In Pursuit of Peace and Freedom
A bird family moved into the pin oak tree outside my bedroom window this summer and built a nest. Usually, the first sound I hear in the morning is their cheery warbling as they discuss their plans for the day. Thankfully, on a recent Sunday, my feathered friends did not disappoint.
That morning, I awoke after an uneasy slumber to sweet chatter from their roosting place. Before stretching and squirming out of bed, I paused to listen to their chirping and pondered the wonder of their being and mine. While I may not have had ample repose, I was alive — alive and greeted with the gift of a sunup serenade.
On days when I struggle to maintain a positive frame of mind, I turn to my Bible for guidance and reassurance since its verses are a balm for my soul and often comfort me. Despite the blessing of a morning bird concert, I felt the need to offset the blues before becoming disheartened. Slowly, I found my way to the kitchen for a cup of Earl Grey and then turned to Old and New Testaments.
I began with the 66th chapter of Isaiah, noting in verse thirteen the prophet’s reminder, “As one whom his mother comforts, so will I comfort you.” This is exactly why I opened God’s Word — I was seeking solace and Isaiah spoke the obvious. As a mother, I fully grasp the meaning and intention of these ancient words that impart assurance and hope.
From there, I flipped to Psalm 66, where verse one told me, “Shout for joy to God, all the earth; sing the glory of his name.” I immediately thought of Amy Grant’s “Sing Your Praise to the Lord” followed by her “Better Than a Hallelujah,” which was more appropriate to my mood. God knows me intimately; thus, He employed music to envelop me lovingly in his arms.
Next, I perused the sixth chapter of Paul’s letter to the Galatians and in verse fourteen discovered his bold statement, “Far be it from me to boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.” I felt convicted with ingratitude and summoned a renewed confidence made possible by the assurance that Jesus died for my sins to set me free. Contemplating the cross imbued me with a needed peace, one that originates from Christ’s victory on that cross and beckons gratefulness.
Finally, in the Gospel of Luke (10:1-12, 17-20), I read about the disciples Jesus sent on a mission to harvest lambs from the wolfpack. He instructed them to grant peace to the households they entered adding, “If a son of peace is there, your peace will rest upon him.” When they returned, expressing delight in their journey, He told them, “Rejoice that your names are written in heaven.”
Though a trace of melancholy remained, a soothing calm had settled within me and shortly after, I heard these same sacred passages read aloud to me at church. Joining fellow believers, I worshiped the Prince of Peace singing “City of God,” a hymn by Dan Schutte that seeks to turn tears into dancing. It was early July and all week I had been struggling to write a piece about freedom and at last, like the birds in the pin oak, I had found my words.