Confession:

As the young ladies began to settle in to sleep around 4 am, it’d finally gotten to us. What started off as a simple game of “Two Truths and a Lie,” quickly spiraled into something, none of us bargained for. Everything within me wished she would just skip me, especially after hearing Savannah’s (for confidentialities sake, names have been changed) truth. Everything she’d said, had been God holding a mirror to my face, and showing me not my outward appearance, but my inward closets. The doors I had closed off to His healing and shut off from His touch were all being exposed right before everyone, but through another’s words. Quietly I sat desperately trying to settle the rising conflictions within my soul before anyone noticed. Desperate not to be found out, I mumbled a prayer to God asking Him spare me. Then suddenly I heard,

“Emily, you didn’t go deep!”

Before I knew it, my heart began to explode and all it’s filthy little secrets started spilling over. Every wall came crashing down, as if Savannah’s story was an epitome of the Israelites that’d marched quietly around the walls of Jericho, and now the seventh day had finally come, the silence had been broken, praise started going up, and every wall came crashing down without hesitation.

             “Yes, they’re talking about something else, I’ve escaped.”

My mind boggled the idea of the slight change in conversation, because for me, I’d just dodged the bullet aiming straight towards my heart. Or so I thought. Not even five minutes later, everything within me was in an uproar at, who I’d like to call Mother Kate’s abrupt interruption; “Emily, it’s your turn to go deep.” At that moment I knew there was no going back, either I conquer what had been conquering me this entire year, or I hold onto such a torpedo locked-in on my life. I took a deep breathe and parted the very gates, whose walls caged all my secrets, and didn’t look back. I dove into a sea of wilderness, stroking my way through the waves, getting tossed by the tide, until I reached the shore, to safety. Mother Kate asked “So, how’s Emily?” and my response was “I’m wounded.”

Wounded was the perfect word to describe my state of being at that current time. In my mind, I’d been the soldier on the battlefield who’d stepped on a bomb, and once it exploded, no I had not been killed, but boy did I wish I had been. It was so much I couldn’t handle, and I didn’t know how to allow God to have my burden and take upon myself His. On November 10, 2012 my oldest known (which I’ll explain that expression later) died in a car accident around 4-5 am that morning. I couldn’t bare the weight of the news that had been thrown at me, that day, so I did everything in my power to dodge it, but my attempts failed. Though he’d died, that wasn’t the sole issue. To add ammunition to an already blazing fire, God had shown me a funeral through a dream, November 1, 2012, just nine days prior. In this dream, I remember walking into my mother’s house and seeing two of my sisters sitting in the living room talking, and when they noticed me, one called out, “Em, calm down.” Before I knew it, I could hear the Lord’s voice over everything saying “The enemy is putting death decrees, sicknesses, & attacks on your family. The enemy is all over your family.” As I slammed the door, I screamed out loud frustrated and very angrily. My two sisters scared and shocked told me to calm down, but I pushed my hands through my hair and said, “The devil is a liar, take your filthy hands off my family, I declare you to leave my family right now.” then I woke up.

Because of that  dream, I became angry. (Why couldn’t I have done something? I could have saved him! It’s all my fault! I knew, and still did nothing), are only a smidgen of the condemning things that swarmed my mind. That entire week, and the previous weekend, I’d been praying for my family in many ways, through many opportunities with church families, friends, and alone. I’d communicated with almost everyone, except my brothers (him being one of them) letting them know, and yet and still he died. I felt as if my prayers weren’t answered. Even the night of his death at around 3:30 am, I’d been up, and right before I feel asleep, I heard his name being whispered to me, so I uttered a final prayer of protection, and I shut my eyes. Deep within myself, I was enraged. Which leads to the next stumbling block thrown my way.

When people began to find out about my dream back home, before I even arrived, they’d already made up in their mind, she’s strong because God allowed her to see such a thing; and when I finally did arrive, people and their expectations for me, drove me nearly insane. They’d say things like “Who’d God prepare first?” “You need to be the strong one, Emily.” “Don’t cry!” and my favorite “Pull yourself together, you knew, and had time to prepare, be strong.” Hence the creation of THE MASK. From that day, up until a short while ago, I’d put on layer after layer of this mask, to conceal my truest feelings, in order to “BE STRONG.” But answer me this! Does strength constitute a vessel without weakness, or one who recognizes his/her weakness? Does it discourage the existence of vulnerability? Can it still be strength, even when the next move is still unknown to the warrior? And who’s strength do we rely on, ours or God’s?

As they lowered my brother’s body into the ground, so they lowered the “real me.” I could no longer be her, because of other’s expectations. So I let her die, and left her in a place I’d never want to revisit again. Not just because it was the same place I’d left my brother, but because it was also where I’d have to confront what I was really feeling.

Broken, I became time after time. It even got to the point where, not only was I broken, but each piece of me that had been broken off, was also being shattered in the same process. People’s expectations for my life continued to rise, and I’d become so hidden I couldn’t even recognize myself. I became afraid to make mistakes. Everything I did, had to be done right, even if I was doing wrong, I allowed others to believe it was done properly, to maintain this image of perfection. Expectations from my family, friends, church members, even the people who didn’t like or favor me as a person just compiled into this big gapping whole in my heart, where Jesus should have been. What He had to say, I’d tune out, because I was angry, but also because I was afraid that if I listened it would only mean something else would be taken from me. Pressures were building from all sides, on the left was school and family; the right contained friends and work; and within me were the expectations God had for my life. I couldn’t take it, so I decided to end it all.

“At least, I’ll be with my brother.”

