Rejection and Surrender: A Holy Saturday Lesson
“We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where our forerunner, Jesus, has entered on our behalf.”
On Holy Saturday a number of years ago, I sat in a Starbucks in Lake Placid, New York, contentedly journaling and reading, biding my time until I could pick us my ski racer son from the slopes. As I journaled, I thought of an old friend whom I knew had been going through a hard season. In my spirit, I heard the Lord say, “Tell her that I love her.” It seemed simple enough, and I'd heard it quite clearly, so I sent her a message to tell her I had been thinking about her, wanted her to know that I love her, and that she has a heavenly Father who loves her too.
The response was immediate, but it was not what I expected. Her words pierced my heart. I don't need you or your Santa Claus god. She went on to suggest that we should unfollow each other as she didn’t want to hear from me again.
Stunned, I chose to respond with a few words. I'm sorry I hurt you. That was not my intent, but I will honor your request. With tears clouding my vision. I packed up my journal and other belongings and trudged to the car. I spent the next twenty minutes in my car sobbing. What had I done wrong? I thought I had done what God asked. Eventually, I heard God's voice. “I know what it feels like to offer love and be rejected.” Oof!
“Jesus has experienced far greater rejection than I will ever be able to imagine.”
That put things into perspective. Jesus has experienced far greater rejection than I will ever be able to imagine. Though painful, my situation felt insignificant by comparison.
But I still wanted to know why he had me say that to her. Had I misunderstood? Jesus, what was that all about? He made it clear that she needed to hear it but was not in a place to receive it. He asked if I would entrust her to him.
The following morning, Easter Sunday, I went to the back of the church and lit three candles, one for the Father, one for the Son, and one for the Holy Spirit. I pictured my friend, and I imagined handing her over into the loving embrace of the Trinity. Through that act of surrender, I was able to forgive her and trust that God could heal what was broken in her heart as well as mine. His promise of resurrection was just as real for her as it was for me, but I couldn’t force her to accept it.
Today as I await Easter Sunday, I am reminded that we live in the in-between, the place where we are compelled to wait for the fullness of our redemption, the completion of our healing, and the reality of resurrection. It’s a tricky, and often painful, place to stand. But we are not without hope. We know that, even now, God is at work. Jesus has gone before us, and he is making all things new!
‘Sometimes healing comes by waving the white flag of surrender when everyone else is telling you to stay in the fight.’
