Well, ya’ll, it’s the fourth of July. Once again, I am not at home for the holiday that makes my heart burst with joy. The one that I associate with DRY CALIFORNIA SUMMERS and metal sparklers. With mortar explosions that come close to setting my neighbor’s roof on fire and bottle rocket wars. With lemonade, burgers and ice cream in the backyard.
Truth be told – I miss it. I’ve missed it for several years now.
One year ago, I was sleeping under the stars of Tennessee, at training camp for this race. I had just met my squad (read – new family). There were no fireworks. There was no hullabaloo. I didn't even wear red, white or blue. Pretty sure I had orange shorts on. Not a typical 4th.
Photos by Bri Danese
Two years ago, I was on a South Carolina beach watching the bursts of light over a pier that extended into the Atlantic Ocean, playing the “Ha” game with good friends. I spent the day on the beach, drank Starbucks with my best friend and ended it covered in sand.
Photo credit: Joel Gotta
Three years ago, I was nannying in Istanbul, Turkey and spent my day touring the town. I wandered around alone, taking pictures and fulfilling my history major / nerd desires.
Four years ago, I was in Washington watching my friends re-create the Alamo, as it were. Complete with dirt hills in construction site and bottle rockets. We had sparklers, loud music and chalk in the driveway. It was a wonderful reunion after being away from the west coast.
And today? I'm in Gua Musang, Malaysia. The rain comes down harder than I’ve seen in months. I sit here and watch it collect on the streets, unwilling to brave it and leave the English center I'm volunteering at. I don’t look forward to having my only teacher-appropriate outfit soaking wet within moments of stepping outside. There's too much excitement in me to sit still.
Independence Day.
Happy birthday, America!
I looked up the word Liberty. It is the “state of being free within society from oppressive restrictions imposed by authority on one’s way of life, behavior or political views.” It is the “state of not being imprisoned or enslaved.”
How often do I take this day for granted? And beyond this, how often do I take my freedom in Christ for granted? As the water pounds on the roof I think of what it truly means to be free. Of the lives that were given for the beautiful things I have in America. Of Christ, and the life that he gave to assure I would never be a slave to sin again. Any chain that once tethered me to sin has been broken, any bondage I was once in is gone.
There is so much to be thankful for. I'm free. Truly, absolutely, without a doubt, FREE, in all senses of the word. The future is wide open, and as I start the countdown to touch down in LAX, I know that the possibilities are endless. These past 11 months I have seen just how beautiful my freedom is. It has been beautiful to see the way freedom in Christ lights up a place, or a person. How his grace and forgiveness and love can radically transform.
I used to be so legalistic. I loved following the rules, I loved staying inside the lines, I loved thinking that I could earn grace, earn forgiveness, earn love. I operated out of a place of judgment and pride.
I know better now. God has intended me for freedom. I'm free to be who he calls me to be and to pursue the things my heart burns for. I have been set free from the law of sin and death. It sounds so extreme, because it is! It sounds too good to be true, but it's not! My heart is so full of joy today, for how could I be anything but joyful?
Some people think that Christianity just means following rules, but that's not the main point. Oh, contraire! That's not the point at all. I find myself having a hard time explaining it though, because I do live by rules. Everyone does. I live by them, but am not controlled by them, because I am free.
Ah, America, I cannot wait to celebrate with you soon.
I am thankful for your independence and your freedom.
Hopefully next year we can reunite properly.
Praise the Lord for liberty, for freedom.
