Tag Archives: Freedom

Freedom of Partnerships

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Photo credit: InMagine.com

Flynn left the kids and me, just for a week but I got a GLIMPSE of single motherhood. I say a GLIMPSE because I knew, Lord willing, my husband would return after a ministry conference and be there again to partner with me in parenting. Also, my time with my sons was them being with me; I didn’t have to work outside the home like most single mothers do. It was only my job temporarily to physically provide for my children’s wants and needs and I did so with God’s grace. We had a great time at the drive-in movie theater, watching our city’s fireworks display, running around the playground, going to the library and having dinner with family friends. On a few outings I was alone with them. On two others I was with my single-for-the-week sister and her children and my-single-for-the-week friend and her daughter (Both their husbands were out of town, too). We have always respected single mothers, but our GLIMPSE into that sisterhood helped us appreciate them more AND cherish the freedom that can come with being married to men who take their fatherhood as seriously as we take our motherhood. Though we are bound by marriage (1 Corinthians 7:33, 39) our fatherhood-engaged husbands allow us to disengage from motherhood from time to time. For this reason, I encouraged Flynn to go away and basked in his return.

My dynamic with Flynn got me thinking about the freedom we have in healthy life partnerships—those we have in marriage, in friendship and with biological and spiritual families. Do we take these for granted or do we avoid them, knowing someone’s freedom in the partnership may at times mean for us a burden, one that we are unwilling to carry? As we celebrate our country’s freedom to self-govern, I want us to honor the freedom that healthy partnerships bring to our lives, those God-ordained relationships that the Bible speaks so clearly of. We must help one another, seek to refresh others so that we, too, might be refreshed (Proverbs 11:25). This is a path to our freedom that followers of Christ must lovingly take to benefit us all. Let us seek and celebrate the freedoms we have in Christ (John 8:32, 36; Romans 6:18-23, 8; Galatians 4-5:1, 16).

My One Thousand Gifts List

#121-130
Milk to nurse Justus
The children loving love
Flynn initiating prayer with the family before he and Joshua left for the day (and though they were running late)
God showing me that I’m not satisfied satisfying Him
Supplies for Joshua’s Black History Month project
Working with Joshua on his Black History Month project
Joshua wanting me to sleep with and Nate
Joshua not wanting me to leave his room
Impressing me to apologize to Joshua for hurting his feelings
Floyd taking Joshua to his piano lesson

The USA: An Unrequited Love

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I simply love “My Country ’Tis of Thee,” the patriotic song I had to learn in kindergarten. This song by Samuel F. Smith (1831) speaks of beautiful people and bountiful land, and the music gives me goose bumps every time I hear it. This is America, the way it was meant to be. But in too many ways and for too many people, the United States of America never became Smith’s “My Country ’Tis of Thee.” Proverbs 14:34 tells us why: “Righteousness exalts a nation, but sin is a disgrace to any people.” Lack of morality, particularly acknowledging that God-given ability to discern between right and wrong, has brought disgrace among us. Our history and the continuance of racial and gender discrimination, monetary greed and unrestrained sexual appetites cause those of us who see these as problematic core issues to seek change. This is why an abolitionist in 1843 rewrote “My Country ’Tis of Thee” and why Henry Dumas couldn’t bring himself to call the United States his country in the poem ’Tis of Thee, his tale of unrequited love. And this is why I seek for people to give their lives to Jesus Christ, making Him their Savior and Lord. Jesus is righteousness and having Him not only as Savior but Lord (master) of their lives can bring about the change we need so that our nation can be exalted the way it needs to be.

Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith

My Country, ’Tis of Thee
By Samuel F. Smith, 1831

My country, ’tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing;
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims’ pride,
From every mountainside
Let freedom ring!

My native country, thee,
Land of the noble free,
Thy name I love;
I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills;
My heart with rapture thrills,
Like that above.

