My leadership journey didn’t begin in a boardroom. It began in the desert—during my freshman year of college—when I deployed to Iraq as an infantry soldier. I left behind a 3.5 GPA, a scholarship dream, and a young relationship with the woman who would later become my wife. What I gained, however, was something far more formative: a conviction that leadership isn’t about titles—it’s about showing up when it’s hard, especially when no one’s watching. In Iraq, I encountered the kind of pressure that strips you down to your values. I saw death, experienced fear, and lost friends in combat. I also saw courage, brotherhood, and the quiet miracle of faith holding us together in the midst of chaos. I led in the only way I knew how: by being present, by listening, by praying with guys who hadn’t prayed in years. There was no pulpit in that desert, just purpose. Faith wasn’t just my comfort—it was my compass. When I came home, I was changed. I had PTSD, a new baby, and barely enough money to stay in school. But I showed up anyway. I walked on to the LSU football team and earned a spot on the 2007 National Championship roster. I wasn’t the most talented player, but I had grit. I knew what it meant to fight for something bigger than myself. And when I sat alone in the Superdome after that championship game, I wasn’t thinking about the trophy—I was thinking about the little boy in a wheelchair I had just signed a football for. I had never felt more seen—or more called. Years later, AncestryDNA revealed something that shook me again: the identity of the father I never knew. I discovered that I was the son of a successful New Orleans lawyer, a man who passed away while I was in boot camp. I had grown up without his name, his story, or his support. But in that discovery, I found a deeper faith—a belief that God wastes nothing. My pain had a purpose. My past didn’t define me; it refined me. Now, as a doctoral student at the University of Southern California studying Organizational Change and Leadership, I’m committed to raising up leaders who don’t just influence, but inspire. Faith is the heartbeat of my leadership style. It teaches me that identity is greater than image, that service is greater than status, and that our scars can become the source of someone else’s healing. One moment that shaped me deeply was during a Strong Bonds marriage retreat I led for military families. A soldier pulled me aside afterward, tearfully sharing how my transparency gave him the courage to fight for his marriage. It wasn’t a keynote or a lecture that moved him—it was my story. That’s when I realized: people don’t follow perfection; they follow authenticity. My vision for the future is simple but bold: to help others live inspired lives—at work, at home, and within. I want to create a leadership movement rooted in faith, resilience, and real connection. I’m writing books, speaking to executives, and coaching leaders—but none of that matters if I lose sight of the calling: to lead like Christ, serve like a soldier, and love like a father. “Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” – Matthew 5:16 Faith doesn’t eliminate struggle—it gives it meaning. And through every chapter—combat, college, fatherhood, and now USC—I’ve learned that God doesn't call the qualified; He qualifies the called.

Building a Life That Builds Others What I want to build isn’t made of brick or code. It’s a movement—a life that builds people. After serving as a combat infantryman in Iraq, walking on to the LSU football team, becoming a husband and father of six, and serving as an Army Chaplain, I’ve come to believe that our greatest legacy isn’t in what we accomplish—it’s in who we build along the way. I want to build a life that helps others find meaning in their story, strength in their struggles, and leadership rooted in service. That’s why I’m currently pursuing my doctorate in Organizational Change and Leadership at USC. My goal is to become a professor and leadership consultant, helping high achievers who’ve faced adversity—like trauma, poverty, or fatherlessness—grow into grounded, purpose-driven leaders. I’ve already started this work through my book Real Life Leadership, but I know I can go further with the right education and support. I want to build workshops and mentorship programs for veterans transitioning into civilian life, for students who feel unseen, and for companies that are hungry for healthier leadership cultures. I want to walk into boardrooms, classrooms, and broken communities alike—not with all the answers, but with empathy, tools, and a story that says: You’re not alone. You can grow through this. This isn’t just professional. It’s deeply personal. I grew up without a father. My birth certificate says “father unknown.” I know what it’s like to feel unworthy of success, to hide behind performance, and to wonder if your past disqualifies your future. But I also know what it’s like to rebuild—day by day—with faith, discipline, and love. What I want to build is a ripple effect. I want to create leaders who multiply hope. Leaders who know that real influence comes from authenticity, not ego. If I can do that—starting with my family, my community, and the leaders I train—then my future will not only be strong, it will make others stronger too.

