A New Life on the Horizon: Freeborn at Last

Freeborn was established by a congregation of Christian frontiersmen and women, looking for a better life out west. They built a white church and built the rest of the town around it. The small town prospered while ranchers and cattle rustlers frequented the small town on their runs to the larger cities. It prospered until the railroads we're built. Graystone Station was built thirty miles north and all the business Freeborn relied on was diverted thirty miles north with it. The town went broke. The Christian frontiersmen and women moved away and the town was left deserted for years. Outlaws and riff raff from neighboring towns found sanctuary in Freeborn. A few desperate locals try to make an "honest" day's wages in the town. As they figure it, even the Devil himself needs food to eat and a shot of whiskey to wash it down with. No laws, no lawmen, and all the complete lawlessness that comes with it. Sounded like a perfect formula for a town built on the edge of Hell itself.

These were my very own words. I wrote them January 13, 2008. It's a paragraph from the introduction to a short story I wrote on my Myspace blog called The Freeborn Chronicles. One day I woke up and felt like writing a shot-'em-up western, I guess. It's a story about an old western town, once pure with a large, white church at the end of Main Street that has grown run-down and battered with bullet holes as the town has been overrun with evil, murderous, licentious citizens. The once nice town was now a city of refuge for the refuse of the world. I only wrote an introduction and two chapters. The first two chapters were violent, filled with reckless gunfighters, an undertaker whose best friends in the world were his coffins that he hated parting with, and a mysterious cold-blooded killer. These are the last few paragraphs I wrote for the story on January 20, 2008:

The rain began to pour upon the streets of Freeborn. The wind started to blow harder and thunder roared across the endless plains. Main Street was quickly flooded by the torrential rains. The buzzards abandoned their victim on the street and sought shelter in the remains of the white church. A bolt of lightning struck the cross on the steeple, frightening all the birds out of the church in a flurry of feathers.  The remains of the old church were quickly engulfed in flames, despite the incessant rain. The rising waters flooding Main Street carried off the remains of the man in black into the wash on the edge of Freeborn, burying it in the muddy sediments.

It never rains in Freeborn. The relentless sun and extreme dry plague the sands of Freeborn. The only moisture the earth gets is from the occasional pool of blood from some poor soul or the unsatisfactory spit of a chewing man. The rain was a sign of change. Freeborn was being washed of its filthiness. The roads were being cleansed of the blood that had been spilled on them. The earth was going to be able to sustain life once more.  The rivers would no longer run dry. The land would no longer remain barren.  Freeborn was given a new life.

Justice was approaching on the horizon, and the lawlessness of Freeborn was coming to an end. As the church burned the bullet holes burned with it. The Freeborn chronicles had come to their climax and would no longer be written by holes in the front of a run-down church. The Freeborn chronicles would be written in the hearts of the good and the tombstones of the bad. A new chapter was about to begin for Freeborn. Freeborn would be returned to its former glory, but not before the incessant evil was purged from its midst.

Wet and hungry, Eli Coulter strolled into town in search of his baby brother.

At the time, these were merely words. They were merely descriptions for a fiction story I felt pressed to write. However, today I look back at these words seeing the sub-conscious allegory contained between the lines. My life changed completely in 2008. Freeborn was my heart. It was overrun with sin and misery. It was filled with murderers and prostitutes. It's only good citizens were only there to profit from the filth of the town. The undertaker who befriends his coffins reflected that I had made friends with death and destruction rather than fleeing from it. The once white church that now sat riddled with bullet holes represented my ecclesiology; the church was only a building to me now and the community that once filled it was gone. The rains that poured were the Holy Spirit, perfecting my baptism, replacing my heart of dust with a heart of life, purging the filth that had built up around my heart. The lightning and fire that devoured the shambles of the church were the Father, who reassured me that propitiation for my sins was made on a cross long ago and that he who hung on that cross was sufficient to wipe away every sin that riddled my self-righteous heart. Eli Coulter, wet and hungry, searching for his baby brother was Jesus Christ. Wet and hungry because he was a man. Eli because he was God. He came to Freeborn to rescue his baby brother.

But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons. And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, "Abba! Father!" So you are no longer a slave, but a son, and if a son, then an heir through God. Formerly, when you did not know God, you were enslaved to those that by nature are not gods. But now that you have come to know God, or rather to be known by God, how can you turn back again to the weak and worthless elementary principles of the world, whose slaves you want to be once more?

(Galatians 4:4-9)

 

 

On February 6, 2008, I wrote these words:

But I don’t want to join the dark side...go away!
Current mood:Devoted
Category: Life

Maybe I'm the only one, but doesn't it ever seem like you're selling your soul to the devil, pawning the halo over your head and joining the dark side? No? Like I said, maybe it's just me. If someone could ever come up to me and say, "Matt, you sold out," it would be now. I did sell out. I sold out to try to fit in better with people and feel more "socially acceptable." I gave up who I am, what I enjoy, what I cherish, and what I believe.

