Free to Fly

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As we wrapped up a weekend of parades and picnics, fireworks and flags, I found myself thinking about butterflies.  It seemed like an odd thought at the end of a happy celebration framed in red, white and blue, yet I couldn’t shake the image…
 
Not long ago, my little ones caught a handful of butterflies. We brought the radiant creatures home and kept them in a roomy insect tent. We fed them sugar water and flower petals, and listened to the the whisper of their wings. We named them and talked to them. We marveled at their beauty.  But they seemed droopy and sad. 
 
After three days of trying to cheer up our colorful guests, we decided to set the butterflies free. “They were made to soar in the sky,” Hannah said resolutely as she unzipped the top of the butterfly house and prepared to bid her winsome captives good-bye. My tender-hearted daughter folded back the green nylon roof and stepped back to watch the freedom flight. She wiped a few tears from her cloudy blue eyes and then gave me a slight nod that confirmed her belief that we were doing the right thing. 
 
Oddly, the butterflies stayed put. Blue sky beckoned above. Green grass whispered below. A crimson rose bush swayed with unspoken invitation, yet the dainty winged wonders remained perched on the faded flower petals at the bottom of the cramped cage. 
 
“Go! Go!” Hannah cried as she gently wiggled the butterfly house in hopes of stirring its frozen guests. “Fly!” my little girl cried, confused by the butterflies odd behavior. “You’re free! You’re free!” 
 
And I suddenly spotted myself in the bizarre picture at hand.  “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free,” God’s Word reminds me. “Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery” (Galatians 5:1).Yet I am prone to hover in my own little corner of doubt and fear.
I know you made me to soar like an eagle, Lord. But I’m pretty comfortable in this cramped place of mediocrity. I’ve got a few friends here. I don’t remember what it’s like to stretch my wings and fly, but I’ve become used to just perching in comfort. And I’m safe. Cramped but safe.  
Like my daughter hunched over the open butterfly cage, does my Savior watch with sadness? Does He glance at His nail scarred hands and urge “Fly, treasured one! Fly! I’ve flung open wide the prison doors. How long will you refuse my gift?”
Perhaps its time to spread my wings and soar (Isaiah 40:31).
The Overflow:  So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.
-John 8:36
Alicia

2 Comments

  1. You seem to me like a woman who soars! I love the way you follow Him whole-heartedly, friend.

  2. I have a corner of doubt and fear too! God is in control…and I will follow him…that is my only peace!

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