Essay: From Combat to Classroom – A Veteran’s Mission to Educate and Empower At 18 years old, I left college and deployed to Iraq as a combat infantryman during Operation Iraqi Freedom. I traded in textbooks for tactical gear, entering a world that would forever shape how I see life, leadership, and service. My time in uniform taught me more than how to survive under pressure—it taught me how to lead with purpose, adapt in chaos, and fight for something greater than myself. While deployed, I experienced things that still echo in my soul—sniper fire, roadside bombs, and the loss of 12 men in our brigade. One particular day, I watched a fellow soldier get shot just feet from where I stood. I called in the position, and our unit captured the snipers—an event that was recorded and later went viral online. But behind that footage was a young man carrying the weight of trauma, dreams deferred, and a desire to make something meaningful out of what he’d survived. Returning home, I battled anxiety and isolation. Yet between missions overseas, I had trained with the goal of walking on to the LSU football team. Everyone thought it was impossible—but I made the team and became part of the 2007 National Championship roster. That chapter symbolized something far greater than sports—it was a turning point where discipline, faith, and vision converged. Now, I’m a husband, a father of six, and a doctoral student at the University of Southern California pursuing my Ed.D. in Organizational Change and Leadership. My goal is to teach as a professor and work as a leadership consultant—helping others grow from their own adversity and develop high-performance habits rooted in purpose, not just pressure. My military experience fuels my passion for education. I want to create training and development programs for companies, nonprofits, and veterans transitioning to civilian life. I want to inspire others through writing, teaching, and coaching. My book, Real Life Leadership, is just the beginning—I’m integrating research and real-world experience to help others lead with authenticity and resilience. Receiving this scholarship would help relieve the financial strain of graduate school and allow me to focus on serving others through my education. Serving as an Army Chaplain gave me a front-row seat to both the visible and invisible battles our soldiers and their families face. I’ve held the hands of grieving parents, counseled warriors wrestling with the weight of war, and prayed beside young service members just trying to make it through the next day. These experiences marked me—and they deepened my conviction that my life’s purpose is to give back to those who’ve given so much. I’m not pursuing a degree for recognition, but to be equipped to serve more effectively. I want to be a voice of hope, a source of strength, and a steady presence for military families navigating life after service.

From Anxious Moments to Anchored Mission I’ve faced combat, poverty, fatherlessness, and failure—but anxiety is often the quietest battle I fight. And yet, it has shaped me into a more present father, a more compassionate leader, and a more determined student. My experience with anxiety isn’t just clinical—it’s personal. After serving as a combat infantryman in Iraq, I returned home with invisible wounds. The trauma of war lingered: hypervigilance, sleepless nights, flashbacks triggered by everyday sounds. But it wasn’t just what happened overseas that fueled my anxiety—it was what I carried before I ever wore a uniform. I grew up in a home without a father, constantly wondering if I mattered or where I belonged. That emotional uncertainty planted early seeds of anxiety. In school, I overperformed not because I was confident, but because I was afraid of being seen as incapable or forgotten. I masked fear with discipline, but it followed me—into college, into marriage, into ministry, into fatherhood. The truth is, I often felt like I was running from the unknown. But through therapy, faith, and community, I learned something life-changing: anxiety doesn’t mean I’m broken—it means I’m human. It became a signal, not a sentence. And with that shift, I stopped seeing anxiety as my enemy and started using it as a mirror. It helped me see what I truly care about: security for my family, purpose in my work, and meaning in my life. Now, as a husband and father of six, I’m pursuing my doctorate in Organizational Change and Leadership at the University of Southern California. Why? Because education isn’t just my path to a better career—it’s my calling. I want to teach, coach, and consult leaders who face anxiety, burnout, or fatherlessness like I did. I want to help people lead not from a mask, but from a place of healed identity and clear purpose. Earning this degree will also allow me to teach at the college level—something I’ve long dreamed of doing. I want to equip the next generation with not only tools for success, but with courage to face their own mental and emotional challenges. I’ve spoken to thousands as a chaplain, leadership coach, and speaker—but it’s in classrooms, one-on-one conversations, and mentorship where I feel most alive. Pursuing higher education is not easy with six kids, limited income, and the weight of emotional responsibility. But it matters. And I refuse to let anxiety stop me from walking through the doors that education can open. I want to finish my degree not just for a title or promotion—but because I believe every moment of pain I’ve endured can be turned into purpose if I continue to grow, study, and serve. One verse I cling to is Isaiah 41:10: “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” That promise reminds me that peace isn’t the absence of anxiety—it’s the presence of purpose in the midst of it. This degree is a major step toward fulfilling my purpose. It’s my way of saying to my kids—and to anyone facing anxiety—that your past doesn't disqualify your future. In fact, it might just be the very foundation of it. With support, I won’t just graduate—I’ll multiply the value of this education into the lives of others for years to come.

