My little corner of freedom…
Freedom looks like cursive writing. One letter flows into another and beauty is created with ease and fluency. I’m free when I write. It’s as if I take the words that tightly bind me and let them all out onto a page like a long piece of rope. The thoughts that take up space in my mind – setting them free sets me free.
Freedom is space. It is madly swinging my arms around in a dance like a wildman. No anxiety, no fear. Freedom is running until my legs trip over themselves and rolling down a hill in field of daisies laughing my lungs out. I can breathe.
Freedom is the crescendo of a classical music piece. It is in the dancers leap. It is in an airplane’s wing. Freedom lies in following the rules to break through limitations. Ask the Wright Brothers. Ask Usain Bolt. Ask Steve Jobs. Ask Jesus Christ.
Freedom is choice. My ability to choose is a gift from my heavenly Father. It is the eternal tennis match: I use His freedom to live in freedom and He gives me more…freedom. It is the eternal mirroring of grace until I am seen in Him and He is set free most ostentatiously through me.
I choose to be bound to that freedom.
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