Emily.

Emily is one of my very best friends. She started coming to lifegroup her freshmen year and she's continued coming ever since. That's one thing that marks Emily. Consistency. She dedicates herself to things, people, and Jesus, and she doesn't stop pressing into them. Even when it gets hard, or messy, or inconvenient. Emily always listens to my ridiculous ramblings about my life. She listens to me whine. She studies with me even when I get sassy. She stays with me for 27 hours straight when I freak out about silly things. A loyal friend is hard to find, and I'm so happy to say that I've found one in Emily. And now I get the honor of living with her! Emily's story get's me fired up about God's character every time I hear her speak truth into places that have hurt her so deeply. She has learned the true importance and freedom in vulnerability, and I've been so honored to be on that journey with her!

Well. I was born January 13, 1993.  But my story doesn’t really get started until the fourth grade. That was the year my parents separated, which sadly was a relief to me. After seeing how angry my dad was a lot of the time and how much he yelled, I longed for a home where I wouldn’t hear yelling.  So from that point on, every Saturday my dad would spend time with my younger siblings and I.  I’m not really sure how long that lasted, but at some point I realized that the home that I thought would hold less anger and less yelling hadn’t really changed.  I began to notice that I was the one getting angry and that I was the one yelling.  My elementary-school mind equated this to being like my father which comes with spending time with him, so logically, I would be less angry and less dad-like if I spent less time with him.  This began a game of deciding which Saturdays I would spend with my dad while crafting sneaky excuses some other Saturdays that would keep him from being angry with me for not going with him.  This went on for a few years, but by time I reached middle school it was more rare for me to go with my dad and siblings on a Saturday than it was to stay at home.

            At the same time, I spent every Sunday at church.  They told me all about Jesus. The head knowledge was there and I was pretty morally sound.  I didn’t break rules (usually because I was afraid of getting in trouble), I didn’t swear, and I tried to be nice to my sister and brother. It wasn’t until my mom began attending a new church in middle school and insisted that we come that I learned that Jesus was more than head knowledge. He wanted a relationship with me. There wasn’t like a concrete, pinpoint, about-turn moment in my life, but gradually my moral sound-ness became a walk with Jesus.  My friends became the people I went to church with. Which was sometimes great, but sometimes not.  I could go to any church event and have a friend to talk to (even if they were somewhat inconsistent at times) but at school I had very few solid friends.  I guess that really caused a need to feel valued by people and a search for my identity in what people said about me. That’s probably why when people called me a leader I stepped into as many leadership roles as possible-sometimes even doing things I didn’t really enjoy.  I craved affirmation and consistency in friendship and I was frequently disappointed by my friends. That isn’t to say I didn’t have good friends, because I did. But my expectations of them were too high for any person to meet. 

            So there I was in high school.  I avoided spending time with my family because it was never easy. Especially when my brother struggled with suicidal thoughts a lot during my sophomore and junior year. I kept busy with school, work, and church. I poured a lot of time and effort into friendships because that’s what was keeping me running. Looking back now, it’s hard to even see the relationship I had with Jesus. Not because He wasn’t there, but because I was rarely looking. I remember “spiritual highs” and worship nights, but there wasn’t really much to the relationship besides that. I thought I was good with God. By time it came to look at college, I was ready to leave.  Which is how I ended up 1600 miles from home. I was running away from everything, hoping to find God in the mix of it all, and ready to be somewhere where people didn’t know me and had no expectations for who I needed to be.  That’s why I applied to Baylor.

            Let’s back track a little bit to my dad.  The same pattern continued onward until I essentially had no relationship with him at all.  When people said every girl needs her dad, I didn’t believe them. I was generally perfectly fine without him in my life, besides the fact that I had no idea how to fix our relationship.  It was my senior year when my dad decided to take his own life. It was unexpected to say the least.  My family was wrecked. But, just like when he left the first time, I convinced myself that I was ok.  For a few months, I was pretty sure I was relying on the strength of the Lord. I was fine.  But the next few months were really hard, made even harder because I felt like I had no one I could talk to about it. Not because they weren’t there but because I had no idea how to bring that up in a conversation without making it awkward for the people who avoided the subject as soon as the could.

            So I was going to Baylor. And my family was a mess. But I was okay. Still, I got to a point the summer before going to school where I seriously questioned whether or not I wanted to continue doing the whole God-thing I had been doing. Which pretty much sums up my walk with Jesus through high school. I can’t really put it to words though, but in my head it wasn’t much more than this-whole-God-thing I’d been doing for a few years. Somehow, clearly by God’s own doing, I decided not to give up yet. And then summer went by. And then I got to Baylor.

