Liberation has a way of
sneaking up on you, even when you don’t particularly deserve it. Freedom’s agents
appear in disguise – in persons and things that we might not suspect – and do
their work on our hearts with a laser surgeon’s skill. We must be vigilant
against their schemes lest we let loose of our favorite binding chains.
Take today for
instance, I’d had a long day of riding and walking before heading down to the
bi-annual Phantom of the Auction, our church’s biggest fundraising night for
our youth groups. I was somewhat determined to go down, bid on a few silent
auction items, and finish the evening in the back of the courtyard during the
live auction, arms crossed and checkbook firmly in my back pocket. My release
from the comfortable bondage of some long-held bitterness actually began in my
own home and by my own daughter; how could she do that to me? A few words, a
little hug, and liberation began to seep in. Then when we got down there and I
saw all the work some loving people had done on the behalf of the children I
needed to wrap the chains a little tighter for fear of losing them all
together. The breaker though were the kids themselves. Jr. High and High School
kids wandered around, smiles on their faces while they carried around trays of
goodies while they watched as tens of tens of adults meandered around the floor
like a stream though a meadow while opening their purses and taking out their
wallets. The ones not loaded down with trays hugged me.
Those little varmints were
infectious. Soon, a significant link of my favorite chain fell away. When I
looked into the outbox of my soul I saw that the chain link was moldy and my
nose wrinkled up at the stench; I knew that it was of my own doing. I left it
in the outbox and as I did a couple of recent decisions that I’d made seemed
more right than ever. I felt lighthearted for the rest of the night and a joy
that I recognized took the place of my old familiar bonds.
I shouldn’t really hold
the church kids or the loving adults at the auction completely to blame for
this, not really even my own wife and kids. I set myself up really. The night
before I’d written a scene in my story that was an outtake from my own life;
that very first Mission Arizona for me where a bunch of Junior High kids and
advisors healed me of a long standing and deeply rooted bitterness towards God.
I began seeing a certain grudge I’d been holding onto was poisoning me, making
me far less the man God wants of me. I followed that late night’s writing with a
day spent with riding friends at the motorcycle show; their camaraderie was
infectious; the writing and the companionship hastened the rusting out of the
crucial link of chain.
It has amazed me how
liberating it is to have a revelation of my own culpability in the bondage of
my spirit. I feel sheepish and glad-hearted all at the same time.
Resistance to the
forces of freedom is foolish, they can sneak up on you when you least expect
it. Don’t fight it; embrace it and get on with living.
In His grip, jerry
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