Next, I asked why they were even considering me for the job when you have more qualified applicants in the waiting room.  Their response was simply that your aunt shared your story with us, and we believe that if someone gave you the right opportunity, we would see the birth of a leader.  Well, to my shock, I got the job.

Here I am, 19 years of age, directing an entire county for the United States government in assisting the needs of poverty people.  Needless to say, after a year of self-rejection, no reading or writing abilities, and a small factor called – immaturity, I resigned the same day they were going to terminate my employment.  My immaturity led me to run a small but profitable drug ring out of the office.  Being told, I would never work for another federal agency again, I was released from my duties. Oddly, setting my identity confusion aside, I had the ambition of working for the FBI as a profiler. 

Now unemployed and wallowing in my self-pity, I sunk into a pit of despair that resulted in more sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll.  After taking a road trip with my father in his cross-country trucking business, I received a letter from a young woman, now my wife, inviting me to apply for a position with this new handicap care facility.  Curious, as usual, I applied.  The position I applied for was Director of Community Services.  During the interview with the founder, he asked why exactly I was applying for that position, to which I arrogantly responded it was the best fit for me since I just come from a job where I directed an entire county for the needy.  With that, he replied, I have one job for you, cleaning toilets – on the 12 to 8 shift.  Even though I was insulted, I took the job.  Left his office to sign the contract, and there stood the woman who sent me the letter signing her contract.  I knew that day I would marry this woman.

This founder adopted me as a special project.  He moved me from position to position, equipping me with leadership and skills.  Meanwhile, my soon to be wife began teaching me how to read and write by using the Word of God.  After being faithful in these positions, the founder placed me as his special assistant.  This job gave me experience in all the skills that the founder was known for, from chasing down his coffee to sitting at his side in political meetings.  A position I cherish to this very day.  Needless to say, this man became a “father figure” to me – something I was in desperate need of.  For the first time in my life, a “father” had shown me love, acceptance, and forgiveness, but this still did not free me from my self-imposed rejection pattern. 

REJECTION CYCLE            

Let’s face it: Rejection is inevitable.  When we react to rejection, we can expect many negative consequences, primarily patterns of playing-god.  In fact, rejection is the main consequence of playing god.  This is why the rejection cycle in our lives perpetuates a sick cycle that oftentimes traps us for many years – at least, that was the case for me.  God is desirous of maturing us to the point of being able to invite rejection into our lives in order to master the art of “turning the other cheek.”  Why? Because it shows the rejecter the indwelling Life of Christ.

As you can observe in our next diagram, as the rejecter assaults us with playing god, we begin to “think & feel” that we are unloved.  Since the three basic needs we have are love, acceptance & forgiveness, we start to allow these feelings to control us.  We then make choices from these perceived feelings that produce Godship patterns in our own lives. Therefore, we react by using our own Godship to control ourselves, the rejecter, and even God.  These reactions set the rejecter up to reject us again, and the cycle of self-torment begins.        

For each of us to be able to identify, our individual patterns of rejection is critical in the renouncing process of attempting to find meaning & purpose in life from those who reject us.  It is critical for us to stop using our flesh to combat hurt and learn to embrace the pain in order to give Christ to the rejecter in love.   

Coming up next is “Two Types of Rejection.” There are only two types of rejection.  The first is overt, and the second is covert.  Overt rejection is obvious or known rejection by both parties involved. Join me next week in my life story of defining the type I used the most.