When You’re Nobody’s First Choice
Finding peace in the ache of being overlooked and the beauty of being called anyway
I was always the kind of girl who got picked second. Sometimes third. Sometimes not at all.
Whether it was a game of netball in childhood, a birthday party invite that never came, the silent shifting in friendship groups, or later, the long stretch of job applications and slow no’s, I knew what it was to be overlooked.
My little heart broke over and over in the quiet. By my teens, I stopped hoping for anything different. By adulthood, it almost became an expectation. If something newer, brighter, or more put-together came along, I’d be the one left behind.
And can I tell you something? That not-ever-being-chosen-first ache does something to you. It settles in deep. It changes the way you walk into a room, the way you sit in spaces where people gather. You question everything. Every look. Every motivation. Even when you are chosen, you wonder if it’s just because someone else pulled out, or if there was an option you didn’t know about.
It chips away at trust, even in the good moments. Because being overlooked too many times trains your heart to expect absence instead of presence.
Some of you know this ache well. You’ve felt like the safe choice, the backup friend, the one who only gets called when Plan A can’t make it. And you’ve smiled through it. You’ve said “I understand” when your soul whispered, “Not again.” You’ve kept showing up, even when no one saw the cost.
But what I want to gently remind you of today is this: just because you weren’t chosen first doesn’t mean you weren’t called.
God has never needed a spotlight to find you. He has never once passed you by because someone else looked more qualified, more spiritual, or more impressive. In fact, His choosing often looks like the opposite of what the world calls successful.
When Samuel came to anoint the next king of Israel, Jesse paraded out all his strongest sons. The tall ones. The ones who looked like they belonged in power. But God said no to each of them. It wasn’t until Samuel asked, “Are these all the sons you have?” that David, the youngest, the one still out in the fields, was brought forward.
David wasn’t even invited into the room. But he was the one God had chosen all along.
Plan B in man’s eyes. Plan A in the heart of God.
You may not have been anyone else’s first choice. But you were never an afterthought to the One who formed your very being in love. He doesn’t look at the outward appearance. He sees the heart. He sees your faithfulness in the quiet places. He sees your tired yes when no one’s clapping. He sees the kindness you keep offering, even when it costs you.
There is something sacred about being passed over by people and still believing that God will use you.
Because it strips you of striving. It tears down the need to impress. And it teaches you something holy. Your worth has never been measured by applause. It is anchored in the One who called you by name.
Maybe you weren’t chosen first in the places that mattered to you. Maybe you’ve never been the one who stood out, the one they celebrated, the one they chased after.
But God doesn’t need human approval to anoint someone with purpose. He doesn’t wait for others to say yes before He moves. He simply looks at you, your real, raw, unfinished life, and says, “You are mine.”
Your name is written on His hands. Your place in His story was never up for debate.
And though you may carry the ache of being passed over, He will never leave you behind. He doesn’t forget. He doesn’t overlook. He doesn’t abandon the ones He calls.
“You did not choose Me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit—fruit that will last.” - John 15:16 (NIV)
They may not have chosen you first. But God did. And when He calls you, that calling carries eternal weight that no person, no timing, no rejection can take it away.
Love, Sarah xx.
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That post hit me right in my deeply hidden inner core, where i locked away the unresolved pain of always being the geeky one, the awkward one, the unwanted one. I'm in my 60s now and I thought I'd moved past all that, but I guess it just took one person who truly gets it to remind me that I still have some unpacking to do. Thank you for that.
It took courage to write this. It also takes courage to drop the unmet expectations, the sorrow and see ourselves as God sees us. Thank you for writing. God bless you!