CHAPTER 3 REJECTION
THE DECEITFULNESS OF SIN
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All rights Reserved
CHAPTER 3 REJECTION
She was so startled by something in her sleep, she was yanked
violently awake; knocking the alarm clock and a book off the shelf.
It felt like something was in the room and for a few moments, she lay
in bed, breathing hard, and listening. She was so frightened, she
felt paralyzed. It took all the courage she could generate to move
because for a few moments, she felt as if she were frozen in her
dream; the dream she couldn't even remember now.
Finally, when she could will her body into movement, she got out
of bed and replaced the book and the alarm clock. Tugging her pillow
from the bed, she felt her way into the living room. She stopped
momentarily and peered cautiously around the darkness of the living
room. Moon light filtered through the window curtains; offering just
enough elimination to make out the ominous shapes of the furniture.
Unfortunately, the light switch was on the other side of the living
room. She was a big girl now and after all, there really wasn't
anything there so she didn't need any light.
She walked through the poorly lighted living room and found the
couch. Placing her pillow at one end, she lay down but knew she
wouldn't be going back to sleep any time soon. She tried to recall
what had awakened her so abruptly minutes before. All she could
remember was the sound of a loud noise. She shivered at the memory
and wondered why she hadn't been sleeping so well these last couple of
years. She realized, for the first time, she was sleeping on the
couch more than in her own bed. Tears came to her eyes as old
memories drifted back into focus. She had never been able to
understand why those memories would not go away.
As she searched her own thoughts, she remembered her day at work.
As soon as she had gotten to work, her boss had called her in.
Sitting down, the boss said, "We've gotten a customer complaint about
you." She felt as if she had been struck physically. She even swayed
in her chair. "Are you all right?" she heard her boss asking.
Finally she found her voice, "I think so."
"You turned white as a sheet," her boss said. "Are you sure you
She wasn't all right but she couldn't tell her boss otherwise.
"I'll be fine."
The boss waited and then rose and got her a cup of cold water and
handed it to her. When she sat back down, she said, "The complaint
is so ridiculous, I told the customer to get lost but I wanted you to
know about it in case somebody mentioned it. I didn't want you to
worry about it or to hear about it second hand."
Now it was the middle of the night and the reality of that
experience was sharply outlined in her mind. The sense of
worthlessness had somehow triggered anxiety which dropped on her like
a wet cloth and she opened her mouth to take in more air. She felt
chill and wished she had a blanket. Something touched her cheek and
she literally shot from the couch. Whirling around, she squinted into
the inky opaqueness surrounding her. There was nothing. She
literally ran for the light switch and flipped it on. She stared
carefully at every area of the room; examining each piece of
furniture. She saw nothing out of the ordinary. Something had
touched her, though, hadn't it? Finally, seeing nothing, she took a
deep breath, and switched the light off. Slowly she returned to the
couch and lay down. She was still breathing hard and she struggled
to bring it under control. She found it difficult to focus.
She grew weary after awhile and began to drift off to sleep. As
she did, she vaguely recalled the time she went forward during a
church service and had the evangelist, whom they said had the gift of
deliverance, lay hands upon her to cast out the demons. She had felt
better for awhile but then things grew worse. She certainly could not
tell anybody she was feeling worse because they would just blame her
for it then. Her fatigue finally overtook her and the darkness of
sleep swirled over her and covered her.
The crash in the kitchen brought her instantly awake. She lay
listening, her heart pounding so hard, she thought she might have a
heart attack. She heard nothing. "Was someone trying to break in?"
Their neighbors had in fact been broken into just two weeks ago, she
Moments later, hearing nothing more, she screwed up enough
courage to get up and switch on the living room light again. Making
her way cautiously to the kitchen, she switched on the light. She
quickly examined the windows and doors visually and everything seemed
locked. Moving slowly at first into the lighted kitchen, she hunted
around trying to find the pan that she knew had obviously fallen and
had awakened her. She found nothing out of place.
Putting some water on to boil, she sat down and waited. She
knew the sound was real because it had awakened her but nothing she
saw explained the noise she'd so clearly heard. It had sounded
exactly as if a large skillet had fallen from the stove to the floor.
She couldn't recall a skillet, however, even being on the stove that
night before going to bed.
When the water finished boiling, she made tea and sat and drank
it slowly. She was exhausted. The voices she had been hearing
reminded her how worthless she was. She remembered her mother always
telling her she should have never given birth to her because she was
just too much trouble. She remembered when her father had died when
she was 7 years old. He had never talked to her that way but he had
never paid any attention to her either. Mother was always complaining
how he stayed out late and that he was probably cheating on her.
Then he died in a car accident and in less than a year, on her 8th
birthday, she was sent by her mother on the train to her aunt and
uncle's to be raised by them. She could never understand why her
mother didn't want her.
