No one wants to hear “no” from God. Some nos are smaller, their pain short-lived; others are huge, their consequences life-altering. We may face doubt, discouragement, and depression. This plan will help you find courage to step into a different life than the one you had planned, discovering that when God says, “no,” your story isn’t over.
Barbour Publishing
Day 1
Scriptures: Psalms 103:1-14, Psalms 139:1-16
When God Says, “No”
My daughter’s eyes behind her Wonder Woman mask are bright with tears. “The lady over there wouldn’t give me candy,” she says, her voice warmly. “She was mean for no reason!”
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” I find myself shooting rather unrighteous angry looks at the stranger across the lawn. We don’t know these people or this neighborhood; we are at a fall festival with friends, all of us new to town. I hug my girl close, hoping her whole night isn’t tainted.
Fast-forward a few weeks. My daughter—today she’s head-to-toe princess for no other reason than it’s Thursday, and why not be royal?—runs up to me.
“Mommy, can I have some candy?” She gives her eyebrows a hopeful wiggle.
“No, honey, you’ve already had enough sugar today.”
Mild disappointment flicks across her face, but she doesn’t argue—just sighs then sashays back to the playroom, her kingdom.
In both these situations, my daughter’s quest for candy got a no. The first no was hurtful and cast a cloud over her entire evening; the second no was no big deal, a momentary disappointment. What was the difference? The difference was in who said no.
The first no came from a harsh stranger with an unkind spirit; the second came from a trusted family member who had her best interests at heart. The first no felt painful, arbitrary; the second was understandable, even necessary. It was all about who was saying no.
Think about how we read the phrase: When God says, “No.” Our eyes go straight to the no, don’t they? We unconsciously read it like this: When God says, “NO!” All caps. Bold letters. Angry voice.
But what if we changed the emphasis? What if we read it like this: When GOD Says, “No?” Because who the no comes from makes all the difference. No from a cranky candy hoarder is different than no from a loving parent. No from a stranger is different than no from a friend. Psalm 103 describes our God, our Father and Friend, like this: “The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love” (v. 8).
Compassionate.
Gracious.
Slow to anger.
Abounding in love.
That’s the kind of God who draws us close: a kind God. A God who shows us a Father’s love, a forever love—even when He tells us no.
Day 2
Scriptures: John 11:32-44, Psalms 34:17-18
When God Hurts with You
When life knocks us down and tramples us under a thousand stampeding feet, we need to know that God doesn’t desire this pain for us. He isn’t up in heaven indifferent—or worse, secretly gloating.
In my mind, no moment depicts this truth more poignantly than when Jesus stood with Mary and Martha outside the tomb of their brother, Lazarus. When Lazarus fell ill, Jesus could have rushed to heal His friend—but instead He intentionally delayed His coming.
When Jesus finally arrived, several days too late, He met the mourning sisters at the tomb. Jesus already had the happy ending planned. He knew that in mere minutes, He would call Lazarus back to life. The sisters’ cries of mourning would turn to shouts of praise.
And yet. With all that joy only moments away, Jesus stopped. He stood there beside—I always picture Him between—these two sisters, and He wept with them.
I’ve heard people speculate all kinds of profound reasons for Jesus’s tears. Why would Jesus cry, knowing He was about to raise Lazarus from the dead? There must be more to the tears than empathy: Jesus must have been weeping for the lost world, or mourning His own impending suffering.
In my view, those theories are trying too hard—way too hard. I suspect it’s as simple as this: Jesus’s friends were hurting, so Jesus was hurting. In His tears, I hear these words: “I’m sorry I had to let you go through this. I see your anguish, and My heart bleeds with yours.” It didn’t matter that the pain was almost over—the pain still mattered.
Do you see what this means? Jesus hurts with us. Even if He has a happy ending planned for later, He hurts with us today—right here, right now, wherever we are: on the floor or in the car, at a playground or a restaurant, beside a hospital bed or a gravestone. He stands in our present-tense pain and lives it with us—stands with us, weeps with us, mourns with us because our pain is real, and our pain is His pain.
Now that’s love. That’s a God I can trust when I’m hurting. That’s a God I can pray to when life goes sideways. That’s a God I can lean on even when He doesn’t give me what I ask. That’s a God I can cling to even when He says, “No.”
Day 3
Scriptures: John 16:33, Isaiah 43:1-5, Hebrews 10:32-37
You’re in Good Company
Let’s consider a few people in scripture who heard “no” from God:
- Joseph didn’t get rescued from slave traders.
- Moses didn’t get to enter the Promised Land.
- Naomi didn’t get to grow old with her husband and sons.
- David didn’t get to build the temple.
- Paul didn’t get relief from his thorn.
- Jesus wasn’t spared the cross.
