Freedom Is A Fight

In 1776, a daring group of men signed a document claiming
freedom from oppression… a Declaration of Independence, if you will.

But just because they signed it didn’t automatically bring
the American colonies freedom, as you know if you’ve read your history books.

The Declaration of Independence was a starting point, but
colonists fought for several years before Britain
– their ruler – finally accepted the declaration and let them go.

 

In a similar way, I’ve made my own declaration.

I’ve made it, but my domineering old buddies depression,
suicide, anger, and fear don’t like it.

They want their old colonies in my heart back.

They want them back, and they’re back to their old tricks
trying to kick the door open and take back the prisoner (me).

 

I’ve done a lot at this point to stay away from them.

I’ve changed the locks. I’ve changed my number. I’m in the
midst of changing my address entirely.

But because I’m not completely moved out, they know where to
find me.

The phone may have stopped ringing, and they may not be able
to just walk in anymore, but, man, are they pounding at my door.

 

It’s a good thing this temple has doors of titanium steel,
because otherwise those bad boys would have fallen down by now.

And while this is a fight, I can sit on the other side of
the doors and choose to ignore them.

I can choose to hear the words of life spoken over me time
and time again.

I can rest, knowing that the war for my freedom has already
been fought, and God is the victor.

I can live in what I know to be true, without their
influence.

 

Because eventually they will get the message. They can’t
live here anymore.

 And then they will leave.