She pushed her tea cup away and lay her head down on her folded
arms and cried when she remembered the sexual abuse by her uncle. She
had wanted to kill him for what he had done. Even now, as a
Christian, she hated him and wanted to kill him and he wasn't even
alive any more. When she tried telling her aunt what had happened,
she had slapped her so hard, she had fallen and struck her head. "You
little worthless whore," she heard her scream, "don't you ever say
anything like that to me again or I'll put you in an orphanage."
Those terrible words echoed in her mind even now as if they were
still there. She cried deeply but silently as she had learned to do
all those many years ago lest she be heard by her mother.
The voices came again when the tears finally stopped. She was
tired and felt she had no more strength to resist. Besides, she must
be crazy. She saw the glitter of the knives sparkling in her mind as
they lay silently in the drawer a few feet away. Pushing her chair
back, she dragged herself to the drawer and pulled it slowly open.
Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. A strong voice said,
"You don't deserve to live. You let him do it to you. You even liked
it and you know you did. Your aunt was right. You are still a whore
and don't deserve to live." She felt her hand move and close around
the wooden handle. The knife slid effortlessly free of the drawer
and she held it up and looked at it. She wanted to die. She wanted
relief. She wanted to be free from the guilt and fear and rejection
she felt. She was worthless and had no real reason to live. Her
vision blurred and something flashed brightly in her mind. She felt
the razor sharp edge of the blade touching her wrist and then the
pressure as her hand began to push downward.
"No!" trumpeted the powerful voice from the depth of eternity.
The word crashed through into her brain like a javelin striking its
target. The knife fell away and clattered to the floor. Her hands
flew out and grabbed for the edge of the counter as she sank to her
knees. She leaned her forehead against the coolness of the edge of
the counter top as the rest of her strength drained away. She had
heard God's voice stopping her from certain death but she wasn't
crying now because of what she had almost done; she was crying because
the Lord's voice never seemed to come to her at any other time.
Passing out, she slid to the kitchen floor. Her husband found
her the next morning in the same position a small pool of blood
beneath her wrist.
COMMENTS ON REJECTION
One would think rejection to be conspicuous and pretty easily
identified. Yet it can be as diverse and as subtle as fear. It comes
in many shapes and colors and frankly is quite amorphous most of the
time. In short, it is very easy for us to be fooled by rejection and
never even realize it has occurred. It also is easily used to tap
into the fear we already have about ourselves.
It is most commonly experienced during our younger years. After
all, we all like to belong to the group. The problem is, it never
seems to go away as we grow older. In fact, we never do grow out of
it but it just changes shapes and is harder to recognize. Sometimes
we end up doing anything to be accepted and not rejected.
In the late sixties, I began using LSD and other drugs, although
I was a Christian, because I wanted to be accepted. I wanted friends
and the people that showed the most interest in me were those in my
high school who did drugs.
When I lost my sight at 11 years of age, I experienced various
forms of rejection. Some I have detailed in my autobiography which is
titled "Liquid Purple."
The real first time I experience rejection that had the kick of a
mule was when I was turned down by a church, due to my blindness, to
take the senior pastor's position. The pastor was leaving to begin a
new church in another mountain town. He even recommended me as his
replacement. I was told, however, they did not believe a blind person
could handle the job. They asked me to pastor the church, however,
until they could find another pastor. I did so and four months later,
I moved back to Denver.
That particular rejection was so powerful, it felt as if total
blackness and darkness had settled over me. My greatest desire was to
become a pastor and to care for people. I cared for these people, and
they knew it, but now they were saying they didn't want me to care for
them. Depression was the least of my problems by this point. The
experience alone created spiritual and emotional trauma and I reacted
adversely to it.
Instead of getting better, things grew worse. My own pastor back
in Denver came to my home and told me I had failed in the ministry and
to stop trying to preach. More rejection. Furthermore, that same
pastor said I was "Out of the will of God." More rejection. Finding
a new job at that time to take care of my family was easier said than
done for a blind person. More rejection. Someone very close to me
had been supporting me for many years with a monthly offering. They
came to my house and announced they would no longer be supporting me
financially because I was no longer preaching. That next week I was
scheduled for three weeks of meetings and told them so. They didn't
care about that; they just were there to inform me I would no longer
be supported financially by them. More rejection.
We are totally unawares of the accumulative effects of such
experiences and events in our lives. Later, as in my story found in
Chapter 3, other events trigger memories and the pain is tapped and
out it comes. Often anger is used to mask the feelings of rejection
so we think we have a problem with anger. Sometimes sadness is an
emotion that attempts to bury feelings of rejection. Loneliness is
used to filter us from rejection. Becoming the most dedicated
Christian on the planet is often another method used to hide
rejection. Never saying no is another form of protectiveness from the
pain of rejection. It all decays into depression of some form or
another. The truth is, we just want to be liked by somebody for who
we are. Of course, there is somebody like that but He doesn't count.
So, for most, the devil tries taking His place in our lives and we
suffer even more for it.
End Of Chapter 3
Go To: Chapter 4 - Inferiority
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