By Jessica Lindsey

After my divorce, a spirit of rejection gripped me hard. I did not feel lovable and began building walls to protect myself from deeper hurt. I began avoiding new relationships, minimizing the time I spent with people I already knew. Relationships meant risking I could be further rejected at some point – I could not swallow one more ounce of it.

The divorce was a final devastating blow that shattered me, but my foundation was already cracked. I had a lack of trust in people from early on, and often felt rejected and insecure in my formative years, unsure whether my parents loved me or not. Born the middle child, a brunette between two buttery blonds, I was neither the protected youngest nor the preferred eldest, often not invited to play with my siblings. In school, I was the last picked for sports events, belittled by classmates, and never taken out on a date.

Was any of this rejection my fault? Some of it, surely. But I believe the enemy begins to strategize against us from our birth, planting seeds of rejection, framing us as unlovable. He continues his assaults until we believe ourselves to be unlovable.

I felt rejected by my husband before we even married, with more layers of hurt piling on throughout that relationship. Even though I was the one who did the leaving, the sense that my rejection was final landed with the divorce papers. Worse still, I perceived myself as rejected by the church and society because of divorce stigma and chronic singledom. It was like being among the ancient lepers of Israel, exiled by the community, waiting for someone to have mercy. The prospect of ever becoming loved by a regular man at any point in the future seemed impossible. I doubted at times that God could even love me, as ruined as I was.