Teaching from the Trenches – The Call to Educate from Experience Some people enter education through books and lectures. I entered through war, fatherlessness, and grit. And though the road I’ve walked isn’t traditional, it’s shaped me into the educator I’m becoming—a future professor, leadership consultant, and real-life guide for the next generation of learners, especially those growing up with pain in their past and potential in their soul. The person who most profoundly impacted my desire to work in education wasn’t a professor or teacher—it was my wife, Allie. She believed in me long before I believed in myself. Through the darkest times—coming home from Iraq with trauma, trying to walk on to a football team with a war-torn body, working three jobs while raising our children—she never gave up on my capacity to teach and lead. But more importantly, she saw the teacher inside me before I ever did. Allie reminded me that the best educators don’t always stand behind podiums. Sometimes they’re sitting on the floor with their kids. Sometimes they’re the ones who survived trauma and now teach from their scars, not their titles. She encouraged me to see my life not as a setback, but as a lesson plan—one worth sharing with others. My Journey: From the Battlefield to the Classroom I deployed to Iraq at 18 years old during my freshman year of college. I came back changed—haunted by the things I’d seen, but also sharpened by them. I had a deep longing to help others not just survive, but grow. Between missions, I trained to play football and later walked on to the 2007 LSU National Championship team. That season wasn’t about the spotlight—it was about proving to myself and others that with discipline and hope, healing is possible. After football, I stepped into ministry, coaching, and leadership development. I became a military chaplain, speaker, and facilitator—teaching soldiers, leaders, and everyday people how to push through pain and perform with purpose. I found myself helping executives in Fortune 500 companies, yet always returning to the same core truth: education is the key to transformation. Whether I was teaching children in underfunded youth programs, soldiers on the brink of giving up, or leaders lost in their success—I always felt most alive when I was helping someone learn, grow, and feel seen. My Calling: Professor and Consultant Today, I’m pursuing my Ed.D. in Organizational Change and Leadership at the University of Southern California. My goal is to become both a university professor and a leadership consultant—someone who can work in classrooms, boardrooms, and community centers to help others lead well, live whole, and inspire those around them. I’m writing a second edition of my book, Real Life Leadership, which blends my personal experiences with doctoral research to help others unlock both high performance and personal meaning. I want to create practical tools, teach in graduate programs, and speak in schools—especially in underserved communities and in spaces where trauma and leadership intersect. I don’t just want to teach theory—I want to teach from real life. Because the students I serve are living real lives too. My Why: Children Like Mine I’m the proud father of six children. We are a low-income, high-love household with deep faith and strong values. Each one of my kids inspires me to be better—not only for them, but for the world they’re growing up in. They’re not statistics—they’re future leaders. And I know that millions of children like them need teachers, counselors, and school leaders who see more than test scores and GPAs. They need people who see their soul. I want to help build that kind of education system. One where purpose is prioritized over performance. One where social-emotional learning, trauma-informed teaching, and identity-based education are normal—not rare. I want to challenge outdated assumptions about leadership and create classrooms where life experience is as valued as academic pedigree. The Change I Hope to Bring If I could change one thing in education, it would be this: I would train every teacher, counselor, and school leader to understand that many students don’t leave their pain at the door when they come to class. Instead of treating behavior as defiance, I’d help them see it as communication. We are educating future adults who will one day shape our communities, companies, and culture. If we ignore their inner lives, we’ll only teach them to perform—not to lead, live, or love well. I want to bring real-world mentorship, faith-informed leadership, and resilience training into classrooms—because we aren’t just teaching subjects. We’re shaping stories. A Final Word on Sierra Reading about Sierra Argumedo moved me deeply. I’ve lost friends to suicide, both in the military and in ministry. I’ve counseled people in the darkest moments of despair. And I’ve learned this: sometimes the brightest souls carry the heaviest burdens. Sierra wanted every child to feel seen and loved. That is exactly the kind of classroom I want to build—whether I’m teaching undergrads, high schoolers, or organizational leaders. Her life, though cut short, will continue through those of us who choose to teach, not just facts, but hope. A Verse That Guides Me There’s a verse in Proverbs that says: “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.” — Proverbs 22:6 I believe education is not just academic—it’s deeply spiritual. To train up a child means to guide, encourage, mentor, and love them through the process. That’s what I want to do in every space I teach in—from the classroom to the conference stage. Gratitude & Hope Receiving this scholarship would be an incredible gift. It would ease the financial burden on my family, allowing me to continue my studies and finish strong. More importantly, it would be an investment in the lives of the many students, children, and emerging leaders I’m committed to serving. Thank you for honoring Sierra’s legacy by giving others the chance to carry her light forward. I promise to do just that—with every class I teach, every book I write, and every life I’m blessed to impact. With gratitude, Joey Stutson

