When I was in high school, I was sure of only one thing — I was a horn player.
I loved it. It was the only thing where I put every ounce of effort I had into it (ok. Maybe not all the time, but we won’t mention that first all-state audition where I didn’t practice for 3 weeks). My whole identity was wrapped around the horn (French horn, for those reading who weren’t sure).

But there’s something else.

I was also a Christian. The main difference though, I was an imposter. I could fake being a Christian more than anyone else I knew. I knew what to say to make everyone believe that I was deeply in love with Jesus.
Confession. I wasn’t.

Ok, sure, probably on some level I was or I wouldn’t have been very convincing. (Maybe I wasn’t, I don’t really know). I walked around with this lie, screaming at me, yelling at me. “You’re a fake. Phony. Imposter. Poser. Deceiver. Liar.” No one else knew. But I did.

The charade was heavy and hard to carry. But I was too deep now to turn back. (I was 18, and dramatic). It was wearing me thin.

I was persuaded by one of my favorite conductors ever to audition for a scholarship to the local university. “No way!”, I told him, but I showed up anyway. I respected him as a teacher, and he respected me as a musician, so I prepared and auditioned.

Fast forward. I graduated, was looking forward to playing under his leadership, only to find out that he left. Oh the agony. A couple of months go by, and I show up for an extremely important audition with the new director TOTALLY UNPREPARED. I repeat, totally unprepared. I had not had my lips on a horn in over 6 weeks, and I had literally sight read the audition pieces the day before.

I walk in, and before I could even introduce myself, he says, “Emilee! I’ve heard a lot about you. Can’t wait to hear you.” He could’ve been totally blowing smoke, but whatever. I hack my way through the pieces, totally ashamed of who I was, and was praying hard for a sinkhole to open up in the rehearsal hall and swallow me and my music stand right then. He puts his pencil down, looks at me for a very.very long time, and says “I really expected more from you. I’d heard about you, and thought you could do better”.

Kill.me.now.

Don’t you see? I had placed my entire identity in my horn playing. There was a certain level of excellence that was expected of me that I failed to deliver. I was a fake.phony.imposter.poser.deceiver.liar.

My world was starting to crumble. I was weary from the weight of my own deception of who I was as a Christian, and now I had nothing left as a horn player. I put my stock into something ephemeral. By not conceding to the truth of who I was in Christ, by not allowing Him to wrest control of my heart, I had no identity anymore.

I was shaken to my very core. For the first time, in probably my whole life, I began to earnestly seek God. I had nothing else to grasp but Him. Know what he did? He told me (not audibly) that I was going to serve Him in ministry. . .

Wait. What? How? I’m a mess! I. . .I screw up. . .a lot! I can’t lead! Sure enough. I AM a mess, and I CAN’T lead, but thankfully Jesus is really in the redemption business.

. . .

Even after all that, after 3 years at a Christian university, after 2 years of graduate work, I STILL was a poser. But this time, it was different. This time, I had a few friends in my life who saw straight through me. They saw past the façade I hid behind, but instead of condemning me, they loved me. They said “oh. You’re messed up alright. . .but so am I”. Then didn’t let me settle, they don’t let me settle. They helped me to see my identity in Jesus, as one who is deeply loved and consistently pursued by Him. I don’t even know if they know they’ve even done (do) that for me. . .

Tonight my heart is grateful. Grateful for a God who loves me even when I don’t love him back. Grateful to a savior who redeems me unconditionally. And grateful for friends who pushed through to me and gave themselves, even if they didn’t know it.