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Seminary Application erin.r.lloyd@gmail.com
Because I’ve been thinking about the first prompt to this essay, and because it’s Easter season, my
conversion story has been predominant in my thoughts. It’s not overly dramatic, but the more I think about it,
the more I remember how I felt sitting on the pew in the old sanctuary of the church my parents still attend. I
was nine, and my church was having the closest thing it ever had to an old‐fashioned southern revival. I had
been in church my whole life, but what I realized that night was a first for me. A man named Mickey Bonner was
the key speaker. I have researched him since and he was famous for what he talked about the night I was saved.
He preached very simply on brokenness over our own sin. As I sit here, I am brought to tears because of how
pertinent that revelation is to the Easter season. I am sinful, even at my best, and my sin requires a sacrifice
that, thankfully, has already been paid. I remember crying back then too. I knew Christ had died on the cross. I
was a part of a bible‐memorization group called AWANAs, so I knew the Roman road and John 3:16, but
somehow it had never been personal. That night I prayed, using my own nine‐year‐old words, that God would
forgive me, that he would be in charge over my life, and that I would follow him wherever he led. Honestly,
He’s been the protagonist in my story ever since then.
I grew up Southern Baptist, so I was of course baptized in total immersion. The joy of that moment
belongs not only to me but to my family, and in particular my mom. She felt like it was her gift because I was
baptized on Mother’s Day. I remember articulating in my high voice before the whole church that yes, this was
my testimony. This yes was the answer to the question from the pastor who intimated my belief and asked me
to assent before the gathered congregation.
So that’s the beginning. Near to the days of the beginning was my first certainty that I would be a
missionary. I wouldn’t say call yet because it wasn’t quite that formal when I was 11. But I do have a piece of
notebook paper from 1993 with the assertion that the answer to “When I grow up, I will be…” was, for me, a
missionary. I knew of missions from my youth because of church – primarily through Girls in Action and the
Lottie Moon Christmas offering. But the real connection to international missions for me was relational. My
parents were such big believers in world‐wide evangelism that they made it their mission to make each and
every missionary who came to our church feel welcomed. I met almost, if not all, of these missionary families.
Two of the families made a huge impact on my life and both of those families have daughters my age with whom
I remain close. I can’t remember knowing anything but admiration for them. I knew with my whole heart that
there was no other choice for me. It’s difficult to place the beginning for the urgency I feel to help spread the
gospel of the kingdom ‐ it is so much a part of me that I’m not sure where it started. But it was definitely
through those families that I learned to love cultures other than my own, to appreciate the difficulty of life as a
missionary, and to value the calling.
Throughout elementary school, junior high, and high school, my relationship with God grew deeper. I
was blessed to have a music minister who took the youth choir on mission trips and a youth minister who
believed that youth could be culturally relevant and still spiritually intelligent. We had morning bible studies
before school, outreaches to the skater kids that hung out in our parking lot, and small groups where honesty
and vulnerability ensured that our relationships with Christ and each other were true. In those years I definitely
became a leader in church life. I was a soloist in the youth choir, a small group leader in the youth group, a
vacation bible school teacher, and in general a social keystone to my group of high school Christian friends. Two
Spiritual Journey Erin Lloyd
Seminary Application erin.r.lloyd@gmail.com
of my spiritual gifts came to light during this time and are still present in me today. I love to teach (Ephesians
4:11). From the time I was a teenager, there has never been a long period in my life without teaching. I love the
process, from the initial ideas and concepts, to designing curriculum, to the act of teaching itself. Another gift
that became evident during this time was that of encouragement (Romans 12:8). In general, it’s how I relate to
people. My current roommate says that I see through rose‐colored glasses when it comes to “potential.” I think
I see who people can be, and I love nothing else as much as I love encouraging them until they see themselves in
the same way.
College cemented my call to missions and changed me theologically. I knew I wanted to go away for
college. I grew up in Arkansas and I ended up in Boston, MA at Boston University. I went as a missionary, was
educated as teacher, and became a leader in Christian activities. Boston was the first place I started to feel at
home. I think, looking back, that this was because there was such an obvious mission field there. Also, the
ethnic diversity was revolutionary to me. I had an appreciation for other cultures, but the exposure in Boston
taught me how to form relationships and keep them across cultural lines. At BU I was the President of the
Baptist student group and I helped organize an inter‐denominational Christian gathering involving all of the
para‐church groups on campus.