I thought as if suicide could solve anything. First I attempted to run myself off the road, then I wanted to drown, and then I just wanted to run into another car, and just give up. “Boy, does giving up sound good right now” an example of the type of thoughts rumbling through my mind, picking at every fiber within me, to just “Wave the white flag. Throw the towel in.” Of course the enemy didn’t make it any better. He encouraged my behavior. He made me feel worthless, unwanted, and unloved. He had me thinking that God Himself had it out for me, when in reality it was the other way around. God wanted me whole, but I wouldn’t listen, I just couldn’t because that meant another heartbreak. It meant something being stripped away; it meant I’d loose more than I’d gain. Well that’s what I forced myself to believe. Rapidly things progressed, depression set in, and  it became one thing after another. Whether it was some class I was failing; a loss of an important friendship that I’d cherished deeply, or even financial difficulties; further and further I slipped into this bubble of darkness, and the only images I could see were the thick layers of the mask, and in my hand, the next layer I was to add. I began to feel un-pretty. So I’d put on fake hair and fancy clothes to warrant a smile, to suppress my true unhappiness.

2013 vastly began to slip through my fingers, and just a day or two after the anniversary of my brother’s death, I’d gotten a call. Someone I loved, a person I talked to almost every day, and someone I held dear tried to commit suicide. “How dare she?” I was soo angry and hurt. “How could she do this to me?” Immediately mental accusations begun to fly and all I could hear was “Another thing God wants to take away from me. To be one that loves so deeply & so passionately He sure has a funny way of showing it.”

My latest mask was already in position, not one new layer but ten. “I need you to pray” one person said. But how could I, I was weighed down by my own fear and un-forgiveness. “You’ve got to be strong.” another expressed. “What do you think about the situation?” so many asked. Never, not once was it “Are you okay? How are you holding up? Let it all out, it’s okay.” Not once did I get the compassion and sympathy everyone else so desperately yanked from within me. I had nothing left to give! But I did have something to take, MY LIFE. This time just had to work. I needed to succeed; if I failed at this, then I’d continue to live under the constraints of someone else’s expectations. The pressure was too much. To add insult to injury, there stood the outsider. The one who wanted to replace my brother. The one who I’d never known. The bastard. The poser. The “other child.”

I couldn’t help but think, when I’d gotten the news, someone wanted to take Edward’s place, but I wouldn’t allow it. I couldn’t. Edward was like my father. He was the one I ran to like a six year old girl would run to her father every moment he walked through the door. Yet this intruder and with his impure motives had the nerve to say “I just want to get to know my family.” “Psssh, he’s not any family of mine, he doesn’t even look like us.” Id taken my fill, and now I was done. I’d forgotten to pray, and even how to pray. I’d lost all accountability, because I isolated myself from the little support I did have. Ultimately I became bitter. I’d kept going to church, playing the role, acting out my part, but within myself, deep inside, I was cold. No fire, no warmth, no anything, because the young woman inside had stop searching, and gotten lost between all the madness.

But GOD IS SOOOOO PHENOMINAL. He’d never gotten lost. He was and continues to be by my side. He kept track of the original version of me, and wasn’t persuaded or moved by the Emily I created or attempted to be. That Friday night at the lock-in, one of my spiritual mothers (Mother Paula) said something, I knew only God could have said to her. She said, “Just be Emily! There is so much freedom in just being Emily.” Just within that moment years worth of masks were being ripped off all at once. Who would have imagined such few words could possess the power to unravel a mystery I created out of fear. I began to hope instantly. Underneath it all, I wanted to live, I wanted to be happy, and I wanted a way out. I just didn’t see it happening. However, at that moment, in the midst of those women, I saw God highlighting a path to freedom. It WASN’T my strong nature that attracted my heart to Christ in the first place, but because of my brokenness I desired more of Him, but I couldn’t understand it.

What I learned at the end of that year was to embrace the pain. Embrace the struggle and grab hold to Jesus like never before. I began to tell myself, “YOU  were never meant to carry the burden alone, nor at all for that matter. You were destined to hand it over to God in exchange for His yoke. “Cast your cares on the LORD and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken.” – Proverbs 52:22 & “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls“-Matthew 11:29

My advice to each of you that feel weighed down by the pressures and expectations of this world, just be you! DROP THE MASKS. Embrace who you are. The bible tells you not to seek unrighteousness, for it’s product is death (Proverbs 21:20-21); but it’s okay to make mistakes. You don’t have to have it all together, and wrapped neatly with a nice bow on top. No one is perfect and you’ll never find perfection looking through a worldly perspective. Only Christ’s perfection counts, and I don’t mean the Holier than though, I can do no wrong, cast judgement upon everyone who doesn’t walk, talk, worship, or yell like I do, Christ-like perfection. I mean the perfection in Christ that gives you the full awareness that it is by Grace alone that you are here. Through Christ’s love that you are wanted, adored, and even delighted in; and in His image you were created. I say it again, put down the mask, because within concealing you, you’re concealing greatness. Be encouraged and DON’T GIVE UP. Stay in a place of communion with Christ because in your weakness, it is His strength that girds you and upholds you. Pray, Seek, Read, and ALWAYS REJOICE, because your ladder will be greater than your past, as it is written:“The end of a matter is greater than it’s beginning.” – Ecl.7:8

Remember: Ecl. 7:2-4 “It is better to go to a house of mourning Than to go to a house of feasting, Because that is the end of every man, And the living takes it to heart. Sorrow is better than laughter, For when a face is sad the heart may be happy. The mind of the wise is in the house of mourning, While the mind of fools is in the house of pleasure.”