Angry Freedom

August 29, 2023

There is a big difference between having to say something and having something to say. 

I’ve not been writing quite as religiously as I was doing before my last trip to Cuba. I’m not sure why; I don’t know what has changed in me other than sometimes I just can’t think of anything worth saying that I haven’t said before. I don’t want to merely have to say something because I’ve locked myself into an evening pattern. Last night, for example, I sat for nearly an hour trying to tease some morsel of wisdom from my brain. The well was dry.

Tonight is different, but it all begins yesterday at dusk. I had just come home from a wonderful men’s gathering at Bemus Point Methodist. I didn’t actually count, but as one used to taking the measure of a crowd, I’d say at least seventy-five men had gathered to eat, talk, and hear the Word of God. It was great meeting new friends and reconnecting with some guys I haven’t seen in awhile.

It was getting dark when I got home, and I had work to do. We were having some trees taken down today, and I had to get my beehives covered so the men could work undisturbed. About a half-hour’s work, and they were all tucked in for the night…and day. This morning the crew arrived and dove into their work without harassment from my little yellow ladies. 

Linda and I had a couple errands to run in the afternoon, and when we got back, the trees were down and staged, ready for me to cut and split, and the crew had left. It was time to set the captives free. 

You would think they would be grateful to be released from the confines of the netting, but the little ingrates celebrated their newfound freedom by (figuratively speaking) biting the hand that feeds them. In this case, it was attacking my ankles. I had had the foresight to suit up, but instead of putting on my high rubber boots, I was wearing my regular shoes. I have to give them credit—they know how to find the chink in the armor, ignoring my head and torso while going for the unprotected ankles. Some even managed to crawl up my pant legs to sting me in rather delicate places. They showed no mercy, and here I was, just like my son’s high school friend when they went after him years ago. He burst through our kitchen door, dropped his jeans while doing a rather impressive version of the Mexican Hat Dance, slapping at his legs as he hopped across the kitchen floor while Linda stood wondering what in the world was going on. Except for dropping the drawers, that was me this afternoon.

So why say all this, other than to tell a funny story? (If you don’t see the humor in this, you need a better imagination). I suppose there are a number of lessons to be learned, the first of which is to be ready to learn something from each of life’s experiences, even those that sting. The other that comes to mind is that not everyone is happy being free. If you don’t believe me, just listen to the complaints from those who made bad decisions (government-funded student loans come to mind) and expect others to bail them out. They would rather be slaves to an all-encompassing government than shoulder the responsibility of their free choices. Others would gladly give up freedom for supposed safety. Our country’s recent covid debacle is evidence of that. 

In matters of faith, there are many who would willingly accept the bondage of religious duty rather than live in the freedom of faith in Jesus Christ. Rules are easier than relationship, but they are easily transformed into prisons. 

Here’s the irony: just like my bees, when someone comes along actually offering freedom, that someone often becomes the object of the prisoners’ fury. It happened to Jesus, and it happens to anyone who challenges the status quo of our imprisonment. Today’s dance with the ladies is merely an illustration of life. So if you actually are one offering freedom, be prepared to get stung, or worse. And if someone comes along offering freedom to you, please don’t sting them. Like my honeybees, every sting is a suicide mission. It will be for you, too. That’s what I have to say tonight.