Free {31 Days of Five-Minute Free Writes}

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.

I don’t picture the red, white, and blue waving over verdant spaces in fresh air. It isn’t soldiers and grand battles that come to mind. I don’t hear patriotic tunes.

I hear Negro spirituals.

I think those antebellum lyricists were onto something when they sang of Heavenly freedom. They, of all people, could’ve written volumes about desiring earthly independence. They could have sung of physical release from shackles, of escape to geography-based liberty. But theirs is a legacy of longing for the true freedom no one could remove them from.

An eternal free.

This post is part of 31 Days of Five-Minute Free Writes, an exercise in writing a timed, prompted post every day during the month of October. For me, it's a challenge to move beyond prideful perfectionism, to write more freely, and to share more openly.