FREEDOM

July 4, 2011

Freedom... That is what we, as Americans, celebrate today, our country’s declaration of independence from oppressive government. Something I am extremely passionate about: Preserving this heritage for my children and grandchildren and great grandchildren. I value the concept, the idea, the truth of freedom and liberty. Yet I am learning that true freedom is not something that can be held by a country, it cannot be written on a piece of paper, it cannot by turned into a law. Freedom is a transformation of the heart. It is the renewal of our minds. The former is just an expression of the transformation and renewal that happens with each of us individually. Even in this great country, the idea of freedom started with the journey of some very determined people who wanted the freedom to worship God, to live out the spiritual freedom they had experienced in their own lives… It was the manifestation of what was happening inside. Without it, this country is just another nation, where people fight for there own individual expression of freedom. That only breeds disunity and discontent among our fellow countrymen and woman. True freedom is where the Spirit of the Lord is. (2 Corinthians 3:17) When many people come together with the Spirit of God upon them it results in a people, a community, a nation and a world where there is unity and peace and love. No amount of politics, parties, conventions, meetings or world order can bring true freedom. “It was for freedom that Christ set us free; therefore keep standing firm and do not be subject again to a yoke of slavery,” Galatians 5:1. Everyonne in this world is a slave to this world. To the corruption of what this world has to offer, "So I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh. For the flesh desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the flesh. They are in conflict with each other, so that you are not to do whatever you want. But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law. The acts of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery;  idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like. I warn you, as I did before, that those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God. But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.  Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit." Galatians 5:16-25. We have to declare our freedom in Christ and take that first step with the Spirit of God.

This kind of freedom starts with me. It starts with you and then spreads to the next person, then the next, then the next, until an entire community is changed, then a city, then a state, then a nation, then the world. Even the good intentions of all the pastors and missionaries and clergy of the world cannot change the heart of people. It is in the heart that we must grasp for every morsel of truth and freedom we can get our hands on.

So what is it that we are trying to free ourselves from? Anything and everything that binds us to this world. Anything and everything that controls our thoughts and emotions that cause us harm or cause us to harm others. Anything and everything that keeps us from the love of a Savior, who died to gives us that freedom, in Him, to live eternally after we leave this wicked world. Anything and everything that keeps us from being a light, a life source to people who live in this world. Anything that is the leading of the flesh and keeps us from the being led by the Spirit of God.

I am one in chains. A woman who sits here writing about the very chains that keeps me from walking in total freedom. I am one who drags behind me the bondage of unforgiveness, anger, hurt, pain and fear. With every day that passes my fight for freedom continues…Fighting, unrelenting until the bondage is gone and I can stand with great resolve, in the face of the wickedness that tries to overtake my soul.

Yet, in my finest hour, with Braveheart qualities, and Joan of Arc passion, I still fall short of the freedom I desire. I realize that it is not I who can bring freedom to my spirit and soul. It is only the by the grace and love of Jesus Christ. It is in this place that I feel helpless, vulnerable, and spiritually blind. I have relinquished control of my own destiny and handed it over to my Lord, with great reluctance. I sense the danger, can smell the wicked stench surround me, but can see nothing. In this great surrender of my own will, I have to trust the God who breathed life into me. What an ironic disposition… trusting the very God who created me? Why would I not trust Him? Yet, part of me does not. There has been suffering and loss, I have walked through the wilderness, and that is why I wonder, can I? Can I trust a God that watched me go through such heart ache? A gentle tug on my heart reminds me that the Creator of this universe watched His son go through the greatest pain in history. Can I trust Him? Can I trust my God with my heart? I have no other choice. I have already walked down the road and failed… I have already yielded my sword in my own strength and suffered the battle wounds of fighting this battle on my own. I cannot, I will not walk down this road again. With all of my knowledge of the Word of God, in all my conversations with my Savior, in all of my gifts by the Holy Spirit, I still walked down the road of independence. The road that promised freedom from the past and hurt, but it was a religious sidetrack that got me only more scars, more hurt.

So here I am…blind to the road before me, unable to see what lies ahead. Not sure how we will pay our rent, buy food, pay for gas. Not sure if my mom will live or die, unknowing if I will ever speak to my father again. Unsure if I will ever be vindicated for the things that happened to me as a little girl. I am blind. I cannot see if my kids will do all that they have set out to do. I step into a world unfamiliar to me. Tasting, smelling and hearing the freedom that lies ahead, but so unsure of my next step. Will I fall? Will I go the wrong way? Is there danger ahead? It has paralyzed me. It is sucked the life out of me, it has stolen my joy. But no more!!! I will not let the blindness hinder me from being who God called me to be.