Scholarship Essay: Purpose Over Paycheck – A Father’s Pursuit of Real-Life Leadership Many students feel called to further their education, but financial limitations make that dream feel just out of reach. I know this tension deeply—not as a recent high school graduate, but as a husband, father of six, published author, Army veteran, and doctoral student striving to serve my family and community with everything I have. At this point in my journey, I’m not going back to school to find a job. I’m going back because I’ve found my calling—and I need the credential to unlock the doors that allow me to walk in it. I’ve been accepted into the University of Southern California’s Ed.D. program in Organizational Change and Leadership. It’s a dream come true. But I cannot afford to fund it alone—not with six growing children, rising living costs, and a heart that’s committed to investing in others more than hoarding for myself. This scholarship would directly empower me to turn adversity into advantage—not just for my family, but for the countless leaders and individuals I aim to inspire through my work. My Journey: From Trauma to Transformation At 18, I deployed to Iraq during my freshman year of college. I served as a combat infantryman in Operation Iraqi Freedom. I experienced trauma that most people can’t imagine—ambushes, sniper fire, and the loss of close friends. One mission nearly ended my life, but instead, it clarified my purpose. I returned home changed, with a deep desire to help people navigate pain, purpose, and performance with greater resilience. Between missions, I trained. I lifted weights in the desert and envisioned returning to the U.S. to try out for the LSU football team. Everyone thought I was crazy, but I made the team and became part of the 2007 National Championship roster. I didn’t play under the lights—but I practiced, worked, and overcame the mental toll of PTSD, academics, and raising a family. That season was a turning point. It proved I could beat the odds—and it showed me that leadership starts with how you show up when no one’s watching. My Calling: Real Life Leadership In the years that followed, I served as a military chaplain, corporate trainer, pastor, and coach. I’ve spoken to thousands, trained managers, counseled soldiers in crisis, and worked with high-performing teams. Yet, through it all, I’ve seen a painful truth: many people lead in public but suffer in private. They succeed professionally but struggle to find meaning in their lives. That’s why I wrote my book, Real Life Leadership. It’s not about achieving titles—it’s about becoming someone worth following. My message is simple: true leadership starts with inspiration, not just influence. And inspiration is born through adversity, faith, and showing up with integrity. Now, I want to build on this work. I want to bring practical, research-backed strategies into organizations, especially those struggling with burnout, disengagement, and mental health crises. I want to create systems that help high-achieving individuals (especially those from broken or disadvantaged backgrounds) experience both purpose and performance—not just one or the other. But to do that, I need more than experience. I need the academic credential, network, and training that this Ed.D. program provides. And I need help funding it. My Family: Six Reasons Why This Matters I’m the proud father of six children. They are my world—and my “why.” Every lesson I learn, I pass on to them. Every sacrifice I make, I do with their future in mind. But providing for a large family while pursuing a doctorate is a financial mountain. I’ve taken bold steps of faith before—planting churches, moving states with no safety net, walking on to a football team—but I’ve never asked for support like this. This scholarship would lift a major burden off my shoulders. It would allow me to focus on completing my program, finishing my second book (a research-integrated version of Real Life Leadership), and building a sustainable platform to serve others without compromising my ability to care for my wife and children. I know the cost is high—but I believe the return will be greater. Not just in dollars, but in lives impacted. My Future: Serving Leaders Who Grew Up Like Me I didn’t grow up with wealth. I didn’t even grow up with a father. In fact, my birth certificate says “father unknown.” For years, I carried the weight of that absence like a chain around my identity. It wasn’t until recently—thanks to a DNA test and a Fox News story—that I learned my biological family had been in my life the entire time without knowing it. That moment taught me something