I was watching The Moment of Truth tonight and I had to put myself in that chair and ask myself, "If that was you sitting in that seat, what dark secrets could they dig up?" Just over the last year I could think of a handful of secrets that I would risk $500,000 to hide. I would risk a lot more than that to keep those secrets buried.

Why so many secrets all of sudden? Was I afraid of the world knowing it? Was I afraid of my friends knowing? Was I afraid that God would all of sudden find out as if he didn't know it already? No. I would prefer my friends not know because it would change the way they look at me, but it's nothing they would let ruin our friendship. No, the people I would not want to know are my parents. It would devastate them and I couldn't bear to cause that kind of heart break.

It's scary. It's haunting. It's shameful. What scares me the most is that I don't think that Christ my Savior is devastated. I know He's forgiven me but I know it wouldn't be that easy for my parents (at least at first).

Was it worth it? Was what I did this past year worth it? Not at all. I let my family down, I let my friends down, and I sinned against my Heavenly Father. For what? The people I was trying to impress still don't want to hang out with me. I wouldn't want to anyways.

For some reason I think that hanging out with people that drink to get drunk, live for the parties, have sex all the time, and do drugs will make my life better. I couldn't be farther from the truth. They need to grow up because that's not life. The people that go places in this world are the proactive ones that accept who they are, find what they can contribute to the bettering of mankind, and shoot for the stars to achieve their dreams. I want to be that guy. I don't want to be the guy going to Freaky's to get a detox kit because their employer is requiring a drug test.

My grandma always says, "Garbage in, garbage out." It's true. The people you hang out with and the things they do will rub off on you. I got a taste and I don't want anymore of it. I want to go back to laughing when someone cuts me off on the interstate not tailgating them for revenge. I want to give people hugs and never want to let go, not give them this sissy half meant hug. I want to be more than willing to help people instead of giving them attitude and acting like it's such a chore. I want to be Christian again. Christ never gave up on me but let me walk down that road knowing that I needed the wake up call. I did, there's no questioning that.

So, I'm tired of the dark side. I'm sick of all these secrets. I don't want to be the person other people want me to be. I want to be the person I used to be in high school. If I have to go back to being the quiet guy again because I don't want to say something I might regret then so be it. If I have to go back to being that guy that everyone takes advantage of because they know I'll go out of my way to help a friend and ask nothing in return, it's worth it. If I have to go back to being the goofy kid that's random, never swears, never tells dirty jokes, never breaks the rules, has never dated, has never been kissed, has never had a drink, and doesn't plan to change anytime soon, then I'm tired of waiting. I am that person, and now I'm going to own it.

It's not a matter of good vs evil. It's God vs evil, and I'm not about to forget that.

Whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters.
(Luke 11:23)

So, what happened between 2002 and 2008 that caused me to think that I had joined the dark side? In 2002, I was still very much a self-righteous Christian who shrugged sin off because he looked at his neighbor who was a lot more sinful than he. Garbage in, garbage out. Pornography, violent movies, dirty jokes, foul language, alcoholism in, lust, murder, blasphemy, and idolatry out. Even a Pharisee can only fool himself for so long. Ask Saul of Tarsus. Ask Augustine. Ask Martin Luther.

The six years between 2002 and 2008 were my darkest hours. As I relive them with you, you might be tempted to think, That's not all that bad. I look back and I see God protecting me against so many terrible decisions that I could have made. My story could be a lot worse if it was not for the grace of God. God preserved me although I desired to plunge head first into the deepest depths away from Him. He only let me get so far down. Others have gone much deeper into the pit and Jesus has climbed down and carried them out. Their stories are probably much more impressive than my own because their transformations from sons of the devil to sons of the living God are so much more drastic. Although my story might not have the contrast between black and white that others do, I'm not sharing it with you because its unique. I share it with you because it is not unique.

What happened between 2002 and 2008 was nothing out of the ordinary for many high school and college youths. The struggles I faced and the temptations I embraced are the same struggles that most 18-22 year olds face today. My story could be your story. The names and faces might be different, but the circumstances are very much alike. You too have a problem with pornography. You too have a problem trying to remain true to your faith while trying to fit in with a worldly crowd at school. You too have a tendency to judge your standing with God by comparing yourself to that other guy or girl. You too sit in church and wonder why all of these people willingly spend their day off sitting, listening to some guy talk to them. You too are beginning to feel dirty and feel as if nothing can clean you. You too are depressed and no one and nothing seems to make you happy. You too are lonely and no one seems to fill that void in your soul. You and me are very much alike. I am telling you my story because if God dragged me from the pit I hid in, then He can drag you out too.