True Freedom. Galatians 5:1

Frank Wible
Jul 4
2 min read

Brandon used to love the Fourth of July. As a kid, his dad lit fireworks in the driveway, their faces glowing under bursts of red, white, and blue. Freedom felt simple back then—hot dogs on the grill, sparklers crackling in small hands, laughter echoing across the neighborhood.

Frank Wible - Boy and man with sparklers on driveway at dusk, fireworks in sky. Joyful mood, suburban houses in background, pinkish evening sky. — Brandon once thought freedom was fireworks and sparklers. He didn’t know real freedom yet.

But this year was different. Brandon sat alone in his old pickup, parked on a grassy hill overlooking the city fireworks. Empty beer cans rolled in the floorboard. He hadn’t seen his kids in months, and his wife had filed for divorce. Years of drinking had turned into years of DUIs, job losses, and broken promises. Watching families celebrate below, he felt no freedom at all.

He cracked open another beer and stared at his shaking hands. “God,” he whispered, “I don’t even know if You hear me anymore. I’ve ruined everything.” Tears blurred his vision as explosions painted the sky. In that moment, a verse he learned in Sunday school came to mind: “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.”

He scoffed at the thought. I’m no slave, he told himself. But deep down, he knew better. Alcohol owned him. Fear owned him. Shame owned him. That night, he cried out, “Jesus, if You really set people free, set me free from this. I can’t do it.”

The next morning, hungover and empty, he drove to a local church he had passed a hundred times. Walking inside felt like stepping onto another planet—clean carpets, people smiling, worship music echoing softly. He sat in the back pew, head down, until an older man tapped his shoulder. “Hey son, you’re welcome here. Come back next week.”

Frank Wible - Man in plaid shirt with hands raised, eyes closed, appears emotional. Colorful stage lights in red, blue, and green in the background. — *Brandon learned true freedom is surrender, not independence.*

Brandon kept coming. He joined their recovery group, showing up every Thursday even when he wanted to quit. Slowly, the chains loosened. At six months sober, he raised his hands during worship for the first time. Tears streamed down his face as he sang, “I am no longer a slave to fear, I am a child of God.”

Today, Brandon celebrates the Fourth of July with his kids again. They grill hot dogs and light sparklers in the driveway just like he did as a boy. But now, when fireworks explode overhead, he smiles knowing true freedom isn’t just a holiday—it’s living each day unburdened, standing firm in the freedom Christ gave him.

What does freedom mean to you right now?