profound: sometimes the answers we seek are already in our lives—we just need help uncovering them. That’s what I want to do for others. There are millions of high-achieving men and women who grew up in hard places—fatherlessness, abuse, neglect, poverty—who are now in leadership positions, silently struggling with imposter syndrome, burnout, and emotional exhaustion. I want to be a voice for them. I want to train them, coach them, write for them, and speak to them—not with theory, but with lived experience and real research that changes lives. Through this doctoral program, I will have the tools and credibility to serve in a greater capacity—facilitating leadership development in corporate, military, and nonprofit sectors. Why This Scholarship Matters This scholarship would be more than financial support—it would be a validation of my purpose. It would be fuel for my mission. It would be a practical way of saying, “We believe in you. Now go help others believe in themselves.” The reality is that I’m not pursuing this degree to climb a corporate ladder. I’m pursuing it to build bridges—between pain and purpose, faith and leadership, inspiration and action. The Bible says in Galatians 6:9, “Let us not grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” I have no intention of giving up. But I am asking for help—to continue sowing good seeds that will produce a harvest in the lives of others. Final Word I believe education is a tool—not just for personal advancement, but for public transformation. I plan to use every ounce of this opportunity to give back—to write, train, speak, and build a legacy that my kids will be proud of. I’m not chasing degrees for prestige—I’m pursuing knowledge so I can pour out wisdom. Thank you for considering my story, my heart, and my mission. I would be honored to be selected as the recipient of this scholarship—and I promise to multiply every bit of support into impact that lasts far beyond me. With gratitude, Joey Stutson

From Combat to Calling — Real Life Leadership with Legacy Some people go to college to find themselves. I went to war. At 18 years old, I left my freshman year of college—along with a 3.5 GPA and dreams of playing football—to deploy to Iraq as a combat infantryman. I didn’t know it at the time, but that year in the desert would shape the rest of my life. I experienced unimaginable trauma—car bombs, sniper attacks, and the loss of 12 men from our brigade. One day, I witnessed a soldier shot right in front of me. I called in the sniper’s location and helped capture the attackers—who, as it turned out, were filming the ambush for propaganda. That footage went viral online. But behind that viral video was a 19-year-old kid trying to stay alive, make sense of his pain, and still hold on to a dream. Between missions, I trained. I lifted weights in body armor. I ran through the sand in my boots. My dream was to walk on to the LSU football team when I returned home. People thought I was delusional, but to me, it was therapy. When I came home, broken but breathing, I made good on that dream. I walked on to the LSU football team, earned a spot, and became part of the 2007 National Championship roster. I was redshirted, but that experience was more than football—it was proof that pain doesn’t disqualify you. It prepares you. But football wasn’t the finish line. Neither was surviving war. My life took me from combat to college, from the football field to fatherhood, from pastoring to public speaking. Today, I’m a husband and father of six children. And as chaotic as life can be, I’ve found meaning in the mess. I’ve learned that leadership is not about charisma—it’s about character. It’s not about being in charge—it’s about being consistent. I also grew up never knowing my biological father. My birth certificate says “father unknown.” For years, I wondered where I came from—until a DNA test and a Fox News story revealed the shocking truth: my biological family had been around me the whole time, and I never knew. That discovery rocked me, but it also clarified my purpose. I realized that fatherlessness, trauma, and adversity aren’t limitations. They’re invitations to lead differently—with authenticity, empathy, and purpose. That’s why I wrote my book, Real Life Leadership. It’s not just a book—it’s a movement. A calling. A message to anyone who’s been through hell and wondered if their life still mattered. I’m now pursuing my Doctor of Education in Organizational Change and Leadership at the University of Southern California because I want to take my message and methods to a larger stage. I want to equip high achievers—especially those who’ve grown up with trauma or instability—to lead well, live well, and leave a legacy. My research focuses on helping leaders not only succeed professionally but thrive personally. I’ve seen too many talented people burn out because they never dealt with the pain behind their ambition. My studies are rooted in real life—designed to help organizations build healthy leadership cultures where people feel inspired, not just responsible. This scholarship would directly support my ability to do that work without placing undue pressure on my family. With six children, every dollar counts. But more than the money, this scholarship represents belief—a belief that my past doesn’t disqualify me. It empowers me. Thank you for helping me do that. With gratitude,