The Sacredness of a Story
Out of nowhere the words came out of his mouth–slicing the air. She cowered a little lower at each blow. Not a physical blow, but harsh, hurtful, surprising, and unsettling words. By the time he finished his speech, she was a pile of stunned brokenness on the floor.
What just happened, she wondered?
Where did all that even come from, she thought?
For hours she played back the words he had spoken, trying to wrap her head around it.
It was devastating.
So what was it?
It’s what our culture fondly, or not so fondly, refers to as a break up. The ending of a relationship. Rejection in the rawest form.
I watched this scene unfold in front of me one Friday afternoon not so long ago. The girl, who shall not be named, is one of my heroes. I didn’t know it at the time, but as the hours turned into days, and days into weeks, I witnessed an incredible journey of a broken heart finding wholeness again.
You would think after 20 plus years of a healthy marriage, with four decades of growth and wisdom on all things “relationship” tucked in the recesses of my mind, that this break up I witnessed wouldn’t affect me the way it has. But my goodness, rejection has a way of rearing its ugly head in profound ways.
It was as if I was suddenly back in those younger days again. Those days when life didn’t come with a ton of responsibility. Heartache seemed miles away. And the hopes of a beautiful relationship with Mr. Perfect was mine to hold onto. But then, rejection would show up. The pain. The heartache. The self-doubt. All of it. In one fell swoop that sting, that unforgettable sting hits, and you are down for the count.
It’s not easy to get over the pain of rejection. In fact, I believe that a small piece of life’s rejections takes up residence in a part of our souls and camps out there for years to come.
But here’s the difference from when I faced relationship rejection in my younger years. There wasn’t this monster called social media. There wasn’t this fear of everyone, and I truly mean everyone, having a front row sit to every piece of the painful story as it unfolds moment by moment.
Whether it’s on your story, his snap, that tweet, it seems it’s everywhere stirring up painful emotions and memories. And don’t forget the sweet little apps that remind us daily of pictures taken one year, two years, or ten years ago. Reminders everywhere, for all time and eternity.
Where is the sacredness I wonder? The sacredness of walking through pain without the world looking on? We don’t mind people seeing the end of the story, when everything has been figured out and glued back together, with a nice ribbon on top. But the painful chapters? No way! No one should be invited into that part of the story.
Or should they?
You know the Bible is full of stories, some painful, some not. It doesn’t read like an Instagram newsfeed, but it gives glimpses into the lives of ordinary people who encountered an extraordinary God in the midst of their story. And here’s what’s interesting. There were witnesses all around to record these God stories. Two thousand years later we get to read about the pain, the sin, the victories, and the miracles of ordinary people like you and me. If you’re not reading the Bible, you really should give it a try.
So as this painful chapter of rejection closes, the heroine should feel pretty good about herself. She’s handled this journey with honesty, integrity, grace and dignity. She’s held her head high when other onlookers wanted to see her crumble under the weight of it all. God is penning a story that is beautiful, messy, and sacred. Sacred not only to her and the lessons she’s learning, but sacred to those who look on and watch a big God doing His thing.
