True Freedom
I remember when the lure of freedom seemed like such a good thing. I'd lie awake as a child, listening to my parents entertain company, and wonder what it was like to be able to pick your own bedtime, to be able to just DO whatever it is your heart longs to do at any time of the day or night. That's what freedom seemed like to me, and I looked at my parents as the ultimate freedom riders.
I was a slave, or so I felt. A slave to my parents' whims. Life was scripted for me, as it is for most children. Restricted. I had to be at such-and-such a place at such-and-such a time and be home no later than my parents allowed. I couldn't wear make-up until I turned "this"-old. I couldn't go see Rated-R movies or even PG-13. I couldn't do any playing until my homework was done. I had to make my bed. [Hard life, huh? :)]
I also remember playing to my heart's content. I don't think we had many chores. Chores were pretty optional, besides keeping our bedrooms neat and helping with dinner dishes; I think we played from dawn until dusk. I have vague memories of playing out back with my little brother until late in the day. And in the very dark corners of my mind, I think I can see my mom on the backporch laundry room. Working. My dad wasn't even home. He was probably in his pastor's study at First Baptist Church in San Pedro, prepping for Sunday's sermon, or visiting the sick. I never stopped to wonder how the clothes got clean, the dinner put on the table, or the lights came on. We were the ones who actually had every "freedom" in the world. They were freedoms that were boundaried, no doubt, but they came with very few cares or responsibilities. In fact, the few times we were given jobs to do, besides school, I felt robbed, like my parents gave birth to us to be their slaves; my childhood "rights" were being replaced by restrictive responsibilities.
I was a slave, or so I felt. A slave to my parents' whims. Life was scripted for me, as it is for most children. Restricted. I had to be at such-and-such a place at such-and-such a time and be home no later than my parents allowed. I couldn't wear make-up until I turned "this"-old. I couldn't go see Rated-R movies or even PG-13. I couldn't do any playing until my homework was done. I had to make my bed. [Hard life, huh? :)]
I also remember playing to my heart's content. I don't think we had many chores. Chores were pretty optional, besides keeping our bedrooms neat and helping with dinner dishes; I think we played from dawn until dusk. I have vague memories of playing out back with my little brother until late in the day. And in the very dark corners of my mind, I think I can see my mom on the backporch laundry room. Working. My dad wasn't even home. He was probably in his pastor's study at First Baptist Church in San Pedro, prepping for Sunday's sermon, or visiting the sick. I never stopped to wonder how the clothes got clean, the dinner put on the table, or the lights came on. We were the ones who actually had every "freedom" in the world. They were freedoms that were boundaried, no doubt, but they came with very few cares or responsibilities. In fact, the few times we were given jobs to do, besides school, I felt robbed, like my parents gave birth to us to be their slaves; my childhood "rights" were being replaced by restrictive responsibilities.
College was the beginning taste of said freedom. I got to pick what I majored in, a lot of my own classes, times, and even the part-time job I took on so I could buy cute clothes. This is really where that allure of freedom seemed like it was finally realized. I picked my own schedule, ate whatever I wanted. I made all of my own decisions. I stood on my own...one, two...TWO FEET! After college bliss, life started slowly. As I moved out of my parents' home and then later got married, bills were like a cold splash of water. So this is why people work for a living. It was only the beginning of a wake-up call to what "freedom" actually meant.
Now as a parent my freedoms include rearing and owning responsibility for three beautiful wills, and with that, three little mouths to feed every morning, noon, and night. And laundry. And house-cleaning. And sack lunches. And homework. And doctor visits. And temper tantrums. And being home by naptime. And still the bills . . .
It's only as a parent where I understand what freedom actually means for us as individuals. Freedom isn't being able to do whatever it is that I want to do in life [although I can't imagine being anywhere else...okay, I can imagine it, but would never want to be anywhere else]. True freedom is the willingness to stay put, be responsible, and do the tough jobs. It is being willing to scrape the food off of the highchair and the poop off of bare bottoms. It's being willing to forgive your spouse when they take your keys to work or forget your anniversary. It's being willing to stand in the gap for those in real financial need. True freedom is the willingness to actually allow yourself to be restricted and to make the hard choices...the right choices.
It's only as a parent where I understand what freedom actually means for us as individuals. Freedom isn't being able to do whatever it is that I want to do in life [although I can't imagine being anywhere else...okay, I can imagine it, but would never want to be anywhere else]. True freedom is the willingness to stay put, be responsible, and do the tough jobs. It is being willing to scrape the food off of the highchair and the poop off of bare bottoms. It's being willing to forgive your spouse when they take your keys to work or forget your anniversary. It's being willing to stand in the gap for those in real financial need. True freedom is the willingness to actually allow yourself to be restricted and to make the hard choices...the right choices.
I Peter 2:16-17 -- Act as free men, and do not use your freedom as a covering for evil, but use it as bondslaves of God. Honor all people, love the brotherhood, fear God, honor the king.
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