On Freedom

Lately I've been thinking a lot about the subject of freedom. Not in a physical, "proud to be an American" sense, but in a spiritual sense. Thanks to the suggestion of a friend, I read this verse from the Bible:  "He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives, and release from darkness for the prisoners." (Isaiah 61:1)

These were the words of Isaiah the prophet, who was speaking to the Israelites, God's people, about the promised Messiah. In the past, I've read them and regarded them as a reference to the plight of ancient Israel, as well as God's current promises to those who are suffering under great persecution or deprivation. To be honest, I've never considered them to be personal.

But lately, I've had enslavements of the heart on my mind--my devotion to those things that, deep down, I believe will provide me with worth and security. In my life these are many--beauty, importance, success, the admiration of friends and family. I don't consciously worship them, of course, but my patterns, my feelings, my responses to having them ripped away, tell a story of profound servitude. Yesterday, I went to the doctor for an annual check up. Having not seen her in a year, I had a few things to ask about--a few things that, it turns out, are normal as you get older. [Ahem. Excuse me?] Like putting on a few pounds. And having a bit of back pain. And not being in perfect working order on the female front. She actually said, "if you want to have more children, I don't think I'd put it off," meaning that, you know, it might not be so easy later. Of course, that's really no big deal--we all know dozens of (young, healthy) women who have had babies in a "not so easy" way. But when I left I felt beaten down. Sad. And, deep down, really awful about myself.

Why? Well, my self-image was wobbling. The "way I look" had been compromised by weight gain (among other things), and suddenly I felt less valuable than the person who believed, an hour before, that she was back to her pre-pregnancy size. My mind began to spin through an array of scenarios that would enable me to drop the extra pounds quickly, to fit more exercise into my week, and to regain my confidence as efficiently as possible, without neglecting any other of the 20 balls I've thrown up in the air. Finding the perfect solution nearly impossible, I breathed a long sigh, hung my head, and spent the rest of the day living out feelings of defeat and lethargy. The boys probably just thought I was a little testy--but behind the curtain, I was feeling the impact of bondage to the way I appear. Is this familiar to you?

In stark contrast to this up and down, proud-then-insecure way of living stands freedom. Life gloriously unshackled by the whims of fashion, the opinions of tastemakers, and the "what do you think of me's." Freedom is life lived without the need to maintain a tight grip on my circumstances and my world, lest failure creep up and crush me. In my mind's eye, the free woman can get back up after a fall, pursue a different path that the culture around her dictates, and enjoy the blessings that life hands her because she is not distracted by thrall to the idols of her heart.  In the words of the Bible, she can throw back her head and "laugh at the days to come" (Proverbs 31). She can pursue her dreams. She can say no to the things that are too much, and yes to risks--even when they scare her. Like my youngest son, she can alternately cry, laugh, rage, and throw herself, needy, into the arms of one who loves her. And why is she so free? Because (like my son) she knows that she is loved no matter what; she has been given, by a loving Father, the irrefutable worth of Christ.

Gradually, gradually, as I walk through life with a slow-growing faith in Jesus, I see glimpses of this freedom. And I become more aware of the forces in my own life that threaten it. Lately, I've noticed myself feeling a sense of servitude toward the Internet--needing to update my blog or keep it up to some invisible standard of excellence in order to maintain what vague reputation I've achieved here. It's ironic that what was started as a vessel for vulnerability and freedom for me can so quickly become a means to undermine that very freedom. But such is the twisted-ness of the human heart. And so, for the past few weeks, I've been praying for insight about God's design for this little plot of land in cyberspace. And that my messy heart wouldn't pollute it with mechanisms for my own personal success, but use it, instead, as an instrument of His glory. Perhaps that will be as simple as encouraging you to investigate your creative urges, to value them, to live out the gifts that God planted in your DNA. Or maybe it's something else. We'll see.

What I do know, however, is this. As much as I want you to find inspiration here, and color, and DIY projects and pretty pictures, I also want you to find reality--and be freed to live a real life, too. I'm not sure that I'm very good at that--presenting the whole picture, snotty noses and all.  It's my default mode to tie everything up in a neat, A+ type of a bow. But no one needs another unrealistic, interweb mom to compare herself to--least of all me! And so I'm going to make more of an effort to share the ups and the downs. And I hope you'll feel freedom to call me out when you think I'm keeping the frayed edges to myself (because, don't be deceived--they're everywhere!). Imperfection, for me, is grace...freedom...life. Let's help each other hang out there.

Happy Wednesday, peeps.