My Mother-in-Law mentioned on the phone the other day that Paul referred to Himself as a slave of Christ, and with those words a cold washed over me, and maybe time bent slow. I opened my eyes there, in the kitchen yes, but at my life as a whole, at the filmy haze glossing me over, lulling me in a walking sleep. I gave sideways glances all around to a number of hypnotists. They called “sleepy … sleepy,” and I snapped at myself. Wake up! Their watches stopped swinging, and there I stood awake wondering – what does it mean to be a slave of Christ when I feel so bound by this world, my body, my thoughts and emotions, the sugar, the bank, and the pride, so bound by my history, the English language, the South, and the Bible Belt with it’s buckle undone.
I wrestle with this–if I write out this struggle, what will you think; will I turn cliche like chicken casserole at a church fellowship supper?
I’m a divided slave in chains, but I’ve heard it before that it was for freedom that I was set free. I can’t love with all the holding back. Being held to one keeps me from the other.
I’m going to do it, try the diligent way, to write this out for 31 days. Sometimes I’ll write long and other times I’ll jot a line. I’ll keep my usual themes, and I’ll study the chains along the way, because I must.
Day 1: Intimacy is at stake, and I’m pretty sure I believe that intimacy is why we’re here.
Day 3: The Chains of Mother Guilt.
Day 5: Rest.
Day 6: The Chains of Time
Day 7: Pleasing a Man
Day 8: The Chains of Old Love
Day 10: Quietly unchaining myself without posting.
Day 11: When You Feel Stuck in Your Skin
Day 12: The Chains of Nervousness