When we study their stories, we realize that their lives were difficult and often disappointing, just like ours. With the exception of Jesus, they all made mistakes, just like we do. Did God not love these people? Of course He did! But we see that their circumstances did not always directly reflect how much God loved them. The answers to their prayers did not necessarily indicate His approval (or disapproval). The status of their dreams did not reflect His faithfulness. Their daily happiness was not a barometer measuring the strength of His affection.
For each of these people, life changed. It fell apart, reformed, reset. But God’s love never changed. God’s love was the one constant in their ever-fluctuating circumstances. It was the solid ground beneath life’s shifting sands.
Listen to this promise God made to His people: “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel….Do not be afraid, for I am with you” (Isaiah 43:2-3, 5).
God doesn’t say, “If you pass through the waters. . .if you walk through the fire. . .;” He says “when.”
When you walk through financial disaster.
When you endure a health crisis.
When you lose someone you love.
“In this world you will have trouble,” Jesus said. (Not might have trouble—will have trouble.) “But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).
What peace comes when we understand that God loves us through life’s storms. What relief we feel when we realize that our circumstances don’t reflect His approval. Then we can simply hurt without the added miseries of guilt, shame, blame, mistrust, and distance. We can take our pain to God, confident that He hurts with us, knowing He is the safe place for all our tears.
Day 4
Scriptures: 2 Kings 5:9-15, Ephesians 4:11-16
When You Need to Embrace Vulnerability
In 2 Kings 5 we meet Naaman, a powerful leader with a terrible problem: he had leprosy. When an Israeli servant girl suggested Naaman seek healing from Elisha, a Jewish prophet, Naaman had a decision to make: humble himself and take her advice, or keep going his own way? And then when Naaman met with Elisha, he didn’t like the prophet’s advice. Once more Naaman had to humble himself.
When God says, “No,” we may find ourselves in a position like Naaman’s: a position of need. A position in which we have a problem we cannot fix for ourselves. And when God says, “No,” we may need God and His people to see us through. Of course, we’d rather God do the helping with His own hands, right? We don’t want to be a burden to other people. But God often sends us comfort through humble human hands. And accepting help from other people can be uncomfortable, embarrassing, even painful.
Our wise Father envisioned a church family where we would all meet one another’s needs—giving what we can and receiving what we need. Paul described the interplay God desires like this: “He has given each one of us a special gift through the generosity of Christ. . . . He makes the whole body fit together perfectly. As each part does its own special work, it helps the other parts grow, so that the whole body is healthy and growing and full of love” (Ephesians 4:7, 16 NLT).
If you struggle to accept help when you are hurting, I hope you’ll consider a new perspective: when you gratefully accept kindness from others, you are actually giving something. You are giving other Christians an opportunity to honor God with their gifts. When you are vulnerable, you allow other people to fulfill their God-given roles. To use their gifts.
Let’s take a lesson from Naaman, a strong, capable person who suddenly needed to embrace advice and generosity from others: letting people give to you doesn’t mean you are a “needy” person. And even if you do have a season or seasons when you need more help and encouragement than usual, know this: being needy for a time is not wrong. Being needy for a season is not burdensome. We all have times when we need. Your turn to give will come around again, and when it does you’ll be able to give with your whole heart, remembering the grace you yourself have received from God and His people.
Day 5
Scriptures: Psalms 73:21-26, Ruth 1:6-22, Ruth 4:13-17
When Life Has Made You Bitter
The book of Ruth introduces us to Naomi, a woman who suffered loss beyond the reach of words: her husband and both sons died before their time, leaving Naomi homeless and impoverished, alone in a foreign land. She renamed herself Mara, meaning “bitter,” saying, “The Almighty has made my life very bitter… the Almighty has afflicted me.”
Maybe Naomi’s words echo your heartbeat. You’re here, but your heart’s not in it—you’re just hanging on till the end comes sitting in a pit, neck-deep in the ashes of your old life. Maybe you aren’t yet ready—or able—to climb out of your pit. But, my friend, I pray the day comes when you are ready—ready to come back to life, leaving bitterness where it belongs—down in the pit with the ashes.
How do we let go of bitterness when its claws have sunk into our hearts? Let’s draw some lessons from Naomi.
First, consider viewing your suffering a different way. Naomi’s grief was apparently compounded by the separation she felt from God. If you feel that God Himself has singled you out for suffering—condemned you to loneliness, then abandoned you Himself—what is left but bitterness? But Lamentations 3 tells us, “He does not willingly bring affliction and grief to anyone.” God is not out to hurt you—He is hurting with you.
Second, look for God’s fingerprints. God’s loving fingerprints were all over Naomi’s life, but for a while, she couldn’t see them. God had given Naomi a devoted daughter-in-law, Ruth, to care for her, but at first, Naomi hardly seemed to notice (see Ruth chapter 1). Look around. Do you see evidence of God’s kindness shining through the gloom? Has He given you a Ruth to see you through? Maybe your “Ruth” isn’t a person—maybe it’s a financial mercy or some other physical provision—but what has God provided to keep you from withering in your pit? Has He lowered a rope you can grab hold of?
