sometimes
I feel like a caged bird
longing for freedom
to fly
expectations falling hard
why I need grace
not to do whatever I want
to live flippant in sin
but only because
my heart so full
of the not
just never enough
and shame
burrowing its head
into my soul
so flawed
and imperfect
and hovering behind a wall
of unsuccessful attempts
and it exhausts
until this vulnerability
catching my breath
and turning me around
to see
Jesus
calming my fears
with His presence
restoring my broken
with His grace
and breaking my heart
with His love
and then
having permission
to be both flawed and loved
freed
to be myself
no longer needing
to fly
Lady Liberty.
Standing as a beacon of hope. For those arriving. Over the years.
Refugees weeping; grateful.
Sailors returning; celebrating.
Tourists marveling; taking pictures.
Amazed at the grandeur. Never disappointing.
Lady Liberty.
Not a symbol of power so much.
But standing tall; welcoming. More a representative of faith.
To those seeking a better life.
Because until you lose it you don't know what freedom is.
On this July 4th,
Lady Liberty is reopening, the first time since 9/11.
A symbol.
To help us remember.
Processing refugees at Ellis Island; desperate to be accepted.
Because on another July 4th, our forefathers signed the Declaration of Independence.
Aware of the great sacrifice to themselves and their families; war.
Hardship, loss of life, separation from loved ones.
Pursuing freedom; whatever the cost.
And then, welcoming the downtrodden to our shores. Giving hope and a new life.
As we celebrate do we remember?
What has been and continues to be spent for us to be free?
For today - a different kind of war.
Cultural.
Involving entitlement and oftentimes disappointment with the American dream.
Paul Simon pens it in a song, "American Tune".
Disillusionment. Sometimes for the refugees. For citizens here.
Poor living conditions upon arrival; some in NY City tenements, some digging ditches.
Hard, back-breaking toil in order to eat.
No handouts.
Maybe more than they bargained for.
Even today.
But, interestingly enough, very few got back on the boat.
Because life is hard. Then and now.
And maybe the American dream isn't worth it if it's all about materialism and success.
But we forget. It isn't.
The most important thing; living in freedom.
Worth the personal cost.
On this July 4th, in a land where we have such high expectations, let us never forget.
The sacrifices then and even now.
And in the remembering; the symbols.
Flags waving, fireworks, cookouts, a lady standing tall in a harbor and an aged document under glass in Washington, D.C.
Symbols all of freedom.
After all, isn't that the issue right now in Egypt?
Risking everything. For freedom.
The year is 1992. A small prison chapel near Denver packed with prisoners, sitting quietly holding thick, heavily worn Bibles, waiting for the speaker. It is a special occasion and they are looking forward to it.
In a few minutes, Chuck Colson enters to address these men. There is no where else he would rather be on an Easter morning. He loves the prisoners and they sense that about him.
A former White House powerbroker and Special Counsel to President Nixon, often referred to as the "hatchet man," Colson had a reputation as unscrupulous and abusive of the power of the office. The prestige and power became his ruin; eventually serving time in a federal penitentiary for his involvement in the Watergate scandal.
It might be said that it was the best thing that ever happened to him.
In the chapel early that morning, Colson tells his attentive audience, "Never forget Jesus proclaimed . . . good news to the poor and . . . freedom for the prisoners . . . "
Colson understood what it meant to live behind bars and he had their rapt attention.
I , too, was spellbound when, years later, I had the opportunity to meet Mr. Colson at a Presidential Prayer Breakfast. Giving me his undivided attention, I saw before me a humble but passionate man. Nothing of the personality the press hounded following his conversion; certain that it would not last, ready to catch him with their cameras as he fell. Here was a man, with a quiet confidence, a humility that flowed from a quiet strength and a passion for his work. Work not returning him to the pinnacle of power but to the lowest of prisons. A man changed by the power of God. Changed to serve and to speak the truth in love.
The press was sure he was continuing to grab attention and fame; it was a gimmick. But his becoming a follower of Christ following Watergate was very real. A man held prisoner to his own greed for power and ambition and fame became a free man while serving time behind bars.
I, too, know what it's like to be a prisoner. A prisoner of my own making; my own self-tyranny and pride and want. Refusing to bend the knee; a prisoner of my own heart. But Jesus sets us free from that prison and it is the most liberating experience known to mankind. Freedom to walk in grace and truth. I am freed too.
And that's why there is no other place he would have chosen to be than at a prison chapel on Easter morning. Sharing the good news about freedom. About Easter.
