We’ve all heard the famous line — rejection is redirection. It's a beautiful thought, one that rolls easily off our tongues when we’re not the one facing a door that’s been slammed shut in our face. But when the rejection is personal, and it’s cutting deep, do we have what it takes to trust that we’re being guided toward something infinitely better? In the words of Rav Gav: Twenty years ago, I was newly married and living in Ramat Eshkol. Finances were tight, and I knew I needed a way to come up with $18,000 — the grand sum total of our yearly expenses. After looking for a job that would work with my Yeshiva schedule, I got a summer job that would pay almost $9,000. The job would be demanding, but the generous compensation made it worthwhile. I was looking forward to the challenge until I got an unexpected phone call just weeks before the summer. It was the man who had hired me. "I'm sorry, I can't give you the job," he said. "It's not going to work out." Then he added something completely bizarre: "I just don't think your wife will be happy if you take this position." The rejection was so strange, so inexplicable, that I couldn't even summon anger. Even then, something within me recognized Hashem's hand at work. Faced with this sudden change, I needed a new plan. My wife remembered that a year earlier, I had discussed a potential position at Aish HaTorah that hadn't materialized. "Why don't you reach out again?" she suggested. "See if anything has changed." To our surprise, Aish offered me a temporary two-month summer position. That short-term role has blossomed into almost twenty years where I've had the profound privilege of working in the most beautiful place in the world, the Old City of Yerushalayim. It’s a zechus that I don’t take for granted – to teach, to inspire, and to help precious Jewish souls connect to their heritage. The sudden job rejection with no explanation became the gateway to the opportunity of a lifetime, one that opened countless other doors along the way. Had I gotten what I thought I wanted, I would have missed what I truly needed — and what the world needed from me.