I Don’t Recognize Him

When Jessica saw Brian’s name on her caller ID, she knew something was wrong; he would only call during this time of day if there was an emergency.

She answered and carefully sifted through Brian’s words. “You have to pick me up,” his voice was nervous and slow. “I’ve been released,” he explained, “I have to return to the station.” Jessica sat in the quiet processing the weight of the situation, feeling her heart being pulled down into her stomach.

“We had mentally and financially prepared for months in advance of the police academy, but we weren’t prepared for this. We didn’t expect his sponsorship to be pulled.”

After nine years of serving at a local police department as a police service officer, Brian was finally accepted into the police academy as one of their recruits. With the good news, their family pivoted; Jessica, who was a school counselor at the time, had not gotten her contract renewed and decided it was an organic time to pause her career to stay home with the kids. Things fell into alignment for Brian to enter into the rigorous six-month program: the sponsorship covered his salary, his academy fees, and provided the required equipment.

But just shy of his fifth week at the academy, Brian was released by his sponsors without an explanation, other than the implication that the department he had spent nearly a decade serving didn’t think he was worth investing in anymore. Just like that, they no longer had a source of income and they had to return all of his equipment and uniforms. Crushed and dejected, Brian and Jessica faced a difficult decision: Does he keep going and self-sponsor—meaning, handle all the costs that go into the academy, pay out of pocket for all the other expenses, and go without a salary for half a year? Or should they wait and hope he gets picked up by another agency, which wasn’t guaranteed and would require all the background checks, paperwork, and hiring process that would push back their plans back another six to twelve months without pay.

“I wanted him to come to the decision on his own. I knew what I wanted in this situation, but I held my tongue and waited.”

Over the course of a day, Brian’s mentality shifted. His prayers went from: “God, why did You put me into this, if You were just going to take it away?” to: “Even if I don’t make it, God, I have to try.”

That night, Brian decided he would return as a self-sponsor.

Jessica, untethered by work, helped Brian jump through all the hurdles of paperwork, purchased all of his required uniforms, and gathered all the necessary equipment and forms. Her unemployment was a blessing in disguise, as she was able to utilize every minute of her day interceding and supporting her husband, taking care of their two young children, and cleaning and ironing his uniform to the required standard for each day.

When Brian returned to the academy after being let go by his sponsors, something shifted in the atmosphere. Officers and staff were shocked to see him return. Though the change in attitude didn’t make it any easier, most of his fellow recruits—and even the tactical staff—were awestruck by his heart and faithfulness to return despite the circumstances.

Others thought it was nonsensical. Not only was he not going to be paid, but they knew Jessica wasn’t working at the time either.

The police academy tested the recruits’ physical, mental, and emotional ability, while the tactical staff’s main objective was to get individuals to quit. “They try to weed out almost half the recruits,” Brian explains. While Brian was being pressed beyond his limits in physical demands, stringent structure, and mental games, he would hear, “Why are you here? You’re not good enough. You’re a waste of time!” shouted into his ears on a daily basis.

Still, when faced with rejection and uncertainty, Brian knew that God had called him here, and no matter what doors closed or pathway obliterated, he needed to be faithful to the call.

“I needed to give it my all, even if I wasn’t sure I was going to make it,” Brian says. His voice is resolute and calm, his eyes soft, yet determined.  

Looking at Olivia and Evan across the table, he goes on, “I wanted my kids to know that dad tried his best. That dad never gave up.” Jessica wipes a tear from rolling down her cheek. Olivia and Evan, aged six and five respectively, keep their eyes fixed on the workbooks before them, seemingly unaware of the hardships their dad and mom has endured for them.

The unseen and unheard sacrifices, the desperate prayers, silent tears, and poured sweat.   

As Brian was broken physically, mentally, emotionally, God showed up through their Ekklesia, Ekko’s regional home groups. Ekko members banded around and covered them each day, providing daily prayers and messages of encouragement. They helped carry Brian and Jessica’s burdened spirits from each moment to the next.

“From the minute I got up, to the minute my head hit the pillow at night, God’s grace was just enough for that day. In the moments I thought I was going to collapse, when I couldn’t go on any longer, I would get a notification on my phone with a verse or a prayer that was exactly what I needed.”

In the crosshairs of hardship and daily mistreatment from the tactical staff, teetering on the edge of not passing the necessary and grueling physical tests, Brian still found himself steeped in gratitude, praying, “God, thank you for this week.” And as Jessica watched her husband pore over books late into the night after coming through the door with his body sore and broken, how he remained gentle and patient toward her and their children, her respect deepened for him. “There is a reason,” she prayed over and over when the days were long. With no steady income and two young children, each day lurched with uncertainty, and as a self-sponsor, the time and financial investment chipped away at their comfort and security.

God was refining their faith and redefining community on His terms.

“Before this season, I always knew that God was faithful and that He would provide. It’s so easy to have faith in your head, “ Jessica says, “But this time it was tested. It wasn’t just head knowledge anymore. It was becoming real.” Tears begin to gather in her eyes. Even still, on the harder days, she would cry out and minister to herself, “Why do you still doubt God?”

As they endured through the season, worship reverberated from a well of gratitude.

“Each word in the Bible, each song during worship came alive in my spirit. We were completely living in faith.”

“I don’t recognize him,” Jessica smiles as she studies Brian’s face. Though they’ve been together for more than 22 years, this season has refined his character and revealed his true heart. The ways in which Brian and Jessica clung to God, how they endured, how they were obedient to God’s call, were so apparent, they inspired others in his class. At the academy graduation ceremony, loved ones came up to them and gave them hugs.

“They wanted to acknowledge his heart that never gave up,” Jessica says proudly. “They had heard so much about him and our family.” 

As they look back on the experience, when asked whether there’s still anxiety after making it through the academy, Jessica responds, “We don’t know what department he’ll end up in. And if anything, the academy was just the beginning. Soon he’ll be on the streets patrolling, and I’ll be praying each day that God brings him back home to us safely.”

“There’s still so much uncertainty. We still need God every moment of the day,” Brian continues. “But now, we’ve experienced what it means when God says He is faithful. That He is good.”

It’s been almost three months since we sat down with Brian and Jessica, and Brian has officially signed the paperwork to join the police department at a local university.

If you’d like to learn more or sign up for our Ekklesia home groups, our regional gatherings, you can click here.