growing through what you go through

When I was 12, I lost my dad — and not long after, I witnessed some unfortunate things unfold right inside my home. It wasn't a one-time moment. It was repeated, undeniable, and heavy for me to see. I had no language for it. No outlet and no guidance. I went to school carrying a secret so loud it drowned out everything else. My mind wasn't in the classroom — it was back at home, replaying what I saw and wondering what to do with the weight of it.

Around that time, our house turned into a hangout for high schoolers. I was 12 years old, getting drunk and then cleaning up the aftermath — not just the bottles but emotional wreckage that I was too young to name, and too alone to share. That season marked me. I didn’t just witness something — it attached itself to me, because no one else saw. No one else knew. And no one else was talking about it.

I became the one who carried it. The secret-keeper. The one who took on guilt that wasn’t mine and responsibility that was never meant to be on my shoulders. If something broke, I blamed myself. If something didn’t feel right, I tried to fix it. And when everything eventually came out and the truth hit the surface, I was hit with the questions:

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

As if the blame found its way back to me again.

But here’s what I know now: I wasn’t crazy. I wasn’t dramatic.

I had discernment — even as a child — but I didn’t have the tools to understand it. I knew what I knew, and I carried what I couldn’t explain. I became the “Sherlock Holmes” of my family — unraveling things no one else wanted to face. And whether I spoke up or stayed quiet, I still felt like I was always the problem.

I was also the only daughter at my dad’s house full of boys — six of them. And even on my birthdays when I was celebrated differently, I somehow felt like I had to apologize. That’s what shame does — it warps celebration into guilt. 

For years, I didn’t understand why I felt so rejected, so wrong, so different. But everything shifted when I came to Jesus. One of the first things He told me was:

“You are the Joseph of your family.”

At first, I didn’t get it. But now I do.

Joseph was a dreamer. Favored. Misunderstood. He carried vision, discernment, and depth — and because of that, he was rejected, betrayed, falsely accused, and left to suffer in silence. But what looked like a curse was actually a calling being refined.

God allowed Joseph to be placed in painful places not to punish him, but to prepare him. He didn’t just carry a calling — he carried process. And that process was lonely. Misread. Delayed. 

For over a decade, I felt like I was going to lose my mind. I battled depression. Fear. Suicidal thoughts. Shame so thick it felt like cement on my soul. There is no earthly reason I should still be standing — still sound, still clear, still full of purpose — unless God is real.

And He is.

It is only Jesus who has kept me. Only Jesus who brought me through. It is only by His Spirit that I’ve remained steadfast in storms. It’s His grace that placed an uncommon faith in me — the kind that looks at every broken piece of my story and still declares:

“This will be redeemed.”

Jesus didn’t just meet me in my mess. He delivered me from it. He rewrote my identity. He pulled the shame off me. He took the guilt, the trauma, the silence — and gave me clarity, boldness, vision, and purpose. He gave me new DNA. He put fire in my belly where fear used to live.

Now listen — I’m not sharing all this for sympathy or to air out my family. I’m sharing it because this is the power of God’s redemption — He took the messy parts of my story and has turned beauty into ashes. God can do so much when you surrender your brokenness to Him. And this is just a very small glimpse of the brokenness I had within.

If you’ve been misunderstood, silenced, or labeled “too much,” know this: God knows what you’ve gone through. He heard it all. He saw it all. And perhaps if you are in a season to receive this, you could have faith to believe that God is preparing you. Your pain is not wasted. Your story is not over.

This is the Joseph story — a story of refinement, preparation, and destiny.

And it is Jesus — only Jesus — who brings us through, who turns suffering into purpose, and who writes beauty from ashes.

Because being the Joseph doesn’t mean you're better than anyone — it means you’ve been built to carry what others couldn’t.

I’m the first one saved & submitted in my family and I stand on Genesis 50:20 and can’t wait to see them come out of shame, shackles, and secrets and straight into THE LOVE OF GOD.

There’s no way I could be where I am if it wasn’t for JESUS and I want everyone to know Him TANGIBLY.

JESUS-The only name that kept me. The only voice that broke through my heart and took the fragmented pieces and made me whole again. The only One who reached into my pit and pulled me into purpose.

It’s Jesus. Only Jesus.

My prayer over you is that you would have a fresh encounter with Jesus and that you would have a relentless belief in you that proclaims REDEMPTION to unfold even when everything appears to be ruined.

Much love,

jordyn

PS- I wrote a blog on prayer points over unsaved family members, hopefully it helps you believe for redemption over your family, too!