            I came in secretly a mess. And it was a secret to me just as much as to everyone else. My plan of action was to keep everything that had happened with my dad hidden. I didn’t want that to be how people knew me. I was insecure. I had no idea who I was. I didn’t know anyone at  Baylor and I didn’t want to be home with my family. However, every leader I had had since being at Baylor went to Antioch Community Church so that was the only logical place for me to start going. And I’m really glad I did. Not only did I meet Jesus in a personal way for the first time, I learned what the true meaning of the church was, and fell head first into community. 

            Let me just tell you the way that Jesus has radically transformed my life, even in the first semester. For the first time, I heard that Jesus spoke to ME. Not just my pastor or “important” people. But me personally. I learned to hear the voice of God. Big deal number one.

I also learned that I have an identity in Jesus that cannot be shaken.  Like who He says I am is who I am. There’s no changing the fact that I’m His daughter, that He calls me His own, that He isn’t going to fail me. Jesus wants to walk in relationship with me. And because of His blood, He says I’m worthy to be His friend. Big deal number two.

Turns out, there’s this character trait of God called His Father heart. Big deal number three. I know it’s simple, but when you tell a girl who’s essentially lived without a father most of her life that the God of the Universe has a heart for her and calls her daughter it’s a pretty big deal.

It’s strange to think about, but even at the end of first semester, when I was surrounded by a lot of solid people, many of them had no idea that my dad had committed suicide hardly a year prior. But first semester was what I like to think of as a “staging ground.” God made me familiar with hearing His voice, getting words from other people, and helped me recognize through others that being vulnerable is actually ok.  It’s probably not a big deal that this next part happened second semester, but considering that it was less than a year ago (which is CRAZY) that’s how I always think about it.  Just a few weeks into my second semester at Baylor I realized-or rather God began teaching me-that I needed to start being vulnerable with my community, mostly because I wanted my friends to know about my dad. I guess as a way to connect better or something, I don’t really know. But when you grow up thinking that vulnerability and honesty are signs of weakness, it isn’t that easy to tell people about your life.  The first half of the semester was really a process of learning vulnerability in even the subtlest ways. Followed by having to share my life story with groups of people who were actually my friends. And then freely telling people on a spring break mission trip called Awaken (if you ever get a chance to go, don’t say no. Okay?).  Remember that I thought I was ok? Surprise! I wasn’t. I think I cried more on Awaken than I did the rest of my freshman year combined. But it was so good. Being broken before Jesus is probably one of the sweetest places I can ever find myself. And that week I was destroyed. I had never mourned my dad’s death, and I got to with my Heavenly Father. I had never dealt with-or even been aware of-half the lies I had been believing regarding my dad’s death, and suddenly I was free to weep over them. Numerous people prayed for me the exact same things. AKA God was speaking right to me through numerous people.

Man, God is GOOD. He has healed me in ways I didn’t even know I needed to be healed. I never even knew that was a possibility. I never thought God cared. I never knew that it hurt him as much as it hurt me. I had no idea that He was waiting for me to run into His arms, the safest place in the world. I am welcome in His embrace.  And most of it came after a willingness to be vulnerable with community. I could tell you the names of the people who were the most impactful to me on that trip, but I don’t think that’s really the point. The point is that God ROCKED my world that week. He placed new identity on me. He surrounded me with a community that I feel safe in and CAN be vulnerable with. Every bit of mess that I came to Baylor with He is making His own and making me whole in the process. Every place of brokenness is just another opportunity for God to make me whole in Him.

That’s what I keep learning about. The Father heart of God. The way God, just like a dad, picks me up in my brokenness, lifts up my chin, looks me in the eye and says it’s going to be alright because He has control. The way He stands with open arms as I run to Him and He tells me how proud He is of me. The way that God meets my every need and is the best Father I could have asked for. He has shown me time and time again what a Father looks like, which is especially important when the only model for a dad that I had wasn’t one that reflected God. And Jesus brings me to places of brokenness and desperation for Him so that I can reach more intimate places with Him. It doesn’t make sense really. That the God who created everything longs for friendship and relationship with me. That He loves me and is proud of me. But He does. That’s what makes me excited to wake up every morning and spend time with Jesus. That’s what drives my desires to go to the nations and walk in obedience with the Lord. That’s why the things that break my heart have changed and the way I live has changed and my life isn’t always easy to put into words. Because it’s not my own anymore. My life belongs to the Lord and times of confusion and chaos are times when I look right into His eyes because I know I can’t handle it on my own.

There’s more to my story, but as I meet with Jesus in deep places, the hurt from my past seems so much less significant. He redeems. That’s my story. I once was an object of wrath, but now I am raised up with Christ so He can show me the immeasurable riches of His grace (Eph 2:1-10).