Once you start looking, I suspect you’ll be staggered by the evidence of God’s work in your life. He is not far away, as you may have feared. He is not aloof, as you may have felt. You may not see His face or even His hands as they perform their secret works, but His fingerprints are all over your life, just as they were all over Naomi’s. Even when she was Mara—even when she was bitter.
Day 6
Scriptures: Matthew 26:36-38, 2 Corinthians 1:3-7
When You Need to Open Up
When God says, “No,” our hurts may be invisible. We need encouragement, but people can’t encourage us if they don’t know we are hurting. And it can take courage to tell people what’s going on.
When my husband and I suffered a miscarriage, at first I talked openly about it because—well, I had no choice. I was grieving so hard, I couldn’t hide it. And for a while, friends often asked me how I was doing. But as life resumed the appearance of normalcy, I was still mourning, but people stopped asking. They hadn’t forgotten; they weren’t being callous; they just didn’t know if it was okay to bring it up anymore. Would asking me how I was feeling send me into a tailspin? They didn’t know what to do—or what I needed. I was still hurting, still needing to talk, but no one knew it.
Grief is tricky. Grief is unpredictable. Grief looks different on everyone. It can be difficult to know what grieving people—even the people we love most and know best—need. Sometimes people need permission, maybe even an invitation—to support us.
I remembered how Jesus invited friends into His heartache on the night of His arrest. He asked friends to pray with Him, and He shared the severity of His anguish: “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me” (Matthew 26:38). Inspired by Jesus’s example, I wrote an email to my closest friends, saying, “I know you are probably afraid to ask me about my miscarriage—you are trying to be sensitive, and I appreciate that so much. But. . . I still need to talk about this. This is me, giving you permission to ask how I’m doing. You won’t make me upset—you’ll give me an opportunity to process, and I still need that opportunity.”
Within minutes, I got back multiple responses—relieved responses, grateful responses. Everyone had been wondering how I was doing, but they’d been unsure if it was okay to ask. Sending this email not only initiated the healing conversations I still needed to have, but it also protected my heart from feeling hurt.
The enemy loves to whisper doubts that undermine our relationships: Why isn’t anyone asking how I’m doing? Does anyone care? When we share our needs with others, it protects us from harboring secret expectations, and it gets our needs out in the open. It allows us to receive the support we need as we mourn and heal.
I bet you have a person or two who would be honored to keep watch with you. . .to listen. . .to serve. . .to do whatever you need. They just need an invitation. They just need you to open up.
Day 7
Scriptures: Psalms 90:13-17, Psalms 126
When There’s Life After “No”
If you are still breathing, then your story isn’t over. Your final no—“You have no days left here on earth”—has not been spoken. And today’s devotion is to assure you that there can be life after no. I say there can be, not there will be, because how you live your “after no”—whether you fully live your life after no—is up to you. There can be life after no, but you have to choose to live it.
There’s no rush. You may need to sit in your no for a time, grieving, remembering. It’s hard work, grief. It’s sleepless nights and anguished prayers. It’s red eyes and a tired heart. But it’s necessary.
But one day (how soon we cannot say), your grief won’t be over (is grief ever “over”?), but it will be. . .in a resting place. A place where you can tuck it gently into a box in a corner of your heart, and you won’t have to open the box every day. Some days you’ll pull it out, relive the memories, feel the pain spring up once more, but most days you’ll be able to leave it there while you go on living.
I can’t answer all the when questions—or even the how questions—but I can tell you this: if you are still alive, then God still has life in store for you. Relationships. Blessings. Even joy. Our God specializes in surprising turns and second acts. Consider what He did for some of the Bible characters we’ve met this week: Naaman eventually found healing—and faith in the true God. Naomi moved past bitterness and held an adopted grandson in her arms. Jesus conquered the grave.
Moses, who spent forty years wandering in the desert, once asked God, “Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us, for as many years as we have seen trouble” (Psalm 90:15). Moses knew that when God says no, there can be life, and even joy, on the other side of the heartache.
Finding your footing in that life takes faith, courage, and time. The point is not that you live happily ever after, fairy-tale style—but that you live. That you open your door, blink in bright sun, and take a few steps out into the world. Every day you walk a few steps farther. Who knows what God has in store for you down the road? Perhaps He will surprise you, even amaze you. Maybe God has said no to one thing. . .but He’s saying yes to something else. Maybe God has said no to one dream. . .but He’s sparking a new one in your heart. One of these days you may step outside and find yourself joyful again. Hopeful again. Dreaming again.
Yes, your life after no will be different from the life you had imagined, the one you had wanted, but it will still be a life worth living. And that’s no small thing.