She’s running. Blood pumping like thunder in her ears and fire in her veins. Her thoughts are racing, all with one finish line in mind. The crowd is unforgiving, and only seems to condense as you grow closer to the center, but she knows she has to make it. Desperately she shoves her way through the crowd, gasping for air, pushing through the exhaustion. She’s become a prisoner, trapped by her own thoughts. Allowing lies to invade, her once home now keeps her captive to the thoughts she allowed to run rampant, building concrete walls, drawing chains to keep her imprisoned in her own mind. building a cell designed to keep what’s inside in and what’s outside out. In isolation she sat, chained to weights labeled with everything she will never be, completed with the ringing of utter silence. In the middle of the silence came a nudge, a push, a shove that turned into the blaring whisper, “Run.“
She‘s running.
Adrenaline pumping through her veins fueled by urgency.
She knows this is it, her freedom will be found in the center of this crowd.
She just wants to touch his robe.
She needs just to touch the very fringes of his robe but only for a moment to be released from the shackles around her ankles, chained to the ever-growing mass of weights labeled with everything she will never be.
She needs to touch his robe for only but a second to be released from the prison that has entrapped her mind so that she may step into the true and divine freedom that he has to offer.
She‘s running. She’s almost there, she can see the crowd beginning to thin. With a final shove she was there. Before her stood a man encapsulated in a light so bright she questioned how darkness could ever exist. At his feet she collapsed, head bowed in exhaustion, hands stretched as far as they could reach, hoping to just graze his robe. Instead, she felt a hand turn up her chin and a voice say, “You are free.“
As the last word left his mouth, the walls inside her soul began to crumble as if they were made of dust, the chains broke, the shackles fell, and the once weights reminding her of who she was not, turned into scriptures lifting her up and reminding her of who she is and whose she is.
Who the Son sets free, is free indeed.