Unwanted and Unwelcome

Faulty Identity

From my seat on the floor, I investigated the pattern of the dirtied paper plates scattered around the elegantly furnished living room. I shifted my attention from the plates to the circle of men surrounding me, each sitting in his designated chair, and wondered if they noticed me on the rug below. After all, I had only secured my place on the corner of the rug by way of the “girlfriend pity invite.” There was one other woman in the room, and she sat poised on an armrest, in all of her belonging as a wife.

I studied each of their faces—they were lost in a discussion about philosophy well beyond me—and took note of their grand collective. They each had mastered the ability to speak without really encountering the person he was speaking to and to stand next to someone without being close to him. I longed to lock eyes with one of them and for him to ask me what I thought, but no one did.

The Aristotelian debate waged on around me. How was I embedded in a friend group that did not understand me? My then boyfriend and his philosophy buddies always gathered in an intellectual space I was not invited to, and one I realized I did not wish to enter. The exclusion I experienced at the hand of these “intellectuals” steadily reinforced false ideas about my identity. I desperately wanted this group to care for me and be curious about me, and when they didn’t and weren’t, I subsequently blamed myself for being lonely on the corner rug.

Since I do not feel comfortable, I must be irrational. Since they do not ask questions, my story must be unremarkable. Since I am on the floor, I must be unwanted and unwelcome. Since I feel lonely, I must be overly emotional. These lies dictated my narrative for so long that I forgot what my own experience was. It took being fully rejected by this friend group to start excavating the roots of these premises and to start asking why I had allowed the exclusive behavior of others to place doubt on the worth of my story.

After all, my story is worthwhile.

Perhaps there is an instance in which someone made you feel as though your presence was not important or wanted. Perhaps you have taken on blame for the way others have excluded you. Perhaps you have wrongfully internalized this experience as your identity. Call to mind the full weight of that memory, recalling the lies and the false narrative you adopted about your identity, and ask yourself, does this experience offer any insight into who I really am?

Sister, your identity as a beloved daughter of God is not contingent on how others treat you. The Lord delights in you and accepts you. He yearns for an eternity with you.

In this week’s scripture, Jesus said, “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Luke 12:34). When we believe lies about who we are—that we are not worthy or do not matter—we choose a treasure that does not feed our hearts. We become familiar with these lies, gripping them tightly in self-defense, thinking they are the truth.

Yet Jesus comes close to you and me and asks us to trade our lies for His life-giving treasure. Jesus offers us nothing short of a forever love. When we choose to bind ourselves to Truth as the ultimate treasure, we find ourselves reconciled with our true identity as the beloved.

Sister, this is the gold worth keeping and where we want our hearts to be.

Reflection Questions

• Have you felt unseen or unaffirmed by people in your life? Take any instance of this suffering to the Lord for comfort.
• Forever love is your inheritance. Can you accept this idea that Jesus and God and the Holy Spirit love you beyond your imagination?