Let music swell the breeze,
And ring from all the trees
Sweet freedom’s song;
Let mortal tongues awake;
Let all that breathe partake;
Let rocks their silence break,
The sound prolong.

Our fathers’ God to Thee,
Author of liberty,
To Thee we sing.
Long may our land be bright,
With freedom’s holy light,
Protect us by Thy might,
Great God our King.

Additional Abolitionist Lyrics
By AG Duncan, 1843

My country,’ tis of thee,
Stronghold of slavery, of thee I sing;
Land where my fathers died,
Where men man’s rights deride,
From every mountainside thy deeds shall ring!

My native country, thee,
Where all men are born free, if white’s their skin;
I love thy hills and dales,
Thy mounts and pleasant vales;
But hate thy negro sales, as foulest sin.

Let wailing swell the breeze,
And ring from all the trees the black man’s wrong;
Let every tongue awake;
Let bond and free partake;
Let rocks their silence break, the sound prolong.

Our father’s God! to thee,
Author of Liberty, to thee we sing;
Soon may our land be bright,
With holy freedom’s right,
Protect us by thy might, Great God, our King.

It comes, the joyful day,
When tyranny’s proud sway, stern as the grave,
Shall to the ground be hurl’d,
And freedom’s flag, unfurl’d,
Shall wave throughout the world, O’er every slave.

Trump of glad jubilee!
Echo o’er land and sea freedom for all.
Let the glad tidings fly,
And every tribe reply,
“Glory to God on high,” at Slavery’s fall.

Fight to the Death

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Civil Rights Activist Fannie Lou Hamer

In one of my undergraduate black studies courses, my end of the year project was a presentation on someone in black history. I chose sharecropper and civil rights activist Fannie Lou Hamer. I liked her grit and grassroots efforts to bring equality to her state of Mississippi and the country. When the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) came to Mississippi to tell black folks they had a constitutional right to vote, Hamer was one of the first to go to the courthouse to register. She was beaten, jailed, and continually threatened but none of those evils stopped her. She was fearless as a SNCC field secretary and traveled the United States telling black folks that poll taxes and tests to vote were illegal, and she registered them to vote.

In 1964, as a founder of the Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party (MFDP), she stepped on the broader national scene when she challenged the seating of the Mississippi delegation—all white—at the Democratic National Convention. Her speech that had the oft quoted phrase “sick and tired of being sick and tired” helped to grant others MFDP delegates the right to speak and special seating. This mother and activist also worked with other groups to improve the lives of the oppressed. Hamer often sang Christian hymns in the midst of her work, seemingly connecting her physical battle with a war in the spiritual realm. In 1993, this freedom fighter was posthumously inducted into the National Women’s Hall of Fame.

I related to Hamer. And even though I hadn’t seen the newsreel of her speech, my teacher said that my role play voice sounded just like Hamer. In my early 20s, I had had my share of discrimination. From being under the watchful eye of retail workers to professors discounting my classroom contributions to potential employers assuming my experience had only been granted because of a quota system, I knew the sting of racism. And though my sting was real, nothing compared to what Hamer and thousands of other blacks felt during the height of the Civil Rights Movement. That’s why I could only play the part of a Fannie Lou Hamer. She fought for her rights because “The only thing they could do to me was to kill me, and it seemed like they’d been trying to do that a little bit at a time ever since I could remember,” she said. Not being under the overt daily threat of death, the least I can do is to vigorously fight for justice in the sphere that the Lord has given to me. I challenge us all not to be comfortable in our Christianity, but to stand in the face of adversity and to speak out against those who seek to silence our voices. Fight for your freedom, whether racial or religious. This is what we are called to and must do to honor the memory of folks like Hamer and to give honor to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith

Sources: ibiblio, National Women’s Hall of Fame and Wikipedia

Free to Love

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Henry's Freedom Box by Ellen Levine

Today I write about not who I thought I would but about Henry “Box” Brown, one of the most famous runaway slaves of the Underground Railroad because he mailed himself to freedom. Henry has been on my mind because of a statement an old acquaintance made when she found out I was a stay at home mom. Referring to her brief time off with her child, she said, “I was bored. I didn’t know what to do.” I told her that I had heard that before. With others the statement had been apologetic as if the women were sorry they didn’t have the stamina to hold their post at home. But there were no apologies with this woman. With a raised eyebrow, the squint of the opposite eye, and the slow shake of her head, she said, “Go ahead. I couldn’t do it.” Then I thought about Henry and his mom and how they would have loved to be in this woman’s place.

