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Are You Afraid of Being Rejected?

Funny Story

A lunchtime exchange between two friends of mine:

Friend 1: What's so tough about asking a girl out?

Friend 2: What, you think it's easy?

Friend 1: No, I think it's terrifying. I mean, I'm all about extreme sports … And I would happily paddle myself in some kayak out into a raging hurricane. That would be fun — and easy, compared to asking a girl out.

Friend 2: Well, maybe it's because when the hurricane kills you, it's not really rejecting you. It's just what hurricanes do — nothing personal.

Not only did the conversation make me laugh, it got me thinking: Why do a lot of guys find the prospect of risking life and limb more appealing than initiating something (a date, courtship, whatever) with a girl he likes?

The pat answer is: Guys don't like rejection.

True enough. But what we really need to be asking ourselves is why we're so afraid of rejection. I think there's something deeper, more elemental — another reason we are afraid of taking relationship risks.

Maybe I'm just taking a stab in the dark, but I really think it's because, despite our Bible reading and highfalutin spirituality, we don't truly comprehend that we are sons of a God who actually, really loves us, and is loving us right now.

Instead, we find it much easier to define ourselves according to the whims of a finite young lady who may very well reject us (it's her prerogative, you know).

And so we go kayaking.

A Qualification

Now, please don't assume I'm advocating you go out and just start dating, all willy-nilly (yes, I just said "willy-nilly"). This article is predicated on the assumption that you're ready to be dating — which means you're ready, in my opinion, to be married in the very near future. The discussion hereafter is for those of you college-aged men who exhibit a degree of personal and spiritual maturity that lends itself to your dating and getting married. And especially for those of you in that subset of the population who find it exceedingly difficult to take the plunge and ask a girl out. This is for you.

So yes, I do believe there's hope. Let's take a look at two passages of Scripture — one that illustrates the perils of defining ourselves by what people (a girl, in particular) think of us, and one that helps us see ourselves from God's perspective — a perspective that allows us to take risks.

Not So Funny Story

Let's start in the New Testament. If you've read the book of Acts, you're probably familiar with the story of Ananias and Sapphira, members of the early church. Even though it's the direction this article is heading, their story is not about their DTR¹ at Lovers' Overlook, or their fairytale betrothal.

It's more about how God smote them.

In Acts 4:32-37 we read that members of the early church "who owned lands or houses sold them, brought the money from the sales and put it at the apostles' feet, and it was distributed to anyone as he had need" (vv. 34b-35, NIV). I know this seems a bit much to our modern, capitalist sensibilities. Sell things and give all the proceeds to the poor? Yep, you've got it.

Enter Ananias and Sapphira. They sold a piece of property too. Problem was, they gave only a portion of the selling price to the apostles, but claimed it was the entire amount.

From their perspective, it was a win-win situation: make people think they were über-spiritual and pocket some cash on the side. What could be better?

Well, nothing, except for the fact that God wouldn't stand for their trying to come off all pious. When Peter confronted them individually, asking each of them in turn if they had really given over all the proceeds from the sale of their property, they lied. Each fell dead and was buried within the hour.

Now, I realize this story is usually invoked during sermons on tithing and being honest, but I think it's a propos of the topic at hand. You see, even though Ananias and Sapphira were part of the early church, I don't think they truly understood God's love for them. If they had, they wouldn't have been concerned about keeping up with the Joneses. They would have understood that their worth didn't come from whether or not their fellow early church members thought they were spiritual and generous. They certainly wouldn't have lied to Peter about their gift. Unfortunately for them, God chose to make an example out of them.

Let's face it — we guys do the same sort of thing. Even though we say we know God loves us, we're not really acting like it — we don't take risks based on that love. Rather than initiating a godly relationship with a girl so we can serve and love her as Christ loved the Church, we sit back and twiddle our proverbial thumbs.²

Quite simply, because we don't understand the love God has for us, we have to look elsewhere. We place too much stock in the (likely vacillatory) opinions of that girl we've had our eye on. We're not likely to keel over as a result of our caring too much about what she thinks, of course, but there are consequences just the same: namely, our being selfishly passive and never committing to a relationship.

Psalm 139

So, we've mulled over what it looks like when we don't understand God's love for us. Now let's rewind to the Old Testament, to Psalm 139.

Save for some imprecatory-ish verses toward the end of the chapter (vv. 19-22), the entirety of the psalm communicates very clearly the intimate knowledge and care God has for each one of us.

I'm especially drawn to verses 13 through 16:

For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be.

Now sometimes, when I'm feeling especially sour or contrarian, these verses don't mean much to me. OK, so God knows every thing about me. Great — so would some stalker girl, if I had one.

Sometimes, though, I'm actually in tune with what the Holy Spirit is telling me. It's then I realize the utter intentionality with which God chose me to exist. He didn't play the spectator — He actively participated in my creation.

I think the authors of a book I read recently really capture the essence of these verses. They say that "if we have skin, if we have a heart that is beating and can touch and feel, then all this is because God has decided it would be so, because He wanted to include us in the story."³

Did you catch that? He wants to include us in His story. And not just some story that will last 80 years (if you're lucky), but the plot that's been unfolding since the beginning of time. He wanted us in on that.

Get Over Yourself

When you get a proper perspective on just how much God cares for you, a funny thing happens — you kind of get over yourself. You stop being self-absorbed, preoccupied with your own fears of what other people think of you (especially that pretty girl who totally laughed at your joke the other day in class). Instead, you start looking out for the interests of others. You actually start acting much more like a servant — the kind of man who is able to love and serve a young woman "just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her" (Ephesians 5:25).

C O F F E E  S H O P

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Why do you think guys are waiting to initiate romantic relationships?

Join the discussion!

Suddenly you no longer find your fear of rejection so crippling. You're actually able to initiate that relationship that up to this point you've been avoiding. All because you know you're a son of the most high God.

Oh, and going kayaking doesn't seem quite so enticing either.