4. Lessons of Liberation

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Written Friday, April 3, 2020 / Day 235 / Evening

There is an interesting contrast involved with a liberation. The very concept elicits a feeling of euphoria, exuberance and joy. Liberation is a release from bondage, from captivity - it is a complete change of life.

While liberation is all of that and more, the transition from the prior state of bondage, from the restrictive state of being held captive can be quite traumatic.

In captivity of any kind, physical or emotional, there is a continual pressure and weight of oppression. The oppression of ourselves, our life - and everything that defines us creates a crushing atmosphere that we can hardly endure.

In grief, that atmosphere is especially painful. Not only is it painful, it is also relentless. Relentless because of the loss we have suffered - and that loss is complete. It is final - and as a result, the life we once led has come to a screeching and unresolvable halt.

Forever.

The pain this elicits is constant. It is oppressive. And it is unending.

And that is on a good day.

Because actually, there are no good days in grief, only days where that day is not as awful as the previous day. Where the contention subsides for the moment bringing a temporary respite from what we are enduring.

So when God, in His perfect timing, began to grant to me the most profound change to my grief experience that I could ever imagined (Volume 7 - Essay #9 “The Answer”), it unleashed a series of events that disabled the darkness that has been a part of my every waking moment for all the days since my life had ended.

Unleashed were emotions on a scale that I could not manage - could not control - since the power that was unleashed was so vast.

I was standing, figuratively, in the midst of a series of miraculous events that would forever change me.

It was the end of the captivity.

The end of bondage.

It was exhilarating

It was mind-boggling.

And it was exhausting, tiring and physically demanding.

A mighty transition was taking place. One I could only grasp from the physical and emotional roller coaster of events that were taking place.

This was not a total elimination of my grief. No, that would never be because the loss would always be a part of this life.

But now, the episodes - as they would still come - had lost their vast power. Their all-encompassing and overwhelming power. Those forces had been disabled.

Disabled by God’s love that He sent into the darkness. The love that transformed that darkness into the hope that I had always known was going to come.

In drinking in this new reality though, there was a trauma involved.

The transition was - and remains - an all-encompassing landscape of emotions. Except now, the emotions are tempered by love. Not by pain and sadness.

Yes, there still is that - I still cry for the moments and will have difficult challenges to face. But in this new place - those challenges will not leave me devastated. Not crushed. Not depressed.

I have that help I always knew I would have. And now that it is here - the very idea of being liberated from the worst of what grief can generate - creates a joy that brings a new kind of tear.

Tears that help me see there is a way forward.

When those who are liberated are freed, they have no idea of the details of the life is ahead of them. How could they? All of those vistas were crushed by their captivity.

No, the act of liberation, the release of the tyranny of the life they have led - is a constant source of celebration and joy. The old ways are over. Their power forever defeated.

Having that rest - that peace is breathtaking. The idea of stability instead of conflict and contention is euphoric. It is perhaps, without definition.

Just like the undefinable moments in the worst place imaginable, now the idea of being in an oppression-free state is quite humbling. Quite settling. Words cannot do justice to what life will now mean.

4. Lessons of Liberation

Written Friday, April 3, 2020 / Day 235 / Evening

There is an interesting contrast involved with a liberation. The very concept elicits a feeling of euphoria, exuberance and joy. Liberation is a release from bondage, from captivity - it is a complete change of life.

While liberation is all of that and more, the transition from the prior state of bondage, from the restrictive state of being held captive can be quite traumatic.

In captivity of any kind, physical or emotional, there is a continual pressure and weight of oppression. The oppression of ourselves, our life - and everything that defines us creates a crushing atmosphere that we can hardly endure.

In grief, that atmosphere is especially painful. Not only is it painful, it is also relentless. Relentless because of the loss we have suffered - and that loss is complete. It is final - and as a result, the life we once led has come to a screeching and unresolvable halt.

Forever.

The pain this elicits is constant. It is oppressive. And it is unending.

And that is on a good day.

Because actually, there are no good days in grief, only days where that day is not as awful as the previous day. Where the contention subsides for the moment bringing a temporary respite from what we are enduring.

Unleashed were emotions on a scale that I could not manage - could not control - since the power that was unleashed was so vast.

I was standing, figuratively, in the midst of a series of miraculous events that would forever change me.

It was the end of the captivity.

The end of bondage.

It was exhilarating

It was mind-boggling.

And it was exhausting, tiring and physically demanding.

A mighty transition was taking place. One I could only grasp from the physical and emotional roller coaster of events that were taking place.

This was not a total elimination of my grief. No, that would never be because the loss would always be a part of this life.

But now, the episodes - as they would still come - had lost their vast power. Their all-encompassing and overwhelming power. Those forces had been disabled.

Disabled by God’s love that He sent into the darkness. The love that transformed that darkness into the hope that I had always known was going to come.

In drinking in this new reality though, there was a trauma involved.

The transition was - and remains - an all-encompassing landscape of emotions. Except now, the emotions are tempered by love. Not by pain and sadness.

Yes, there still is that - I still cry for the moments and will have difficult challenges to face. But in this new place - those challenges will not leave me devastated. Not crushed. Not depressed.

I have that help I always knew I would have. And now that it is here - the very idea of being liberated from the worst of what grief can generate - creates a joy that brings a new kind of tear.

Tears that help me see there is a way forward.

When those who are liberated are freed, they have no idea of the details of the life is ahead of them. How could they? All of those vistas were crushed by their captivity.

No, the act of liberation, the release of the tyranny of the life they have led - is a constant source of celebration and joy. The old ways are over. Their power forever defeated.

Having that rest - that peace is breathtaking. The idea of stability instead of conflict and contention is euphoric. It is perhaps, without definition.

Just like the undefinable moments in the worst place imaginable, now the idea of being in an oppression-free state is quite humbling. Quite settling. Words cannot do justice to what life will now mean.

I have before me just such a moment.

It is often just too much to get my head around. But I know I will.

God’s love is like that. It heals. It builds. It grows.

Now I may still cry each day. But those tears are more than just tears.

They are a thank you for the wonder of a new life.

A free life.

A liberated life.

Thank you.

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