Aug 14

Aug 14 Rejection That Cuts Deep

I have come to believe that rejection and separation from your child is one of the most painful experiences to carry.

Seven months ago, my eldest son decided he could longer have any connection with his family. That night we were in shock, we didn’t get to ask the questions we wished we had before he left, and even now, still don’t really know why he chose this path.

I can still clearly remember the night he was born, the first moment I held him in my arms and knew he would have my heart forever. I never dreamt at that moment that he would ever truly reject me. Even as a ten-year-old he’d snuggle up next to me on the lounge, waiting for his back scratch; never once did I think this boy might walk away from me one day and not look back.

This kind of rejection is hard to carry; it is heavy and never leaves. There are days when I can think of him and remember special times together; just the funny things that happened to us as a family—the things that are a part of our everyday history but hold significance for our little tribe. Then there are the days that the heaviness is just so much; so hard to bear. When younger siblings cry and miss him, when the littlest one asks if he’s coming to her birthday party. Those are the moments when my chest literally hurts with grief; with missing him, like I’d miss a part of my body if it was gone. It feels like I’ve lost a son, yet somewhere out there he’s still living and breathing, but he doesn’t want us like we desperately want him.

As I’ve sat with this pain tonight, my thoughts have turned to the Lord. Consider for a moment how much we love, how much we give, how we do everything we can for our children’s well-being. Multiply that an infinite time over and we see the Father. Each precious person on this planet, in times gone by and in times to come—all created by God. All lovingly planned and purposed. Each one of them, knit together by an almighty hand in the womb of their mother.

And then a plan; a love story that unfolds through the passage of time. A plan that seeks restoration with a creation that has rejected their Creator. A creation that has decided to go their own way, that tries to live life on their own terms.

Every so often when I reflect on this, I think to myself, ‘What an undeserving bunch; what right do we even have to come back to God asking for acceptance and forgiveness?’ Yet, I know when my boy comes back to us one day, we will gather him in with open arms of love, acceptance, and forgiveness in a heartbeat! I long for that day, I imagine that day in my head!

How much more does the Lord do this for us? His capacity for love is much greater—it’s deeper, higher, and wider than we could even grasp. At the very same time that his love is so great—our rejection of him is so deep. He paid the greatest price to make a way for us. He gave his only Son so that we might live; so that we might be able to walk away from a life of rejection and brokenness. Oh, how his chest must hurt as the ones that he lovingly created walk away from him; that curse him; that deny his very existence. He longs to gather us in, to love and protect us under the shelter of his wings. He longs to show us his faithfulness and extend us grace and mercy in every possible way. Praise God that he is not like us, that he is not fickle in his love. He has a plan, and he has made a way.

Tonight I will take a deep breath, and although it still hurts, I choose to trust him; to trust that he has a plan, and he will make a way. Because he has always been faithful in the past, and I know I can trust him for my future—and for my son’s.