confessions of a fence-sitter

Two years ago Iconfessed to my pretending. I admitted to not having it all together, to not being perfect, or doing all of the things I’m supposed to, or even beng as happy as I might appear. 

Tonight my confessions are about my fence-sitting.

You see I live in a land of many worlds, as I am sure you do as well.

And it can be tempting, at times, to lose myself in one or all of those worlds. I’ve said before that I wear many hats (figuratively), but never have I wanted to be known for changing characters or faces as I switch hats.

{Can we pause to just acknowledge, if you live in the Atlanta area, what a plethora of astounding worship options we have always!? Be more grateful. It’s amazing!}

Last night, I made it to The Grove at Passion City Church. It’s also amazing! 

After the traffic, the lines, the getting lost (because that is my MO in the city), the shuttles, the overwhelming amounts of people, the free hot chocolate, and then, FINALLY, the hugs of friends, the event began.

And y’all I just have to tell you…God just struck me down in my seat before Chris Tomlin even sang a note. I mean BOO HOO tears. Not the tear drop in your eye crease that you can blink away kind. No. Big, chest-heaving cry.

And I thought, “God! What the heck is this!? I mean…huh?”

And then…

My pride, my hypocrisy, my ego, my self-seeking, my defensiveness, my gross, ugly. I sat there with my own words being spoken back to me about the faithfulness of God and the awesome work He does while simultaneously being shown the insecurities I have felt, the doubts I have thrown up to God, and the tiny, aching, fear that creeps in the back door that: “what if? What if I’m wrong about how He feels about me?”

I lasted merely a song and a half and had to excuse myself to the restroom for a good five minute ugly cry. You know the kind. When you walk out of the stall only to find that the bathroom light is perfect for magnifying your splotchy, red-eyed, swollen-nose, cry face.

Beauty at it’s most magnificent, loves.

Lauren Daigle’s song played on loop in my brain, “how can it be, God!? How can it be that this is so? That my pride, my ego, my selfish pursuit, my ugly goes so deep and yet your love goes deeper. And not only does it go deeper, but it is unfathomably deep and has been that way since before you even breathed man into being!? How can it be that you did not just provide a way for us, but that you becamea way for us!?

[Am I alone here?]

A slap in the face and then a gift; “I know. It really is so ugly, but I just love you so much. Here’s a gift. Love, God.”

“Here’s a night filled with incredibly beautiful women, sharing their stories of my faithfulness, just to remind you of the redeeming love that I have for YOU. How awesome.”

Later I realized…

I’ve been a sell out for the past year or so. Some of you—or maybe only my Nana—might be tempted to believe that I am being too hard on myself, but allow me to explain.

In my desire to tell lots of people about how great God is and how much Jesus loves them, while helping them (through writing, speaking, AND yoga) tap into the lies they believe, find the lying voices in their head and then move towards freedom from that…I find myself living in a few different worlds. I me…what kind of brand is that? “What IS your blog?” someone asked me the other night. “Oh, uh…well…It’s a shame-haters blog, an authenticity and courage blog, about yoga, and grace, and freedom in Christ. And love! And did I mention courage? And probably some healthy food stuff too.”

I mean…seriously. What is that? Anyways.

Sometimes I get stuck. I want yogis and I want Jesus lovers—without turning away anyone. That doesn’t work apparently.

So I have been sitting on the fence in essence, leaning one way or the other—depending on the day, my mood, what I had pictures of, and which social media platform I’m on. [My life is so complicated.]

And here’s what I must confess…there have been times when, despite my authenticity and courage anthem, I have succumbed to filtering my love of Jesus through what my yogi friends might think. (To which my wiser self responds, “wtf, Emily?! We’re talking about JESUS here. The only one who makes anything in this life possible or WORTH ANYTHING!?” Yes, I know. It’s ludicrous. {Also…I just spelled that ‘ludacris’ and spell check had to correct me. I couldn’t make this stuff up. Luda would be proud to know I’m representin’.}

I must confess though, that I have. And that sucks. God’s so much cooler and more deserving than that. AND SO IS EVERY SINGLE PERSON HE CREATED! They deserve to hear about how much God loves them over my feeling comfortable. It [technically] trumps every time!

God does the most miraculous and beautiful work in the business of redemption! And He loves us more than we will ever comprehend! That is the only brand worth standing for. #Jesus.

I love Jesus. If you read or see or hear about anything GOOD that I am doing, saying, or writing…it is solely because of him. If I write something that inspires, it’s Him. If I momentarily look cool and fancy in a yoga asana, it’s Him. If something I say strikes a chord in your heart and you think, “that’s just what I needed to hear,” that’s because He knows you need to hear it. Not me.

I must apologize. Sometimes I don’t WHOLEHEARTEDLY live out my own flippin’ Wholehearted Authenticity marching anthem. It’s tough. Pride is such a jerk.

Onward and upward…cheers to more courage and grace everlasting, sweets.


For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.
Ephesians 2:8-9