Prison

I see myself standing at a doorway of the prison I have lived in for so long.  Jesus is standing there holding my hand, leading me out.  Yet I see that I hesitate.  I want so much to just wholly and completely trust the one who has my hand but the truth is I know in my heart I am afraid.  I trust as much as I know how, just not to the degree I want to and know he deserves. It isn’t the darkness beyond the doorway but the brightness of the light that scares me.  I look back and see how well I have decorated my prison.  How I took the religious traditions and built furniture and the shame I used as blankets to cover my nakedness.  Even previous words and instructions of the Lord decorate my walls.  Snapshots of previous journeys we have taken together put in frames, give a sense of comfort in the familiarity that is there.  I find the freedom he offers me overwhelming, as is his unconditional love and mercy that meets me in his eyes.  But it’s His smile, His goodness, His plans for my future.  Why is it so hard to let go? I have been here before, it should be easier.  He is bidding me to come, to let go of all I have known, all I don’t understand and can’t figure out.  Sometimes the hardest thing to let go of was the place of freedom Jesus took us to before.  But eventually even that becomes a place of bondage that squelches the liberty with which Christ has set us free.  The calling of Jesus crosses every barrier, including our preconceived ideas of religious freedom as spirit filled believers who consider our selves followers, disciples if you will.  Yet he will continually challenge our belief; test our loyalty and devotion to Him who is the fulfillment of the law, the radiance of Gods glory and exact representation of His being.  The one who is the Hope of glory, who has come to dwell in the heart of each of us who said yes.  But, we must keep saying yes.   
January 2016