THE BEAUTY AND BURDEN OF FREEDOM

“I want to be free! I want freedom. I am tired of responsibilities and I don’t want to answer to anyone. I want to be my own man, make my own choices. Go where I want and do as I please when I please.”

That’s the cry for freedom.

We all have gone through or will go through this phase at one point in our lives.

I loved authority and order but I hated to be told all the time what to do and how to do it. I wanted to be my own boss and answer to no one. I lived in absolute comfort and peace in my father’s house. There was little that I desired and did not have. My father gave me all that life entreats to ensure I lacked nothing good.

BUT, I was restless. There was something lacking still. There was a need I could not quite fill.  I looked at the lives of the seemingly free. They seemed to go and come when they pleased. They could do whatever they pleased and life seemed to lay no consequences at their feet. They were as free and as happy as larks.

I desired that. Freedom!

I walked out of my father’s house. I was tired of the pressures of responsibility, chores, discipline and constant correction. I walked out of my father’s cover and constant warnings of the dangers without. I walked out in search of freedom; freedom to breathe and be; freedom to explore and discover. I walked away from my father’s unending supply. I took what I had and hoped to figure out life for myself. I walked away from my father’s house and...

My father respected my choice and allowed me to leave.

At last!

I found freedom. I took in a deep breath and exhaled. I ran wild and my life was indeed a circus. I did not beg for friends, they found me. They were carefree and kind and fed my need for freedom. They encouraged my exploits and praised my idiosyncrasies. They helped me in my pursuit of freedom and in my bid to abandon all that kept me grounded. I became as free and as happy as a lark.

Yet, I lacked joy.

I had no joy and peace eluded me. I missed my father and longed for his approval. I wished I could talk to him but I could not call him because I knew I had failed him.  I allowed myself tears, once, when I was alone in the dark and scolded myself in the morning, “Be strong and prove to the world that you are your own boss.”

Still, I lacked joy.

How do I explain to you the pain and fear of knowing that you are a failure in the midst of your seeming success? That’s exactly how I felt.

How do I explain to you the envy and the jealousy I felt for those who waited and got their fathers’ blessings? That’s exactly how I felt.

How do I explain to you the strain of staying happy when I knew no peace? That’s exactly how I felt.

I thought.

I ran away from over analysing things and thinking things through but thoughts of how low I’d fallen weighed me down. I was inundated by my fleeting success and yet plagued by restlessness.

I wanted freedom!

I sought my friends to share with them my pain, they deserted me. I drew deep in search of myself and all that I truly lacked. I felt abandoned by my father and all who cared for me. My house of ace cards, built on the sands of my fantasies crumbled around me.

Castle in Spain!

I woke up from my dreams and gnawing thoughts of my fallen state assailed me. Accompanied by shame, I thought I was no better than the pigs.

I wanted freedom.

Guilt gripped me with its iron clad fist. I fought for freedom. Pain sought to rip out my heart with its coal red hands. I ran for freedom. Death hoped to comfort me with its large cold arms. I chose freedom.

I ran home to my father and offered to be corrected, punished, disgraced and then accepted and loved. I threw myself at his mercy and begged that he did with me as he pleased. I was certain that if he flogged me in anger, I would feel loved. If my father screamed at me, I would feel loved. If he looked at me with the pain of disappointment, I would feel loved.

I would feel loved if only, he would look at me, touch me, even if in anger.

I wanted freedom.

I ran home to my father and he opened his arms and embraced me. He kissed me with love and restored me to his original plan for me and said the words I never hoped to hear again; “I love you.”

Freedom is the love of the Father that frees me from the bondage of sin and death.

Freedom is the love of the Father that holds me to a higher standard of right standing with him.

Freedom is the choice of rightness within the confines of His will.

Freedom is responsibility within the sovereignty of our right to choose.

Freedom is submitting our choice to His approval and accepting His will and way as final authority.

Freedom is the willingness to be corrected and accepted in the beloved.

I am the prodigal child and here is the beauty and burden of freedom.