Maybe it’s because I’ve not been feeling well this week. Maybe my thoughts are with dear family members in tough situations. Maybe it’s because I’m reading a novel about the Underground Railroad.
Whatever the case, when I think “free,” I think of Heaven.
I imagine the crippled diabetic leaving behind her wheelchair, the blind beggar seeing gold-paved streets, the Parkinson’s patient sitting calm and still and steady at Jesus’ feet. I can see the bullied, the neglected, the ostracized, the enslaved, those labels all melting away in the welcome of Heaven. I think of myself no longer struggling against this selfish flesh, nothing restraining me from living out Christ’s character.