Freedom

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I remember the first time I got in the car to drive myself. At age sixteen, there was nothing like being out from under authority, making my own decisions, and answering to no one… even if only for a short trip to the grocery.
 

I felt so independent with the radio blaring and only one hand on the wheel. I hung my arm out the window so it could ride the wind, warned the world about “The Grand Illusion” with Styx’s Dennis DeYoung, and peeled off the line a little too fast when the light turned green. No one could tell me to slow down, turn down, or settle down.
 
After I parked, I caught a glimpse of myself in the store window, strutting across the parking lot and swinging my keys.
 

And there, in my reflection, I saw freedom.
 

Young adults and young countries both have that look. Out from under the dictators of their lives, they can finally sing their own songs and wave their own flags. And strut their stuff.
 

We Americans feel so invincible with our secure borders and prosperity. We let our fat arms ride the wind, swing around our rights, and worship the images in our mirrors.
 
And why shouldn’t we feel great? We are so blessed to have our own soil, to safely worship in our own churches, to own our own homes, to pursue our own callings. We truly have the sweetest spot on earth.
 

But still, we are not free. And we know it.
 

We sing about “putting boots in their ass” and we dress in our flag’s colors, but no one admits that secure borders and dress blues don’t keep fear away.
 

We fly Old Glory and rise to pledge allegiance, but no one lets on that they are too weak to stand up to the winds of pressure.
 

Once a year, we go outside and shoot fireworks to light up the night sky, but inside and every day, we shoot-up or drug-up to avoid the pain of living in darkness.
 

From ten-thousand feet up, we are the picture of freedom. But the view from within our homes and our hearts reveals that we are trapped by terror, caged by culture, and enslaved to our addictions.
 
But this is not an American problem. It’s a human problem. All around the world, babies of all colors are born with a liberty bell ringing in their hearts, placed there by our Creator. We all have an innate desire for freedom and all that it offers.
 

Because God wants us to be free. All throughout the Bible, He holds freedom up as something good that He offers to all of us.
 

”For you were called to freedom, brothers.” Galatians 5:13a
 
But we have gravely misinterpreted the tolling in our hearts. Foolishly, we have been duped by the Grand Illusion. We listen to voices that tell us that the worst place to be is under someone else’s thumb, and we stop short of the freedom to which we are called. And we settle for a lesser version offered by a Prince of lies. 
 
Freedom is quiet, countercultural, and sometimes even looks like slavery. So we dismiss it. 

For the shiny keys in our hands, the anthems playing on our radios, the power of our engines revving beneath our feet…they all distract us from what’s more. From what’s better.
 

The process is necessary, I suppose. We must experience, to some degree, an imitation of freedom so that we know that it’s not what it claims to be. We are wise after a coming of age when we find out that the absence of authority isn’t freedom at all.
 

Not at all.
 
At sixteen, on the outside looking in, I thought I was the picture of freedom. But also at sixteen, I believed that I was the center of the universe. And my heart was far from being free.
 

But my Rescuer pursued, and offered me His freedom.
 

The freedom that comes not from taking up arms, but from One who laid down His life.
 

The freedom that waves not in a flag of glory, but in the blood-stained cloths found in an empty grave.
 

The freedom that sings not songs of power or pride, but of grace and humility.

The Way to this freedom is narrow and off the beaten path, but near. 
Freedom is found in the Bell Ringer. He is the Way. He is the Rescuer. 
 

Freedom comes through submission to the One who breaks through the grand, American, and human illusions to pursue His people across every wave of grain and purple mountain…
 

..so they may know real love, protection, and freedom.
“…you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”
John 8:32



Linking up with (in)couragers

The Knowing

 
Click click click.
My high heels skittered across the classroom floor while I worked to finished the last of my bulletin boards. I took a deep breath, puffing myself up, and admired my work. School would start any minute and I was ready.
The art supplies were arranged and labeled in cute, colorful containers. The reading area was cozy and inviting. My lesson plans were complete and my teaching certificate hung on the wall.
Then my students arrived. Before the end of the first week, they left the markers uncapped and abused our class library. One child pulled and ripped the bulletin board border and another wrote a bad word on the cubbies. I clicked up and down the aisles, dragging those second graders through my lesson plans, but no one was learning. After a couple of weeks, the sight of my certificate made me cringe.

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An Offering in Cursive: A True Story

He’s a student I’ll always remember. It’s a story I’ll never forget.
It began on the first day of school, after the unpacking of markers, glue sticks, and tissue boxes, and after I had asked my students to write me a letter about themselves.
I stood in the back of the classroom watching them work, wondering what kind of year was ahead of me. It’s so hard to tell on the first day…

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Death By Numbers

Recently, I was in the checkout line at the grocery store with my overloaded cart when a lady behind me caught my eye and said, “You must have as many kids as I do. The three gallons of milk give it away.”

I smiled and reached into my cart. “Yes, three gallons- PLUS a half-gallon of almond milk!” I held up the carton like a trophy.

We both chuckled and secretly sized each other up. The Game has begun.

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Window Open or Closed?

This has been the year of decisions for me. Big ones about careers, schools, and health. Smaller ones about paint color, gym memberships, and cars. I hate making decisions. But, then again, I don’t know many people who love this unavoidable part of life.

Decisions, no matter the size, tend to make me exhausted and often afraid.

I’m afraid if I choose the wrong paint color, the room will look unattractive, and we’ll have to repaint, and money will be wasted which will eliminate the possibility of getting new couches which means we won’t be able to get the new rug in that different color scheme…

I’m afraid if I pay for the car repairs instead of selling the car, I’ll be faced with more repairs later and out more money, which means not being able to buy the car later, which means our family of six will have to make due with one fewer car…

I’m afraid that if I send my kids to that school, they won’t get a good education, make the right friends, or be encouraged in their faith, then they will become criminals and I’ll be visiting them in jail…

I don’t know about you, but these things are scary.

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In the Dead of Winter

 

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One of my kids cried when I reported that another snow storm was coming. None of us ridiculed, belittled, or discouraged his tears. We all just shook our heads and silently hugged. We know, buddy…we know.

Seriously. This winter is relentless. Everyone is at their breaking point. With another round of closings, grocery panics, salt, boots, coats, shoveling, scraping, we must admit that if we didn’t have the self- control that my child lacks, we would all be crying too. Continue reading

The 24-Hour Rule

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This past Christmas, I was reminded of one of our family’s rules.  My youngest received a gift that was interesting to her siblings.  Soon after it was unwrapped, her brother was asking to “see” it (which really means hold it and play with it until you beg for it back).  Big sister came to her rescue and reminded everyone of our time-tested rule, “You don’t have to share on the first day!” Everyone nodded. It’s true.

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The List

I love checked-off lists. They make me feel productive and in control. I make them for every part of my life.  I’m one of those people who writes things on my to-do list after it’s done just so I can cross it off.  And you better believe that I leave my completed lists in plain view for God and others to see how efficient I am. I give myself secret pats-on-the-back and high-fives.

I’ve been around Christians long enough to know that I must also have a list for my prayers. So I do. (check) Mine is lengthy.  I’ve been praying for many of the entries on this list for months, some even years.  A few for a decade.  It’s been a long time since I’ve crossed anything off because of a yes-answer.  Many have been no-answered.  What eats at me the most are the ones that remain seemingly ignored.

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