I went to Dakar, Senegal in Africa for volunteer missions in the summer between my sophomore and
junior year. I led an English language school and fell in love with the people, the women especially. I think
Muslim women have their own residence in my soul. Even though I think I had told most of those close to me
that I wanted to be a missionary, it was now my heart and soul’s conviction. My time in Africa also intensified
an issue I had already been facing‐specifically the doctrine of dispensations. We saw miracles happen, and yet
the missionaries I was surrounded by could not rejoice in God’s obvious presence in these miracles or express
them to supporters in the US. When I came back to college, in the midst of planning the inter‐denominational
Christian gathering, I encountered charismatic Christians who were strong in Biblical knowledge and discipleship.
I stayed in my Baptist student group, but I started visiting other churches. My goal was to stop putting limits on
what God could do. I found a church that I loved, and it was part of a group of churches that I respected.
After college, I moved to Austin, TX, to be a part of one of those churches and to follow their leadership
path from training school to international church planting. This is where things get sticky. My life up until this
point followed a steady, paved road. Sure it had its occasional bumps – doubts and hardships and questions.
But for the most part, it made sense, it had a trajectory, a call that others envied. In Austin, I dove head‐first
into church life. I served in every arena I could. This time, though, the small group I led barely got along. The
choir struggled with race issues. And the church I was a part of slowly crumbled from the inside out. Stressed
beyond belief, I was also experiencing occasional physical problems that were extreme and troubling. In August
of 2006, I woke up blind in one eye. It turned out to be a blood clot more reminiscent of a physical issue a 70
year old might experience. For the next year, every three months brought a new symptom and more blood
tests. During that same year, a member of my small group died in a car accident, and the two pastors I revered
the most were fired. The remaining pastors, knowing that I had some level of peer influence, proceeded to try
to influence me to stay, even as the environment became toxic to my health. In January of 2008, I left the
church and I was diagnosed with Lupus (SLE). I don’t remember very much of that particular doctor’s
appointment, but the two things I heard and tried to carry out changed my life. The doctor told me to get
Spiritual Journey Erin Lloyd
Seminary Application erin.r.lloyd@gmail.com
counseling, both because of the obvious stress I was under and the anticipated emotional affect of the diagnosis
itself. He also told me to exercise so that my muscles could better support my painful joints.
I’m fairly good at obeying orders. I promptly asked a friend for recommendations on Christian
counselors in the Austin area. I think of that first appointment with Merry Fiske, my counselor, as my Ebenezer.
I really believe that God ordained her as divine help in my life. In that room, I safely questioned every part of me
that I had previously taken for granted. I never doubted God’s presence, but I doubted His good intentions. And
with her help, in response to a diagnosis in which stress was detrimental, I painstakingly dropped everything I
was doing besides work and counseling. I restricted my diet to only vegan, gluten‐free options, and I slept more
than I had ever slept in my entire life.
At rock bottom, I encountered Grace. It may seem small, but on my drive home from work one day, I
realized how many calls I hadn’t returned because of my fatigue and depression. I cried out, “Jesus, I can’t do
this!” And very clearly, I heard Him say, “You don’t have to.” I was overwhelmed with His love and mercy for
me. As funny as it is, He was reminding me that I can’t earn or lose His love with unreturned phone calls. My
whole life had been about serving God. And somewhere in there I had become confused in this sly sort of
legalism in which I served to deserve. Now, with no other choice but to eat, sleep, and work, I still felt and knew
God’s love. The reality of His good intentions towards me finally became clear.
I had given up any ideas of missions because of my disease. I travel for my job, and each time I did so,
the pain was almost unbearable. One Sunday morning, a friend and I were traveling and decided to go to church
before I dropped her off at the airport. We looked on‐line and found a church we both liked. Standing among
strangers at the end of the service, a lady approached me and asked if we could talk. With my friend to witness,
she made sure that I understood I was supposed to travel the world. My friend knew I had given up my old
dreams and her excitement was palpable. I was doubtful. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to believe her, but the
facts were on my side.
Now I’m going to say something that may be risky on a seminary application. God healed me. From the
inside out, He healed me. He brought me through my own dark night of the soul. I am physically, emotionally,
and spiritually healthier than I have ever been. I had never exercised in my life. I thought it was past my
inherent capabilities. But when I began to experience God’s healing, I knew the limits I put on my life were mine
‐ not His. So now I have a personal trainer and I like exercising. I even like the outdoors!
Last week my doctor took me off of all my prescriptions. Unwilling to admit that I’ve been healed, he
did remark on my quiet self assurance. “You have changed,” he said, “that’s indisputable.” And he took hold of
the only tangible part of my story he could, “Maybe I should refer more people to counseling.” Even though
international missions and counseling are not mutually exclusive, it might seem a bit of a jump. I have become
convinced, however, that one of the most powerful parts of my own testimony is God’s grace. He cared about
me not because of anything I’ve done but because of who He is. And the way that tangibly expresses itself in my
life, the way I hope to express it to others, is through health and wholeness ‐ from the inside out.