Freedom is in believing God’s promises more than our worries. It is in loving His commands more than our desires and trusting His truths, even when it means discounting our own thoughts. Real freedom is not a throwing off of moral restraints or an unwillingness to yield; it is not a gratification of self as culture would have us believe. It is a throwing off of our sinful inclinations and living above them. Freedom is in living by the Spirit, a lifestyle thus described by the apostle Paul:
For those who live in accordance with the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit. For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace. -Romans 8:5-6
Where I “set my mind” is like choosing which room to sit in, where to read a book or host a friend. In this analogy, one room is sunny and airy and pleasant while the other is dim, cluttered, musty. I think you know which room is which.
God’s freedom is like a sunny room. I dwell there when I choose obedience and patience and gratitude and grace and genuine love. In the words of an old hymn, there I receive “life and rest and joy and peace.”
Alternatively, discontentment and bitterness about circumstances or people is more like a windowless hording zone with ashtrays balanced on heaps of magazines and a water spot on the ceiling. I hate going in there. At times I have felt chained in there, trapped. When I let fear torment me and anxiety shackle me, I have not freedom. When I compare or covet, I have not freedom. When I pet my anger or brood over my rights more than God’s mercies, when I mull over past wrongs or lay conjuring verbal jabs, I have no freedom. But God has the key to my chain and He unlocks me as soon as I ask. “Ask and you will receive.” It’s almost that easy.
When He unlocks my chain, He escorts me out to the hallway connecting the stifling room with the sunny room. It’s the hope hall. I have traversed it several times going one direction or the other. I have to unload my baggage there before I can step unburdened into the sun. There, I hand over my gauntlet rather than “throwing it down” (since there is no freedom in blame). I let Him peel off the twin ankle weights of fear and shame. And I relinquish the big jug balancing on my head of unreasonable expectations of myself and others. I let Him remove the burdensome backpack of discontent and worry and vain pursuit of worldly goals. God does not wait for us to be perfect before He invites us in- we won’t be until heaven. But, unsurprisingly, thought habits that block joy and peace… block joy and peace. Who knew? So we do have to shed some barriers before entering His keeping room.
In there, knowledge and wisdom stock white shelves on one wall and dahlias tap the glass of the big window on the other. The wood floor is sanded for dancing. The breeze carries the sound of wind chimes and the fragrance of allysum in the screen door through which I can see birds in the meadow and the forest beyond. At one end of the capacious room sits an oversized overstuffed chair and a nesting table for my Bible, a perfect place for soul-nourishing rest. The longer I linger there, the purer my thoughts become and my bad habits begin to fall away. Godliness becomes easier, relationships improve, and I feel myself draw nearer nearer to the Father.
As I wrote out this analogy in my journal, I prayed, “Lord, may this be the state of my heart, a place where I trust you above all thought and feeling. Where I wait for you and receive from you and praise you because I abide in you so completely. You are the only one ample enough to abide in. You are abundant.”
I don’t know why I willingly leave this freedom room sometimes. “Prone to wonder, Lord I feel it. Prone to leave the God I love,” the song goes. I stoop to pick up my backpack, strap on my ankle weights, re-balance my toxic jug or hold my gauntlet in my throwing arm. Sometimes, I am able to hold captive my thoughts and humbly turn around, leaving the tempting baggage on the floor. When I do, that victory is Christ’s. It is by His grace alone that anyone can live by the Spirit at all.
Only when I hope, above all else, in 1) God’s steadfast love and faithfulness, 2) Christ’s promise of salvation eternal and 3) the Holy Spirit’s gift of help and growth in the meantime, am I ready to experience “life and rest and joy and peace.”
To Him be the glory forever and ever. Amen.
-Heather
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