As I look back at the last few posts here, I see a pattern. I’m often pretty good at reflection and seeing patterns, the problem is that I don’t always adjust to them. The last few posts have been pretty similar: rejection, failure, attacks. Today, it doesn’t feel like it’s going away. It feels like it’s just getting stronger every day.

Rejection is a real thing. Whether that’s a self imposed feeling we have or whether there is truth to it is different for each person. There is almost always an element of self-perception that can be misguided in there, too. I happened to be writing this post when my other computer went on screen saver. The screen saver that came up was of the California Kelp Forest. If you don’t have a macOS device or want to see if without messing with screen savers, click this YouTube link. In that coming up, I just felt this gut-punch and I stared at it for a few moments. That’s a pretty massive forest. There are hundreds of fish just swimming along in their own way. God feeds them, “clothes” them, and provides safety until their time is up and they die. Whether their death is to feed another immediately or to decay over time and feed smaller plant life in the ocean, their death is not in vain. It is a part of their life map to serve in a bigger way.

Interestingly enough, this really got me to thinking about all of the closed doors I’ve been hitting lately. All of my normal “stuff” I do and ways I have served are coming to an end and I couldn’t figure out why. My mom would tell you that God is telling me to stand still and listen. I would tell you my mom always tells me that and complains about all the stuff I do. (Sorry, mom…I know your intentions are good!) But, she’s not entirely wrong. While we spread ourselves thin (not just me, but my husband too), pulling back can be good. It can make room for the things that God wants to show us, or more importantly for the places God really needs us.

My heart has been in being “busy.” How having little time to “think” has kept me from focusing on the fact that my cancer is very real and that there are some really deep-rooted fears there. So in an effort to mask all my feelings of worthlessness, I have made myself so busy that I give myself no time to think about these things and don’t have to deal with the thoughts. That was until recently. This stuff has slowly been bubbling up to the top. I had my first psychologist visit with the oncology psychologist who “evaluated” my case and she agreed to take me on. Honestly, I feel like that’s just their job and they just say that because why would they turn down money? But at the end of the evaluation, she setup some more calls and told me she was adding “mild/moderate depression” to my chart and didn’t want me to be alarmed at the label. Was I bothered by it? Nope. I just got off the call and went right back to work. I didn’t have time to let it bother me or even really sink in because it’s just a medical term they put in a chart and it doesn’t mean anything to me. In my opinion, it was one more hurdle to overcome and my attitude at that point was, “Fine, I’ll fix it. I’ll get more organized and I’ll act less depressed or find a different way to answer the questions so that I can focus on my self and understand what’s broken.” I immediately tackled it as a project.

The problem there is that I don’t think God wanted me to look at it as a project. And that kelp video reminded me why. Because I’m a fish. Because there is a huge world around me and the words I say, the lives I touch around me (or swim by) have an impact on the many other fish floating by. My sickness can impact others in ways I didn’t intend for it to. Whether that’s my physical ailments or the mental issues I’m dealing with at the moment that I am not even acknowledging in my own headspace.

Do I feel rejected? Yes. By people? Sure. By God – all the time. Do I care what people think? Oh y’all, I want to answer a resounding no followed by a middle finger, but deep down, that’s just a lie I tell myself. And if you’re reading this, you’re likely in the same space and either ready to admit it – or not. There’s no middle ground.

Do I care what God thinks? Beyond measure. Do I still fall under this stupid notion that I can buy my way into Heaven with works? Sometimes the devil wants me to believe that, but I know better and my heart knows better. God reminds me of this truth often. When I think there aren’t any seats left in Heaven for me, God reminds me I’ll be there, one day. That all of these trials and hardships along the way were for a purpose. That none of this is without His approval and that He has aligned my path, just as He had aligned Job when he gave the devil permission to put Job to the heat.

Prayer is hard. It’s really hard when you go to God and realize that 90% of the time you’re talking to God you’re asking for forgiveness because you make stupid human decisions in the moment of your flesh. You spend all your time wiping away tears knowing God hears you and knows your heart, but you still can’t bring yourself to grovel at His feet anymore because you keep wondering if He’s tired of hearing it.

But, that’s the beauty of a God who loves us. Seven times seventy seven, right? Infinite. “Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.” (Matthew 18:22)

But in this, the world and the devil doesn’t want this. The devil, the world (his playground, his territory, his palace) wants me to shell up, to be angry, to take my ball and go home. The world wants me to throw in the towel and angrily say, “Fine, do it yourself.”

And maybe that’s how I’ve looked at some of these doors closing. “Fine, do it yourself.” That’s what’s been hard. Rejection. Feeling like this is/was a personal slap at me in the work I have done so far. In that I didn’t try hard enough, didn’t do it well enough, or couldn’t bring enough to the table. Doors closing made me feel rejected, unworthy, hated, unloved, and undervalued. Exactly where the devil wanted me.

Do not confirm to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind (Romans 12:2).

Instead, God turned this on its heels today. As I watched that video today, I was reminded that it’s not my sickness that rubs off as I float by (while that is truth), but it is the positive impact I have on others as I swim by. It is the light I can bring into a room, the value I bring to a table. Not all areas need me. God is showing me this. But the doors that are open are the ones where God needs to me to speak softly, to show love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. (Galatians 5:22-23).

Anger is a human emotion. Jesus entered the temple courts and drove out all who were buying and selling there. He overturned the tables of the money changers and the benches of those selling doves. (Matthew 21:12). Jesus Himself came to earth and experienced anger many times. Walking into a temple and literally flipping tables. While I think Jesus would be okay with me flipping tables sometimes, the difference between me and Jesus (besides the obvious) is that my intention in flipping tables is more shock and awe versus genuine impact as Jesus did. Being a bull in a China shop is not what Jesus is going for and more times than not, I forget God can fight His own battles. Despite being over the entire universe, He really doesn’t need my (or your!) help. (Shock, I know.)

God has opened a door for me several times and I’ve continually said “No, thanks, I can’t.” Time has always stood in front of me. Perhaps now He is showing me “time” isn’t the excuse. That I have made excuse after excuse and He’s showing me that’s not the problem. My own personal follow-through and commitment is the problem. My own mind blocks and self-destruction is the issue. Instead of looking a forest in the ocean today, I looked at the single fish floating around. I looked at the single pieces of ocean material on a leaf. While I could see the vastness beyond it, what I really saw was the smaller things right in front of me that made up a much larger ocean. And then I realized that a single fish was part of something bigger – and God designed. And it was beautiful. It was perfect. And it didn’t need me to take care of all of it. I just needed to be the one fish and do my part and stop trying to manage all of the other fish. The kelp got along fine without the other fish helping. It grew tall, radiant, and beautifully, just as God intended.

Perhaps that’s the message. We all have a part. We don’t need to do everything. We just need to do what God asks us to do. To follow His plan and to recognize when we’re trying to manage the kelp that honestly, can’t be managed.