Living in Freedom

Living in Freedom

Rom 6:6-7

Gal 4:9

Col 2:20

Col 1:13

Gal 5:1

I am a prisoner, sitting in a dungeon with shackles on my wrists and ankles.  I am striving to follow the world, to look just right, act just right; I am striving for perfection.  I wallow in my cell.  I hear of the name of some “Jesus,” but I am so consumed by my constant striving for happiness that I pay no attention to anything that doesn’t bring me instant gratification.  One day, I look out the window from the dungeon, and see a man. Instantly, I know that He is the one I have heard about. He is this so called “Jesus.”  He is walking my direction, bruised and beaten, His body covered in striped scars.  I hear the heavy door being pulled open as He enters the dungeon.  I hear His footsteps on the creaking stairs, and then suddenly I see Him.  He looks worse in person than from the window.  One of His eyes is swollen shut; bruises and wounds cover His flesh completely.  Then, the softest of sounds comes from His mouth, as He says to me, “Lyndsey, I am setting you free from your sin, my beautiful child.  I have paid the price, I have paid it in full!  You can live in freedom now! Come! Come with me!”  He smiles, revealing a broken tooth from behind His lip.  His face radiates with delight as He sets me free, and He breaks the chains that hold me down with ease.  The burden is lifted, and the shackles fall to the ground, defeated!  He picks me up, sets me gently on my feet, grabs me by the hand, and leads me out of the gloomy dungeon and into the beautiful outdoors.  He kisses me on the forehead, and I am overwhelmed with thankfulness!  I walk outside and dance about in freedom. 

I am in love with this Man who has set me free, and I ordain Him my Lord and Savior without hesitation!  The thought of ever turning my back on Him is absolute nonsense.  To this One who has freed me, I owe everything! 

But, after some time, I start thinking about my little dungeon again, and wonder how it’s doing.  I start to just wonder how the chains are doing, if they’ve moved or are laying just how I left them?  I decide to go back for a little visit.  I check to make sure Jesus isn’t near me; I don’t want Him to know I’m going for this little visit.  I glance back over my shoulder, and open the heavy door.  I creep down the stairs, and the familiar smell brings back memories of my time there.  I find the broken shackles, still lying there just as I left them.  One thought leads to the next, and after some time, I start to miss the shackles.  I roll around in them, and tangle myself up in the broken chains.  Something inside me knows that I shouldn’t, but I continue anyway, writhing about in my rebellion with a small smirk on my face.

Then, from the corner of my eye, I see a figure outside the window.  It is Jesus, who has watched the whole scenario.  He looks at me- one eye swollen shut- with a sad look on His face.  “Lyndsey, I have freed you, my child! Come out and live in freedom!” He begs. 

I notice tears building in His eyes.  I can’t stand to look at His grieving face, so I look down at the broken chains on top of me, and sulk in self-pity.  I taste the saltiness of a single tear that streams down my cheek and hits my mouth.  I can hear the voice of Satan, a voice filled with delight over my self-entanglement.  “You really are pretty tangled,” he tells me, and I can picture his smile at the thought of my misery.  “If Jesus really loved you, He’d come rescue you now, wouldn’t he?” he whispers with a mocking voice.  For a few moments, I sit in silence.  Then, the memory of my Savior hits me, the way He called me by name, picked me up to my feet and guided me outdoors to freedom. 

“He already has rescued me!” I shout with confidence.  I stand up, realizing that I can do so with ease, and the chains fall to the ground, for they have already been broken.  I run up the stairs, and Jesus is waiting for me, holding the heavy door wide open.  His smile returns as I step back into His freedom.  He wipes the tear from my face, and grabs my hand.  We dance in freedom once again, and I experience pure, indescribable joy. 

I reflect on the fact that He shouldn’t welcome me back with open arms after I have turned my back on Him and mocked the freedom He provides.  But His love for me is a Love unlike anything I have ever experienced.  It is unconditional.  For the remainder of my days, I wake up with the rising sun in sheer amazement of this Unconditional Love.