You can’t make it to freedom and not try to bring everyone with you.

What an amazing quote.

You can’t make it to freedom and not try to bring everyone you meet with you.

I love that.

I love the simple truth in that.

I love the fact that God has set me free. Abundantly free. From the things that used to keep me bound.

I love that in that freedom I can dance, and sing, and be everything that He has made me to be.

Free.

And I love that my experience, my testimony of Jesus’ mighty, mighty work, my story of Abba’s beautiful rescue and of Holy Spirit’s healing; I love that means that I am zealous about freedom.

For everyone.

Because I know it to be true. Because I’ve lived it and walked it and come out the other side of it.

Because I’ve sat in that place of feeling like I would never been free, and know now that hopelessness was never the reality.

Because His love brings true freedom.

True freedom.

No more shackles, no more chains, I am free.

And I believe true freedom is contagious.

Because everyone is looking for freedom.

Everyone.

I love speaking His hope. Looking into the eyes of a broken girl who is pouring out her heart and her story and her hopelessness and telling her she will be ok. That it will be ok. And she asks me how I know. Because she doesn’t know. And all my good-theology can do no good to convince her otherwise. So instead I look at her, (‘her’ represents the countless faces that I can fit into this scene), and I simply say, ‘Because I know. If He can do it for me, He can do it for you. He’s that same mighty-restorer-God. And if there’s freedom for me, then it’s there for you. And if He can heal my wounds and my heart then He can heal yours. And if His perfect love can cast out my fear, then it can cast yours so far away. That’s the power that there is in the mighty name of our precious Jesus. His forgiveness is perfect. His grace abundant. And His mercies new.’

As I sit to write this, I am about 5 miles south of Wick. A tiny town on the north coast of Scotland. The day in blustery. The waves are a clumsily huge on-shore swell (still, I can still speak surfer-talk ;-)). And I am very late for a meeting.

But I am sitting in my car, on the side of the A9, watching the ocean, and eating a yum yum.

I’m not lazy. And my time keeping is normally fantastic. But today, for the first time in about 18 months, I have a puncture.

A bad my-tyre-is-as-flat-as-a-pancake puncture.

And I am waiting to be rescued by the kind rescue-hire-car men from Wick.

It’s been over an hour at this point… but I’m sure they’re coming. I hope. 🙂

I did contemplate trying to change the tire myself. But I can’t even find the jack in the hire car. And if I did find it (confession time..) I wouldn’t actually know how to use it.

So, I am calmly-waiting to be rescued, but confident help’s on the way.

Just like I’m confident that His help is always on it’s way.

For us.

Where the Spirit of the Lord is there is freedom.

 

*Note: I am now safely rescued and back in the land of wi-fi to upload this post. I was waiting for 3 hours though!!

This was my classically bad puncture…

This was my traumatised face trying to figure out where the jack was kept… (I did offer to give the guy a hand when he arrived, but he took one look at me and said, ‘You’re ok love, I think it would be safer if you stayed in the car…’ Hahaha.)

This was my joy about being rescued after 3 WHOLE HOURS! They took so long that I almost had to consider peeing in a bush… I didn’t (praise God!!) but it came pretty close and all… Seriously. :-O

 

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