Growing up, I believed that kindness would be reciprocated. I smiled at strangers, helped others when I could, and tried to make people feel seen and appreciated. I assumed that if I treated others well, they would treat me the same. But life doesn’t always play by those rules. One of the hardest lessons I’ve learned is that people can exclude you—not because of something you did, but simply because you don’t fit a particular mold.
Throughout my life, I’ve wrestled with social exclusion—from classmates who overlooked me to friends who slowly grew distant after an illness. At times, the message was clear and cutting: You’re not welcome here. This post is a reflection on those moments and a theological and psychological exploration of how social exclusion wounds us—and how God meets us in that pain.
Some of my earliest memories of exclusion came not from strangers, but from people I trusted—friends, classmates, even adults. I remember being passed over for roles in school productions, despite working hard and showing up with enthusiasm. I remember teachers who didn’t seem to see me. And perhaps most painfully, I remember returning to school after a serious illness only to find that my friend group had moved on without me.
One memory still stings. In middle school, a new student quickly became the center of attention. One day, she invited my entire friend group to her house. Everyone—except me. When I asked about it, no one was honest with me. They made excuses and gave me half-truths, but the message was clear: You don’t belong.
That experience taught me that exclusion doesn’t always announce itself—it can be subtle, even passive. And yet, the hurt cuts deep. Research backs this up. According to Naomi Eisenberger and Matthew Lieberman (2003), social exclusion activates the same part of the brain as physical pain: the anterior cingulate cortex. In other words, being left out literally hurts.
Kipling Williams, a leading social psychologist, explains this pain through his “temporal need-threat model.” He argues that exclusion threatens our core human needs: belonging, self-esteem, control, and meaningful existence. When these needs are violated, we often begin to ruminate—asking ourselves what we did wrong and whether we’re worthy of love or connection at all.
As I’ve reflected on my own experiences, I’ve noticed that exclusion often affects those who are different. Sometimes it’s about appearance, ability, or social standing. Other times it’s simply because people make assumptions without taking the time to understand.
Social theorists like Audre Lorde and Patricia Hill Collins help us name these patterns. Lorde, in her work on “the outlier,” describes how intersecting identities—such as race, gender, and sexuality—can compound exclusion. Collins’ concept of the “matrix of domination” explains how systems of privilege and oppression interact to determine who gets included and who doesn’t.
Social media promised connection. But for many—including myself—it has deepened the wounds of exclusion. One moment stands out. In high school, I auditioned for the choir. I was anxious but hopeful. After auditions, I checked Facebook and saw post after post from friends celebrating their acceptance. No one told me I hadn’t made it. I had to figure it out on my own, in the silence between the lines of their joy.
That wasn’t just a disappointing moment—it made me question my worth. Did my contributions not matter? Was I not good enough?
Research supports this experience. Nguyen, Kim, and Gil de Zúñiga (2020) found that digital exclusion—being left out of online conversations or groups—can be just as harmful as in-person exclusion. Similarly, Huang (2017) showed that social media increases opportunities for social comparison, which can damage self-esteem, especially for those already feeling insecure.
Social media doesn’t necessarily create exclusion, but it amplifies it. It becomes a mirror that reflects what we fear most: You’re not good enough. You’re not wanted.
As painful as exclusion has been in my life, God has met me in the middle of that pain. In John 15:18–19, Jesus says, “If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first… I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you.” These words remind me that rejection does not mean we are unworthy. If anything, it means we are walking closely with Christ—who himself was rejected.
Miroslav Volf, in his book Exclusion and Embrace, argues that Christian reconciliation requires both justice and grace. He challenges us to embrace those who are different, even those who have wronged us. This doesn’t mean ignoring the pain of exclusion—but it means choosing forgiveness and inclusion over bitterness and retaliation.
I’ve tried to live into that calling. Instead of pushing others away—something I was tempted to do in return—I’ve learned to be intentional about welcoming people into my life. God doesn’t want us to live in cycles of exclusion. He wants us to be ministers of reconciliation, to be the ones who reach out, include, and embrace.
Social exclusion still leaves a scar. There are days when the memories come back—uninvited, unwelcome. But instead of letting them harden my heart, I’ve allowed them to draw me closer to God. I’ve learned to see others who might be on the margins, and to offer the kind of welcome I once needed myself.
If you’ve experienced social exclusion, you’re not alone. Your story matters. And God sees you.
Our Heavenly Father,
You understand what it feels like to be rejected.
You were betrayed, abandoned, and left out.
Help us, Lord, to find comfort in your presence when others turn away.
Heal the wounds of exclusion and remind us that we are chosen and loved by You.
Teach us not to return exclusion with exclusion.
Instead, empower us to welcome others, to forgive, and to build communities where everyone is seen and valued.
Let our lives reflect your embrace—an embrace wide enough for all.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.
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References:
Collins, P. H. (2000). Black feminist thought. Routledge.
Eisenberger, N. I., Lieberman, M. D., & Williams, K. D. (2003). Does rejection hurt? Science, 302(5643), 290–292.
The Holy Bible, New International Version. (2011). John 15:18–19. Bible Gateway.
Huang, C. (2017). Time spent on social network sites and psychological well-being: A meta-analysis. Computers in Human Behavior, 76, 486–494.
Lorde, A. (1984). Sister outsider. Crossing Press.
Nguyen, M. H., Kim, J., & Gil de Zúñiga, H. (2020). The social costs of exclusion: Understanding the consequences of digital ostracism. Computers in Human Behavior, 108, 106315.
Volf, M. (1996). Exclusion and embrace. Abingdon Press.
Williams, K. D., & Nida, S. A. (2011). Ostracism: Consequences and coping. Current Directions in Psychological Science, 20(2), 71–75.
Hannah Fields is a recent graduate with a B.S. in Psychology from Indiana Wesleyan University and will begin graduate studies in Clinical Mental Health Counseling Fall 2025. She is passionate about the intersection of faith, psychology, and inclusion.
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