Confession #9: I am Empty.

Toiling. Striving. Pain. Tears. Every human being feels it, the broken earth beneath our feet. Purposelessness. Hopelessness. Horror. Shame. Every human feels it, the broken heart between our lungs. And we yearn for that moment of completion, that happy ending. So we thrust ourselves into the world, with a broken pail in our hands and a sign saying "fill me up." Each person comes and pours water into the pail. It seems to rise and rise, and you feel complete for a moment. Then, you see at your feet, a muddled puddle of your dreams and desires and hopes and loves. Your pail is empty. A useless vessel.

That's what I've been. I've been searching for others to fill me. To make that pail full so that all my dreams can come true. That maybe for once I can forget my past and love my present and be content with the future. Instead, all I feel is emptiness. The world has been my guide, and I've listened and obeyed and loved it. I've fallen. I've been an empty vessel.

I lay down in my puddle of brokenness, consumed in shame and loneliness and sorrow. And for once in my life, I see how much I need a hero. I need a savior. Because I can't handle my own life and my own decisions. I need someone who will love me with every hypocritical mistake I've made and continue to make. Who won't pass judgment. Who won't cast me aside. Who won't abandon me. Who won't strip me naked. Who won't manipulate me. Who won't ask for anything in return. Who won't hold me hostage. Who won't hate me.

And I realize that I've traded in the most precious and beautiful love for an empty pail. So I fall to the ground again, not in shame, but in utter repentance, hoping and praying that all those promises and all those stories are true of the one who can bring about restoration. I weep and weep for all things lost. Because I think how can he love me? How can he possibly take me as I am? This gaping wound and this tormented soul of a lost sheep.

I see now more than ever before that I chose my path, that I chose my decisions, that I chose what comes next. I've allowed circumstances to define me. I've reacted out of bitterness and pride and lust, and I can't keep my perfect world in order because it was never in order to begin with. There is a certain kind of grace, a type of forgiveness that covers all things. It is this that I pray for, that I fall on my face for, and that I need more than any other thing in this world. I know now that this grace, this forgiveness is the only thing that can mend and sew back together the horrors of the broken heart. And I wonder and hope that he loves me in spite of it all.

You are not alone. If you're in the pit, holding your empty pail, and yearning for love and purpose in this life, know that I am right there with you. As are 7 billion other people. We all need grace. No matter how perfect you think you are. Now matter how perfect I thought I was. I've fell, fall, and will fall. Which is precisely why I need a saviour, why I need Jesus. And I remember again, way deep down in my heart of hearts, in that tormented soul of mine, that I am loved by him despite it all. And I say it again and again. He loves me. He loved me; he loves me, and he will always love me.

And in time, I find in my hands not an empty pail, but a cup overflowing.

Confession #8: A Question of Purity

Confession #8: I am waiting.Yes, you read correctly, and yes I am implying that I am waiting to have sex. And let me say this before I continue--it is the most difficult choice I have ever made. Of course, having grown up in a Southern Baptist Church, I believed that premarital sex was a no-no. So, for years there was no issue concerning the unspeakable matter. Then, my family packed our bags and headed to a small town in Georgia, where the population drives golf-carts. All of this to say, that on one insignificant day, I drove my golf cart up a hill and thought: "What's the point of it? What's the point of waiting to have sex?" And for some inexplicable reason, I decided to wait. Because I believed in some greater purpose for it, that it's not really about virginity but about something more. I was fifteen.

Now, I'm a tad bit older, a bit less naive, and a lot more cynical. Because when the real thing confronts you, the consequences of your beliefs--you realize that it's come with a heavy price. And I was angry with God. Because it's incredibly unfair to ask me to hold out. It's unfair to have always had responsibility. It's unfair to have never had a time of sheer rebellion. What the hell was the importance of sex? I waited this long, so wasn't that good enough? The world condones it, and in fact, thinks I'm crazy for waiting. And I hear all the arguments: everyone does it, and yes even Christians do it; God only meant to condone abstinence for a certain time; try several sexual partners because if you've never had experience, how can you know if the guy is any good? I've heard all of these arguments again and again until I want to run away screaming. All I want is justification, and let's be honest, I want a green light from God to be able to have sex. So...

This is when I open the Bible, whose crisp edges I realize haven't been turned in a while. Hebrews, here we go:

"Dear friends, if we deliberately continue sinning after we have received knowledge of the truth, there is no longer any sacrifice that will cover these sins."

Seriously. Really. So, I read again. Yes, I still feel that same conviction, that still small string that plucks at the truth. And this when I realize that there is no mediocre relationship with God. No going halvsies. It's all or nothing. Because a mediocre relationship is not worth living for. I've sadly seen that this is what I've been doing. Going off how I FEEL about Jesus, making it all about me. If Jesus is about what I feel, then he's not worth it. Because my emotions change with the wind, fleeting and completely inconsistent. So, what started as a search for sex became a journey for truth. And here's what I've gotten so far:

"Promise me, O women of Jerusalem, not to awaken love until the time is right." (Song of Songs 8:4)

When it all boils down, waiting to have sex is really about something more. Saving yourself is about something more. And let me make one thing clear: it is not for another man. No, not even your husband. No, not even for your dream man. Because if waiting to have sex is about waiting for Mr. Darcy to come along, then give up now. Because waiting to have sex for the future husband will only lead to sorrow and disappointment. It's about God and always has been. I've just been too selfish to realize it, always thinking I've been pure and blameless, sexually, before God.

"Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy." (James 1:2).

Virginity does not equal purity. Purity is about something more entirely. And on both accounts, I have failed. Because guess what? Every sin is equal in the eyes of God. My lustful thoughts are equal to anything else. Seriously. That's when I realized this question of purity is really a question of faith.

"Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see." (Hebrews 11:1)

Waiting is about purity. Purity is about faith. The very definition of purity lies in BEING PURIFIED. There will be troubled times. It will be difficult. Being faithful will be the hardest task. And it ultimately comes down to each of us. No one can tell us what to believe or how to live. The only thing I know is that a life is not worth living, unless it's lived to the fullest. And that's my journey, to discover truth, to remain faithful, and love God and his wonderful people.

Please, O women of the world, do not awaken love until it desires. Wait, because the wait will be worth it. Not for someone else, not a man, certainly. But for something greater.

More to come soon because I have a feeling this needs to be talked about, this thing called purity.

Confession #7

Confession #7: I am inconsistant.

Seriously. I'm pretty sure my roommates hate me at the moment. So let's just a round of applause to my best friends who graciously live with my crazy self! From 9am to 12am I have gone through about 6 different major life choices. All of them contradict one another, of course. Can I afford to go to Italy over summer? This was the biggest question of the day. If you had asked me at 1pm, I would have said "No, no. It's financially wiser to wait and go later." Ask me the same question at 4pm, and I'll tell you: "Oh crap! I need the credits to graduate! I have to go!"

I'm sure if you're reading this, you most likely think I'm ridiculous because it's not that hard of a decision to make. But like anything else in life, I somehow manage to turn a small thing into a major crisis. At some point during a 10 minute span, I will involuntarily stress about a factor in my life, whether it's my job, school, living situation, dating, etc.. and I let it take over. Stress can run my life. As an American college-kid, it's so easy to be swept up in the present and swallowed up in the future, while all the while trying to forget the shame of the past, and I FORGET WHO I AM. I let something, whether it's a man, a friend, a desire, or a dream, hijack my thoughts, and I lose myself in them. I plan. I organize. That's who I am.

How to change it then? Well, I might start off by drinking a Grande Salted Caramel Mocha. Then, I'll sit down and watch the newest episodes of (don't judge me) Once Upon A Time, The Walking Dead, and (my favourite of all time) Downton Abbey. The next day, I wake up exactly the same, except maybe feeling a little paranoid that zombies will invade Atlanta.

Right about now, a still, small voice comes, and it tugs at my spirit, saying "Emily... remember, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear. Life is more than food, and the body more than clothes... but seek first his kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well."

Do not worry. Do not be anxious. I have to tell myself every day to give it up. Because there is not a single reason to worry. My future is protected and prosperous; my present is vivacious and vibrant; my past is forgiven and forgotten.

So, this means that I won't worry about my Italian test coming up, or my impending living situation, or even the rare event that zombies might invade Atlanta. Because I am precious and held dear by someone far greater than anything on this earth.

Confessions #5 and #6

Confession #5: I've eaten a giant chocolate cupcake ALONE in the Kroger parking lot. It was one of the best cupcakes I've every had. The chocolate icing swirled like whipped cream and sat perfectly atop a fluffy vanilla cake below. All for under $3 too. Pretty good deal, unless you factor in the fact that I was alone, in a Kroger parking lot, listening to Jason Mraz's "A Beautiful Mess."

These are the best and worst moments of my life. It tasted so delicious, so juicy sweet! And then it went straight to my thighs. It's these very moments where I feel like Smeagol confronting Gollum. I stroke the cupcake, slithering "My precious..." and then I snatch the box and toss it inside, only to devour it 30 minutes later.

I've battled food for five years now and lose most of the time. Because when isn't there an excuse to eat?

"Oh... I'm just feeling a little depressed." (Eat 5 Oreos)

"That guy really just pissed me off!" (Eat a fistful of chips)

"It's PMS..." (Eat a whole gallon of ice cream)

I haven't learned to control this habit yet. And honestly, this will probably be one of my most open and heart-felt confessions:

Confession #6: Food is an idol. I can't wait for my next meal. Seriously, I feel like a T-Rex tromping through Jurassic Park trying to find the goat. It's an uncontrollable appetite that begs to constantly be fed. So I feed it. Ah, but here's the problem-- I am absolutely miserable when I feed that little Cookie Monster. My biggest fault stares at me in the mirror everyday, and everyone else can see it too. That's the problem with food; you can't hide its effects.

