I Am Free

He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free.

—Luke 4:18

Only those who know captivity understand the gift of being set free.

Ask Louie Zamperini, the World War II airman who crashed in the Pacific Ocean and spent forty-seven days adrift on a raft before being captured and imprisoned as a Japanese POW.

As I said. Ask Louie.

I read his story in Laura Hillenbrand’s bestselling book Unbroken years before Hollywood and Angelina Jolie made it into a feature film. It took me only a handful of days to finish it, captivated as I was by both Zamperini’s courage and his pain. I’ll never forget the tension I felt with every page turn. At times I wanted to put the book down, to pull away. His was a story saturated with suffering. Yet lessons and revelations filled every page. I kept reading. Even when it was hard.

Some could say Louie, when he was a child, was a slave to his angst. Impulsive and conflicted, he landed in trouble more often than not. But then, with the help of his brother, he discovered he had a gift for running. Soon he redirected all that childhood energy to the track oval, where he worked out his inner conflict in competition.

Then came World War II. A plane crash. A life raft. A POW camp. Too many days a slave to circumstance.

Louie’s captivity came in various forms. A slave to impulsivity, a slave to fear, a slave to survival, a slave to a persecutor, to name just a few. However, I imagine Louie would tell you, if he were still alive, that the final chains of captivity were the toughest to break.

The chains of unforgiveness.

It was when he carried home with him the memories of mistreatment at the hands of his enemy that Louie found himself consumed by bitterness. He wanted to exact revenge on those who’d made him suffer. His captors still held him hostage, even from thousands of miles away. It took a Billy Graham sermon and the powerful pull of the Holy Spirit to break Louie free.

I’ve never been in jail nor have I ever been handcuffed. I don’t know what it feels like to carry the weight of a prison sentence or spend a sleepless night in a cell. But I do know what it feels like to be bound by history, regret, and hurt I refuse to release. And to feel justified clinging to chains of my own making.

In the long run, that which I believe will justify me instead ends up enslaving me.

I may not have any experience with horrific confinement on an ocean raft, but I do know what it’s like to be stuck in a sea of bitterness for far longer than forty-seven days. When a close friend questioned my integrity several years ago, I felt betrayed. The circumstances surrounding the situation were insignificant, trivial. And yet emotion turned a simple misunderstanding into a sharp character assault. I reeled from the blow. I thought she knew me. She was my friend, after all. How could she doubt my heart? And yet she did. No benefit of the doubt, no honest dialogue. Just a painful accusation our friendship couldn’t weather.

It took far more than forty-seven days for me to let the hurt go. Even a year or two later, I still felt the sting of it from time to time. It was unfair, and I struggled to forgive it.

And what about that time when I failed to show up for another friend? She needed me. She’d asked me to come, to help her through a crisis that weighed her down. Instead, I got caught up in my own lesser crises, allowed myself to be preoccupied by responsibilities and tasks that could’ve been put off for another day. By the time I’d recognized my selfishness, I’d missed an opportunity. I tried to make it up to her, to own my mistake, apologize and reschedule our time together. But I couldn’t get past the fact that I’d failed her. In her moment of need, I’d blown it. It was unforgiveable.

Yes, like Louie, I know what it’s like to be enslaved by unforgiveness and to be chained to regrets and failures. Whether my grievance is aimed at others or myself, I feel unable to let go.

Then I remember: “Freely you have received; freely give,” Jesus said (Matt. 10:8). It’s that simple. And that hard.

True freedom isn’t being free to do what you want, say what you want, live how you want. You could call that independence, perhaps. But being a slave to myself is simply exchanging one type of slavery for another. Instead, true freedom comes when we chain ourselves to something truer and more trustworthy than ourselves. When we attach ourselves to someone who sets the standard for everything good and pure and beautiful.

Then, as slaves to true freedom, we turn around and offer to others a portion of the grace we’ve been given. Including ourselves.

In Galatians 5:1, Paul said it this way: “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.” Our Father has already set us free. Our forgiveness has been bought and paid for, absolving our failures and all those who’ve failed us. We forget sometimes, returning to the regrets and wounds that feel far too familiar.

Instead, we can ask the giver of freedom to help us see the chains for what they are, a return to the slavery from which we’ve been freed.

May our only captivity be in living as a slave to Him.

The most liberating act of free, unconditional love demands that the recipient give up control of his or her life. Is that a contradiction? No . . . It is only grace that frees us from the slavery of self that lurks even in the middle of morality and religion.

—TIMOTHY KELLER, THE REASON FOR GOD