Freedom
Where the spirit of the lord is, there is freedom.
II Corinthians 3:17
This is a loaded verse, a loaded thought, and a loaded post. I’ve done a lot of mulling over the Bible in the last few years. I’m oversimplifying my thoughts here, but I’m diving in. “For God so loved the world….” Notice those words do not say, “For God so loved America, the most superior country….” (Yes, I am being snarky.) It clearly states, “For God so loved the world…” Words are powerful, they can be interpreted in so many ways. I feel this is crystal clear, God loved and created the entire world. (I also believe that creation and evolution are married to one another, but that’s another post.) If that verse is true, the spirit of the Lord mentioned in II Corinthians, must be found in all of the world, for all people.
Freedom isn’t everywhere. Freedom isn’t even here, in America. Yesterday, I was basking in my freedom to work on this post a day later than I had scheduled for myself. Craig and I, have worked really hard to be in the position to let me stay home with our children. I’m incredibly grateful to have extra money to invest in my business, in myself, in my dreams. It wasn’t free, Craig works extremely long hours to provide for our family needs and allow me to pursue my dreams. When I kept painting the last two days and didn’t sit down to post a blog on Tuesday, I felt a gut punch. I don’t wake up in the morning and contemplate where our food will come from that day, what bias I will face because of my skin color, whether I should stay in the only place I’ve ever known or leave to travel by foot thousands of miles away, in the slightest chance that my child might have a sliver of a better life. I’m free to give my children the most ridiculous life possible. I’m already planning their next birthdays in my head. There are women, mothers, in places that are desperately planning when to leave and travel to freedom. Craig has always repeated, “You’re only lucky* once; when you’re born.” I was born white, in the middle of fields of corn, to a stable, loving family. I’ve mentioned before my childhood was Mayberry-like. I’ve faced many emotionally draining situations, but always with options. That is white privilege. I always thought that meant white snotty people. Really, it didn’t matter to me what it meant, I wasn’t affected by it. (*This in no way means I think I’m lucky to be white.)
The Fourth of July has always been my favorite holiday, long before the symbol of the American flag became a political weapon. Just look at this photo. My first best friends are in this picture. We likely had just marched around the backyard with American flags after one of our Great Uncles had led the parade with John Philips Sousa blaring off the deck. We were hot, sticky and full of too much sugar. As the sun would set we’d watch the fireworks in smaller groups. We’d end at Mamaw and Papaw’s for sparklers lit by Papaw’s blow torch and popping ‘whippersnappers’.
I wanted a Fourth of July wedding. Craig and I will celebrate 10 years of marriage on July 1st. We cut pie instead of cake, at our “backyard party” themed reception. My mother thinks we’re not “really” married since we cut pie. I decorated in red, white and blue checked fabrics, mason jars, red berry and wildflowers. I didn’t think twice about the American flag being part of my wedding decor. I’d never given a second thought to the fact that the flag wasn’t designed for all Americans. It was designed for white Americans. Even more specifically, I think it was designed for white, male Americans that wanted to hold power over women and minorities. I watched the country blow up social media when Colin Kaepernick knelt during the National Anthem. What did his kneeling mean? Kneeling is a sign of reverence to me, he was having a moment of silence. He was begging for someone to notice that the flag wasn’t made for him. He was peaceful, and just like John Lewis was beaten by police on the bridge at Selma, Kaepernick’s playing days were cut short. That sent a clear message, peace and freedom are only for white people. In this country of glittering dreams, one can only ask for equality and opportunity based on the color of your skin, the language you speak, who you love, or how far back your ancestors came over on a boat. (I can’t even start on my disrupting thoughts about indigenous peoples that were brutally murdered and stripped of their homes, I’ll save that light reading for my post on Thanksgiving.)
I still believe. I still believe in the idea of religious freedom this country was founded. I see work ahead, but I’m willing to change the way I’ve been conditioned to believe. The flag is triggering for some, it’s been used as a type of gag order or threat.
“For God so loved the world..”, “Where the spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom..” (I’m inserting a digression for later: I firmly believe that “God”, the “God” of the Bible, is the same as Allah, Great Spirit, whatever the hell leads you to peace. I, in no way, discount stories that have been told throughout generations in other parts of the world.) I believe in the God that stories in the Bible reference, I believe that Jesus really walked this Earth. I have not read where He demands, “Thou must stand in allegiance with the American Flag.”
I believe in the Jesus that was really here. The Jesus that loved. That’s a complete sentence and thought. The Jesus that loved. If I had to sum up the Bible in a sentence it would be, “Find your peace and love.” To find one’s peace and to love without condition is freeing to me. I recently read a bit of an article that pointed out Christians’ obsession and desire to further themselves towards Heaven. If Heaven exists, cool. I’m not spending the time I have in this physical body longing for when I’m dead. I’m at peace with being my authentic self and finding ways to love more. Click that link to go see the work of an amazing woman who gives freely of herself, just like Jesus. I don’t know if she identifies with Jesus as her “savior”, but I sure as hell know she works her ass off to bring freedom, love, joy and peace to everyone she comes in contact. That’s the point. Freedom. The American flag was designed for a country founded on religious freedom. It did not liberate African Americans at the end of the Civil War. I throw up in my mouth a little when I celebrated 100 years of voting rights for “white” women last year. We’re hung up on women crossing the border with CHILDREN, men that love and honor other men, and football players that peacefully kneel in front of a flag asking for the same freedom.
There are more battles to fight.
Now is the time for listening.
There is more freedom to be found.
I painted these Freedom Barns as a reminder to myself, my Mayberry childhood isn’t a reality for all. You can buy a print or magnet to celebrate the start of a more perfect union, so long ago, and still so far away. Whatever your belief, find freedom in your peace and love without condition.