Hopefully, you're the past the point of judging me. In fact, I have a sneaky feeling that you identify with some of what I have said. Because everyone has an idol. Drugs. Sex. Drinks. Gossip. TV. Friends. Women. Men. We're all human. It's a weakness, that thing that makes us fall. And when we fall, well, sometimes we just lay on the floor because it's too much to bear. That's what I've done. It's easier to sit next to the chocolate cupcake than to get up and throw it away. Therein lies the rub, my friends. It's easy. It's comfortable.That's what an idol is. Instead of getting up off the floor, I pray that the cupcake will disappear, or that I'll suddenly find myself standing--skinny and happy and healthy. I can attest that this has never happened. There is no magic spell, no formula, no prayer that knocks down an idol. It's discipline. It's endurance. It's faith.

I woke up this morning to a text from my cousin, and saw a quote by one of the wisest people I know: DUMBLEDORE.

“Dark times lie ahead of us and there will be a time when we must choose between what is easy and what is right.”

I would typically laugh and go on with my day after reading this text, but for no particular reason it resonated with me. It's easy to eat the cupcake. It's right to leave it. Soon, very soon, I'll have the courage to leave it, that cursed chocolate idol.

Confessions #3 and #4

. The first Disney movie I never watched was Beauty and the Beast. I used to watch it over and over and over again. In fact, I can even quote the sound effects. Anyone who has ever watched it with me understands and is nodding with sarcasm. I used to make up stories of how I was trapped inside an enchanted castle, fought my way through, and magically felt the love of a beast. I pretended to be Belle. Of course now, I see exactly why. I saw myself in her, even at five years old. Belle--her passion for books, her loyalty to her family, and most of all, her need for adventure-- I found belonged to me.

"I want so much more than this provincial life! I want adventure in the great wide somewhere. I want it more than I can tell. And for once it might be grand to have someone understand... I want so much more than they've got planned."

At fifteen, Belle's character would resurface in the form of Elizabeth Bennet. I knew immediately that Jane Austen somehow knew my life, how I reacted to situations, how I saw society around me, and how I felt out of place. I understood her more than any other character, and by understanding her, I began to understand a different part of myself. Elizabeth--her passion, her vivacity, her fearlessness--I saw in myself. To this day, Pride and Prejudice is my favorite novel and cultivated my love for literature.

All of this has a point I swear. You see, these two women fostered growth and have made me the person I am today. Granted, they are fictional characters, but I'm English major, so I can get away with stuff like that. All of this to say, that there is another side to the coin, another deck of cards so to speak. Here it comes....

Confession #3: I am fiery and independent. It's who I am. Because it's as deeply rooted as my hopeless romanticism, I find that I am at war quite a lot. It's like Beyonce and Snow White are in hand-to-hand combat, hoping to finish the other off. Not a day goes by when I don't contradict myself. "I want a man ... no I don't-- I want to be independent... I want to be swept off my feet by a prince.... what I am thinking, I can rescue myself!" These pathetic and hypocritical ponderings eventually lead me to realize that maybe being singe isn't that bad after all.

Confession #4: Being single is awesome.Yes, it's true. I've looked at both sides now (as Joni Mitchell says), and can say that I've enjoyed and been far more fulfilled in singleness. I am absolutely free. That independence, that vivacious spirit within me cries to find meaning and purpose in this life, and as a single woman, I have come closer to God than as a woman in a relationship. This singleness may only be temporary or it could last until I die, who knows? But this I do know: I will not sacrifice purpose for the love of a man. I have been down that road before, and I tell you it only leads to heartache and pain. I've lost who I am before, and I will not do it again.

Did you just judge me again? I think you might have. And whether you judge me from bitterness or understanding, I really have no idea, but I hope someone out there does glean a bit of usefulness out my slightly crazed confessions. At least I'm honest. Who knows? Maybe you'll end up not thinking I'm so crazy after all.

Confessions #1 and #2

Let me put my cards on the table. I am single.

Confession #1: Being single sucks. Completely. There is not a day that passes that I don't think: "Why don't I have a man?" Which of course, this one question turns into a hundred more that always end in putting me in a funk. These questions always lead to some sort of self-destructive conclusion: I'm not beautiful; I'm not smart; I'm not lovable. I doubt I am the only one who thinks these things.

Confession #2: I am a hopeless romantic. Utterly. I watch Pride and Prejudice and come away with my heart soaring and yearning for the day when my Mr. Darcy comes strolling through the fields to tell me that I have bewitched him body and soul and that he loves me. I read Jane Eyre and think that maybe if I sacrifice the desire for love then maybe I will magically hear my Mr. Rochester's voice on the wind, and we will reunite after years of toiling hardships. I listen to Tangled and hear the song I See the Light and can't help but feel like maybe a wanted thief will take me to see the thing I most desire, and at the same moment, we will both break out into a romantic ballad of our realized love for one another--that we are each other's dream.

You just totally judged me, I know. I can see it in your moving eyes. Whether that judgement came from a place of bitterness or recognition, I can't say. But the thing is, I know I am ridiculous and weird and awkward and horribly naive when it comes to love. That's the whole point of writing this. I want other people to not feel so alone. That maybe my slightly unbalanced thoughts can help others feel a little more sane, justified even. This blog is dedicated in its entirety to exposing real life, real feelings, and hoping to make a little sense out of complete chaos called LIFE. But hey, I'm just another single girl in a world of 7 billion people.