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| Seventh grade- literally pretending to be an elf queen. |
Yet somehow, mysteriously... wondrously... I began to have dreams of Jesus.
Not many people know this because honestly, it is just strange and weird to tell people. I didn't really know Jesus or his story at this point in my life, yet all of sudden he was in all of my dreams. I remember being frightened of this, and I asked my mom why it kept happening and she told me to ask God about it. I didn't really know how to pray, so I decided the next best thing was to take a family Bible and open it to the first page it fell on and see if that yielded any understanding.
Holding the book in my hands, I timidly let it fall open in my lap. My eyes scanned the page, and the first words I took in was a sub-line that said: "Daniel Interprets the Dream." I can still remember how my heart felt like it completely stopped, and I knew if it didn't start beating again soon, I would die. Luckily... it did. I read through the whole page, and nothing made sense or stuck out to me except one verse that said, "No wise men, enchanters, magicians or astrologers can show to you the mystery that you have asked, but there is a God in heaven who reveals mysteries." (c. 2, v. 26) I somehow realized that whatever was happening was not from me, and it was just the beginning. And it was at this point that I decided I believed that there was a God.
Months went by, and I began to start reading the Gospels. I began with Matthew, and it got off to a bit of a boring start considering half the page was a list of names I couldn't pronounce. However, I got deeper into the story of the mysterious God-man named Jesus, and he fascinated me. He made no sense and didn't line up with my understanding of the fiery, vengeful God I had heard of before... he radiated kindness. He defended the weak and the poor and the strange. I felt like he was always rooting for the underdog, and I liked that since I was, unfortunately, a high schooler that still ran around the woods pretending I was an elf.
Around this time, my family began going to church consistently for the first time in my life. I started learning about how to pray and read the Bible, and all through this time I was growing more fond of Jesus, and I hesitantly began praying and spending time with this God I didn't understand.
One fall night, I was sitting outside my house on my front porch steps, waiting in longing and desperation for Chinese food that seemed like it would never be delivered (my definition of hell) when I felt a resounding sense of what can only be described as "otherness" around me. I can't fully describe the sensation - I have felt it many times since that moment, but at the time, it felt like a strange but light pressure on my chest and my heart started beating quickly and my hands began to shake. Some may say I was experiencing an anemic episode; however, it went beyond my physical reality, it was as if something deeper and unknown inside of me was coming awake. I remember not knowing what to do or say or respond to this weird feeling, so I just said: "God... is that you?" No response. Classic move on his part. Yet even in the silence, I couldn't shake the weird feeling that had settled upon me. I asked again, "God - do you want to, like, tell me something?" And out of no where, one word rang out in my head so loud and clear it was like a mini-person had jumped in my brain and decided to shout: "Hands!" (Yeah, that was bad writing, my apologies.)
"Hands...
Yes....
It all makes sense now. Thanks for that God, I'll log that away. Good chat."
The above is sarcasm, because in reality, I had no idea why the first word I ever heard God speak was "hands." So I decided to pull the old trusty move of opening the Bible randomly and hoping something on the page would make sense. I was an expert at this point in my life, having done it once before successfully. I crossed my fingers and let it fall open.
It fell open to 1 Timothy. And when I read the page, my eyes stopped here:
"Let no one look down on you for being young, but set an example for believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith, in purity. Devote yourself to the public reading of Scripture, to exhortation, and to teaching. Do not neglect the gift you have, which was given to you by prophecy when the elders laid their hands on you." (v.11-14)
Shocked to the point of near-death, yet again, I laid the Bible down. Looking around - Chinese food still no where in sight - I wondered if anyone else would ever know how incredibly strange and impossible this all seemed and actually believe it to be true. And a sobering sense of purpose fell upon me - I realized that whatever was happening to me was beyond myself, beyond my ability to fabricate it. I knew that a holy, mysterious God and yet a close God - close enough to speak and I hear, close enough to move and I feel... somehow had picked me out of a crowd and invited me to experience him in an undeniably real way. I knew that he was inviting me to a deeper reality of self, that I was not just a 14 year old kid that ran around the woods all day, but even more so, I was chosen and set apart to play a role in this story that was running through the fabric of humanity. That is was a gift, and that it didn't matter if I was young - what lay ahead was a journey of becoming more and more the self I was created to be.
With tears in my eyes, still basking in my first, sweet taste of the presence of the Holy One, I looked toward heaven, and I felt a voice reach out to me and whisper: "Emmie, come... follow Me."
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