While watching a show called “Expedition Impossible” the Lord spoke to me about my spiritual blindness. There are 12 teams of 3, each going through intense physical and intellectual journeys to reach the safe place at the end of each leg of the race. There is a team called "No Limits" and one of the three men is blind. This man is no ordinary man. Before this game show, he climbed Mt. Everest, hiked, canoed and traveled to many places. Watching him and listening to him, I am amazed at his joy and passion. I watched him ride a camel and horse, climb sand dunes and mountains, repel down a mountain, kayak and trust his 2 other teammates. His teammates wear a bell for him to tune into to know where to go. I am amazed at how he delights in each challenge, seemingly enjoying the journey. That is the place where he and I differ. He enjoys his journey in the darkness and I am complaining along the journey in the darkness. In some cases, I will not even move. I will just sit and waste precious time. I have learned a great deal from this man. In his physical blindness he has learned to enjoy the journey of his life. I too, want to do the same. In this dark place, not knowing where I am going or how I am going to get there, I need to learn how to enjoy the journey. When it seems overwhelming, like I am standing on the edge of a cliff, instead of being overtaken with fear and anxiety, I need to get on my repelling gear and just keep on going….
( http://abc.go.com/watch/expedition-impossible/SH55126301?CID=google_sem_1 )

So today, I will tune my ear to the bell my Lord wears and take my first step to enjoying the journey of complete and total freedom!

The graveyard

I wrote this on Friday, June 3, 2011. The next morning was when I got a phone call from my little brother that my mom was in the hospital and might not make it...I never came back to it, until today.  It is not finished... but is Part 1 of this intimate journey of healing I am on... It will be continued.

June 3, 2011


I have come to this place, this gloomy place. It looks like a graveyard, marked with crosses and adorned with flowers. My heart hurts. I can feel the death all around me. I smell its fearful fate. I look around and see so many graves imprinted with my name. So many parts of me I have buried. So many times I have been here. But I have lingered here longer than I have ever before.

My footprints are still fresh in the ground at the grave next to the one I am standing over. It is never a labor to come here. The graves are already dug. The grave stones already marked. I am alone, or so it seems. There is no joy here, only regret, pain, fear, suffering...it lingers in the air as a stale stench that burns my nose. I want to run, but am beckoned by this hole calling for me.

I once thought these graves were dug for my life...but in my frequent visitation to this yard, I now know they are dug for the death to those things inside of me that cause destruction to my life. In this death I see life in my soul, in my flesh, in my spirit. The wind shifts and I smell the fresh earth, bringing me back to this place where I stand. I want to get the hell out of here, I want to run, but the quiet pull of freedom keeps me still.

What is it... why am I here again? What is dying? that I have to bury?

I look up and see a man standing on the other side of this chasm...I tremble at the thought that someone else is here. HE is holding a shovel, hands dirty, deep eyes. I turn my gaze to the empty hole in the ground. The range of emotion overtakes me and tears flow down my face and drop into the hole beneath me. One by one they fall until there are no more.

I am mourning.... the loss... of the deepest part of me that has defined my being. I ponder the intensity of the pain, the burden of others. I am lost in this place, trying to find my way. Wondering how I can get through it, when it will be over. In my thoughts I see, in my heart I hear. I must take a breath, I must breathe in with deep conviction of truth. So I come back to the grave to bury the contents of the tears. I open my eyes and see new earth before me. The hole is covered, the cross is at the foot and the fragrance of the flowers fills my nostrils.

I did not fill the hole. I stand and ponder this process. The only thing I came to do was let go of the part of me that did not belong, grieve the loss, rejoice in the freedom this death brings me. The sun is setting and the orange glow reflects of the cold stone that protrudes though the earth. I walk to read the inscription of the stone that is capturing the sunlight. It reads “Untimely death.” The earth trembles beneath my feet and I shutter at the thought. Below those words is my name, written by the hand of a child. There is no cross here to mark this death, only cold stone. It is not shadowed by the cross and adorned with flowers. It is the part of me that I shoved into death and buried in order to survive in this world. The part of me I denied.

My heart feels constricted, panic overtakes my mind. Breathe, breathe, breathe. A deep sigh comes from my lungs and I am able to rest, for a moment. There is a shovel leaning on the tree that shadows this place. My heart embraces this truth, I must unearth her! I must set her free! This part of me that is decaying must be raised from the dead. Frantically I grab the shovel and start to dig. With fervent ambition I dig and did and dig. The deeper I go, the more intense the emotion that consumes me. I am dirty and sweat is dripping from my brow. I am getting tired, I am in pain. I hit something with the shovel. The sound echoes in the hole and surrounds my head. My hands ache from the perpetual motion of digging. I am weak and shaking. Breath comes from my mouth and clears the dirt from the words... I relinquish. I do not want to know what it says. A shadow falls on the words and I cannot make out what it said. In this dark hole of death, as the sun sets, the man who was one before me, stood over me, looking down into the this place. “Open the box,” He spoke almost in a song. I can no longer stand as fatigue saturates my being. I cannot and will not open this box! Why did I do this? Why did I come to this place? My hands tremble from pure exhaustion, yet he beckons again, “Open it…”