Fourth, the idol crusher. Let’s be honest: deep down, many of us crave approval. We want to be chosen, needed, liked, and the narcissist sniffs that out like blood in the water. They know your hunger for validation and exploit it. They make you dance for every scrap of recognition. But that desperation—that idol of needing to be approved by man—is what the narcissist is sent to crush. An idol is anything you put above God. When your worth hangs on whether a narcissist loves you, you build an altar to the wrong God.
The good news? When they finally withhold affection, when they sneer, when they discard you, it’s not just rejection; it’s exposure. God is saying, “See, that’s what happens when you worship their opinion instead of my truth.” Their cruelty, as devastating as it feels, is a hammer that smashes the idol of human validation. As those pieces fall, you realize something life-changing: you don’t need their approval to be whole. You don’t need their love to be valuable. Psalm 118:8 says, “It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man.” The narcissist’s betrayal teaches you that lesson in living color. Once you get it, you’ll never bow to their throne again.
Fifth, the wake-up call. You know what a narcissist really is? An alarm clock. And not the soft, soothing kind that plays birdsong in the morning. No, they’re the blaring, obnoxious alarm that shocks you out of bed—heart pounding, sweat dripping. Annoying? Absolutely. Necessary? Without question. Because let’s be honest: without the chaos they bring, you might have stayed asleep—comfortable, numb, living in a fog where you tolerate less than you deserve.
But when a narcissist bulldozes through your peace, when their betrayal slices you open, when their lies rip the blindfold off, you can’t stay asleep anymore. God uses their storm to wake you up, to shake you out of denial, to force you to see what you’ve been ignoring. Comfort zones don’t create growth; discomfort does. And nothing is more uncomfortable than realizing the person you loved was the very person sent to teach you the hardest lessons. Their abuse isn’t permission; it’s revelation. It’s God’s way of saying, “Wake up. This isn’t where you belong. I’ve got more for you.
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