“Brothers and sisters, you can be free!”

The words came fast and rushed up from inside my heart. I hurried to write them down, driving on the freeway scrawling nearly-unintelligible phrases on the nearest scraps of paper I could find.

That was a month ago. Now I’m sitting here on this cold Wednesday morning when one cup of coffee is not nearly enough, and I have trouble believing my own words.

You can be free.

It’s the hope, I think, that has kept me walking forward. That has driven me to venture outside the safety of my religious comfort zone and wander closer and closer to Jesus.

It’s the promise of the Gospel. But today, it’s hard to grasp.

Recently I’ve taken up flipping through my old journals, reading the stories I wrote as they unfolded years ago. In them, I see a scared, trapped version of myself. Desperately trying to find God, aching to be free.

I want to go back and tell him, tell me, “You can be free!” In my dreams at night, I do. I stop believing the chains and let my heart carry me away.

But the journey to freedom isn’t a moment, it’s a lifetime. One step at a time. And when I’m awake, it’s easy to forget.

So today, I’m going to sip this coffee and whisper to myself again, “You can be free!”

[ Image: TNZA ]