With a furrowed brow and curled lips, his chubby hand extracted the orange bite. A quick taste was all my 16-month old grandson needed to reach a verdict. Rejection.
I grabbed the small piece of cooked carrot before it landed on the floor where all rejected foods live. During meal time, I recognize the rejection process: distorted facial expression, retrieval of the food item, and a quick toss to the floor.
Last week, I experienced rejection just like the cooked carrot when an email popped up in my inbox.
“We received over 130 submissions this quarter, and we could only select 23 of them. We unfortunately won’t be able to share yours this time around.”
I snarled my lips and furrowed my brow. The yucky taste of rejection.
My overactive imagination pictured a team of editors distorting their faces, laughing wickedly, before throwing my submission on the floor. Like they tasted something yucky, something worse than a cooked carrot. Their words were kind and professional but I heard: “Your baby is ugly. Get it out of my sight.”
As I struggled through my rejection depression, I knew Jesus understood.
But first he must suffer many things and be rejected by this generation. Luke 17:25
By His rejection, I am accepted and free.
Free to rest in the Cornerstone, weave words, and offer carrots.