There was a time in my life when saying “no” felt almost impossible.
Growing up as a people pleaser, I learned to measure my worth by acceptance. I feared rejection, feared disappointing others, feared no longer belonging. To be wanted felt safe. To be approved felt valuable. So I became the kind of person who would say “yes” even when my heart was weary.
But one day, God led me into a painful lesson through a single word: No.
It was an ordinary morning after my devotions with Jesus. My heart was calm and at peace as I opened my email. There, I saw a message about a board decision that required a simple yes-or-no vote by email.
As I read it, something inside me was troubled.
“How can such an important decision be made this way?” I thought. “Why is there no discussion? No prayer together? No opportunity to understand the full story?”
I tried to voice my concern, but the process had already been set. There seemed to be no interest in further discussion and time on the matter. Responses were being collected quickly, and people were voting without truly knowing the background behind the matter.
And so, with trembling hands and a heavy heart, I said, “No.” It was one of the hardest things I had ever done.
Not because I wanted conflict. Not because I desired division. But because deep inside, it felt unfair. After years of sacrifice, service, prayer, and labor for this organization, it suddenly felt as though none of it mattered; I didn’t really matter.
Questions flooded my heart:
Was I ever truly valued?
Did all those years mean nothing?
Was I only important when I agreed?
I tried reaching out afterward, calling those who had voted “yes.” As we spoke, many admitted they had not fully understood the story behind the decision. When I explained my concerns, they finally understood why I had voted differently.
But by then, it was too late. The decision was final.
No discussion. No questions. That was it.
And suddenly, my world seemed to collapse.
I remember lying awake with thoughts crashing into my mind:
You are not loved. You are unwanted. You are useless.
You are nothing.
The pain was crushing.
So I did the only thing I knew to do: I ran to Jesus.
“Lord, please help me. Please redeem me. Please save me from these thoughts.”
At times, heaven felt silent.
Days passed, and the heaviness in my chest only grew stronger. I sought prayer from people around me. Some were there for me, but some whom I thought cared deeply seemed absent. The feelings of abandonment and rejection deepened.
Again and again, I cried out:
“Lord Jesus, please take this pain away.”
Night after night, I opened the Scriptures searching for comfort, for deliverance, for understanding. And though the answers did not come immediately, Jesus never left me. Sometimes His presence came quietly through peace. Sometimes through tears. Sometimes through the gentle comfort of Psalm 119, which seemed to wrap itself around my broken heart.
Then one day, someone sent me a message meant to help:
“You have bitterness. You have unforgiveness. Read these verses and prayers that could help.”
But instead of comfort, I felt wounded even more deeply. Every accusation echoed loudly in my heart. It felt as though the enemy himself was whispering condemnation over me.
You are bitter. You are unloved. You are rejected.
The pain intensified.
Once more I fell before Jesus.
“Lord, please deliver me from these lies. Please help me.” And then, God gently led me to Luke 22.
There I saw Jesus in Gethsemane.
I saw the Savior surrounded by sorrow and betrayed by one of His own disciples. Abandoned by friends He loved deeply. Facing anguish so intense that “His sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground” (Luke 22:44).
Yet before His betrayal, Jesus spoke tenderly to Peter:
“Simon, Simon, behold, Satan demanded to have you, that he might sift you like wheat, but I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail.”
Luke 22:31–32 (ESV)
In that moment, I realized something profound:
Jesus understood my pain completely.
He understood what it meant to love deeply and still be misunderstood. He understood what it felt like to stand alone. He understood betrayal, rejection, silence, sorrow, and anguish.
And yet in Gethsemane, Jesus showed us how to suffer faithfully. He was intimate with His Father.
“And He withdrew from them about a stone’s throw, and knelt down and prayed.”
Luke 22:41 (ESV)
He was honest about His struggle.
“Father, if You are willing, remove this cup from Me…”
Luke 22:42 (ESV)
And He was humble in His surrender.
“…Nevertheless, not My will, but Yours, be done.”
Luke 22:42 (ESV)
Jesus did not hide His pain. He brought it fully before the Father. That realization changed me.
I began to
understand that God was not condemning me for saying “no.” Rather, He was teaching
me that obedience is not always
found in pleasing people. Sometimes faithfulness requires
courage. Sometimes love requires
honesty. Sometimes healthy relationships and healthy ministry involve disagreement.
Most importantly, I learned that my worth was never dependent on the approval of people.
My identity was always secure in Christ.
Looking back now, I see that God allowed me to walk through that painful season so I could better understand Jesus’ heart. The crushing nights, the feelings of abandonment, the wrestling in prayer—all of it brought me closer to Him.
And perhaps many of us are walking through similar seasons today.
There may come moments when people disappoint us. Moments when those we love misunderstand us. Moments when the enemy fills our minds with lies, accusations, and despair.
But when those moments come, we must remember Jesus. We must hold tightly to Him in prayer.
Because the same Savior who walked through betrayal also walked out in victory.
The same Savior who wept in Gethsemane rose again in triumph. And the same Savior who prayed for Peter is still praying for us today. So let us become people like Jesus:
intimate with the Father, honest in our struggles, and humble in surrender.
May we not run from God in our pain, but run toward Him.
And may every sorrow, every rejection, and every difficult “no” draw us deeper into the presence of Christ.
A Call to Prayer
Today, perhaps your heart feels heavy. Perhaps you carry wounds from rejection, betrayal, misunderstanding, or disappointment. Perhaps the enemy has whispered lies over your identity and your worth.
Do not carry those burdens alone. Come to Jesus.
The Savior who knelt in Gethsemane understands your pain. The Savior who prayed for His disciples is still interceding for you today.
Let us unite our hearts in prayer and cling to Him more deeply than ever before. In these difficult times, may we become a people who seek His presence above all else—a people anchored not by the approval of man, but by the love of Christ.
May we hold onto Jesus until peace overcomes fear, truth silences every lie, and His victory becomes our own.
“And being in agony He prayed more earnestly…”
Luke 22:44 (ESV)
