Liberty

Liberty.  It thrives in the presence of God.  It is everywhere God is, and is absent when God is rejected.  Liberty, like salvation, belongs to the Lord.  Now the Lord is the Spirit; and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.  (II Corinthians 3:17 NKJV)

He championed liberty on the day His Spirit hovered over the surface of the deep liberating order from chaos.  He called light out of darkness and darkness submitted to the Light of the world.  Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.

God created life out of inert dust when He breathed His breath into His formation of man.  In the presence of His Spirit, man became a living being.  God breathed the Spirit back into His dead Son and Jesus became a living Savior.  The pillars of death and darkness stood braced for that final blow, but crumbled at the very instant Jesus obeyed God’s command to come alive.  Liberty flourished on the day of creation and on the day of salvation.  For where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.

The lives of men are healed and freed from eternal death when the Spirit moves into their repentant lives.  When Jesus is proclaimed as Lord, the Spirit is present and there is liberty.

Nations are healed and liberated from doom when the Spirit comes upon their repentant lands.  That nation acknowledges the Spirit as the giver of liberty.  That nation recognizes ONE Spirit of ONE Christ of ONE God.  That nation opens her arms to hurting people; she welcomes her people to know the Spirit.  That nation jealously guards her liberty, her freedom, her God-given rights.  She knows that liberty completely depends upon the Spirit’s presence.  That nation will not provoke nor exile the Spirit because she knows that where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.  (© 2005)

The New Colossus
Emma Lazarus (1849 – 1887)

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles.  From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
with silent lips.  “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send those, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

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