Freedom || Poem || Mike Quarles

My duty is simple, perhaps too simple,
for a proud man like me.
I only have to give up my rights and self,
to the One who died for me.

My flesh rebels, Satan rages,
do your own thing – be free!
So I turned my back on him,
and soon found chains, not liberty.

Men have been bound with chains,
left to die in deep, dark dungeons.
But nothing on earth can compare
with the bondage of our own prisons.

The sin in our body that we serve
is a cruel tyrant, never satisfied,
daily driving, dominating, debasing-
its end is slow and certain suicide.

I agree with God’s condemnation on the cross.
The sin and lust in my flesh
left unjudged, does not make me free,
but binds, enslaves and tortures me.

My choice is clear, perhaps too clear,
admit the obvious, there’s nothing good in me.
I must give up on my resources and come
to the end of myself, if I will ever be free.

I flee to the cross on which he died,
I look ashamed to his beautiful face,
deserving judgment, punishment and hell,
but all I see is His wonderful grace.

He says to me – it’s all been done.
The cross takes care of self and sin.
Stop struggling, striving and trying,
and into my peace and rest enter in.

The great enemy of my soul has been met,
it’s not from without, but from within.
Proud self forged the chains of my slavery.
I didn’t need help, but a new identity.

Hallelujah, I died on the cross with him,
the old man is crucified and dead.
Sin and self has been judged and nailed to the tree,
I’m forgiven, cleansed, justified and free.

Jesus says, “It was for freedom I set you free,
don’t be entangled in the yoke of slavery.
You are not the person you used to be.
I am your life – your freedom and victory.”