Five Minute “Friday”: free

Wow – another week has flown by, with less blogging than I hoped for but more summer moments like I’ve wished for. Catching fireflies, homemade ice cream, pool-splashing, etc. So I return to Five Minute Friday (or Saturday) which has become a writing anchor for me – a non-negotiable in a week where writing too easily slips me by. Join me? Hosted by Kate Motaung, it’s an encouraging writing community where we write for five minutes unedited each Friday.

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freeFree is like flying, soaring like an eagle high in the sky. Or a child running through a field of wildflowers laughing. No care or thought of how she’s viewed. Simply free to enjoy what gives her delight in that moment. Free takes practice, ironically enough.

We the redeemed must practice our freedom from sin and shame. Too, too easily they take hold of us, try to weigh us down and keep us limited. But we are freed. Free to live according to a new power – not of the law, sin, and death, but of life and hope through the Spirit. Free to love as we have been loved. Free to try new things way outside of our comfort zone, and free to fail – because our identity is not dependent on perfect performance. We are freed from all that wants to bind us: expectations, laws and demands to perform, pressure to produce, conditional love that says “do this to be loved,” other people’s opinions, our own past, what happened yesterday, our fears for tomorrow.

Free. Practice freedom, not to become free but because you already are free. What would that mean? What would you do? What wouldn’t you do? I would write and write and write without editing or worrying whether it sounded ok. I would take hold of the promise that I’m forgiven for how I interacted with my family yesterday, and I could engage them today with love instead of withdrawing in shame. I wouldn’t obsess over whether my clothes hid the extra pounds I dislike. I would take a few risks and say yes to more adventures. What about you?

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day 27: free

Monday morning comes rough and early and with the background of a scream-crying 4-year-old who can’t find the flashlight I gave her as a reward for good behavior yesterday. {And now I wish I’d never done that.} I feel a hair-trigger anger in response. How dare you interrupt my guarded, quiet half hour? This is all I will have of that commodity [quiet] today. And you are robbing me of it. 

It’s too familiar. The anger because my agenda is interrupted, my will has been crossed, what I thought I needed for my day, for my week, is being taken away. By my child.

I hate my anger. And I hate the selfish heart from which it arises. I want to be free. Really free. And I know I am promised that in Christ, I am free. The old has gone; the new has come. … Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, for the law of the Spirit of life has set you free from the law of sin and death. … Stand firm, therefore, and do not be burdened again by a yoke of slavery. 

photo credit: pixgood.com

photo credit: pixgood.com

So why do I feel the weight of the shackles still? I am in Christ by faith, and his life is in me. I am free from sin’s power, but I still live terrorized by it in moments like this. Perhaps “free” is to be the battle cry of my heart to press in to what is truer about me than my anger and my selfishness. I am free, and I will be free completely one day. Let me live in this hope in the in between place (the already and not yet).

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Part of the 31-day writing challenge in October. {Five minutes of free writes from a daily word prompt.}