As a boy in the early 1800s, Henry’s master took him from his mother and gave Henry to work as a slave for his son. Henry eventually married and had children, who all were sold away from him. His heart ached for his loved ones but he realized he wouldn’t see them anymore. With the help of friends, including a white abolitionist, Henry decided to ship himself to freedom. He got into a box and mailed himself from Virginia to Pennsylvania. In 1849 he was free from slavery but neither he nor his mom was free to be with their children, something they longed to do. Now I’m sure if my acquaintance had her children stolen from her, her heart would ache and she would fight to get them back, but her attitude conveyed an unwillingness to care for her them in a hard place. And I imagine there are few harder places to care for children than in slavery.

Joshua, 7, has a mouth that moves more than his busy body. And Nathaniel, 2, grabs and seeks to destroy everything in his sight. And Justus, 3 months, needs me for everything. Yes, my children are a challenge, but I’m so glad I can hold them, be around to scold them and to pour into them my values most of the day. Henry didn’t have that. Neither did his mom or wife or thousands of other enslaved Africans. Henry is my hero and so are the other men and women whose families were torn apart but they didn’t fall apart completely. They kept on because they chose to. And we get tripped up over some crying, demanding children who God has granted us favor to have. They weren’t sold or swindled from us like some Haitian children whose parents believed would have a better life if they gave them over to an agency that promised that. I hope we reassess our attitude toward being with our children and are grateful for the privilege to care for them, even in the hard places.

Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith

Freedom in Christ

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There has been a lot talk about freedom this week. From rescuing Haitians from the ravages of their country to examining the words of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., freedom rings in my ears. Even though this freedom talk has been on a global scale, I haven’t been able to keep from thinking about what freedom means to me personally.

On Sunday, I couldn’t go to church. Joshua was sick. He had a cold and a hacking cough so we were homebound, keeping the church free of his germs. I was disappointed. I love my children and would do whatever I can to give them proper care, but this morning I wondered if my mothering had taken its toll, yet again.

I remember the poem I wrote and can now see that my focus has been on my strength instead of God’s strength to mother, and I realize this is so much larger than my failure to mother God’s way, but it is a failure to follow the freedom of Christ.

This is real freedom, when you lose your will and way and follow that of Jesus Christ. I once thought I was free when I was a rebel, saying and doing what I wanted with little regard to how others felt. I had loosed the will and ways others, but found I was lonely with this behavior. With friends not as daring, I was often alone with my maverick ways. Then I got older, and I realized that my choices of freedom always impacted someone else’s choices of freedom, often limiting them. Freedom has its limits. But if freedom has its limits, is freedom what it is designed to mean? Can there truly be self-determination, lack of restrictions, autonomy, or sovereignty when what we do and say restrict others, even ourselves?

    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 (Galatians 5:1).

With the freedom of Christ, we are no longer obligated to develop processes and strategies but are free to follow in the path set before us. Walking outside of the freedom of Christ throws us back to the bondage of slavery—being a slave to ourselves and others, working hard against man’s intrinsic selfishness and rebellion that challenge our “freedom.” Freedom in Christ allows us the privilege of Jesus fighting for us when people come against our choice to serve Him (Romans 8:31).

Though I wonder if the definition of freedom needs to be altered the way we many times use it, I know that the freedom that Christ offers is unchanging. Our challenge—my challenge—is to give up our way to freedom and allow the freedom of Jesus Christ to have its way. Then and only then can we truly be free.

Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith