Return No More

 

They promised me freedom  

But their chains clinked louder than their words.  

They wore liberty like perfume—  

Sweet for a moment,  

But it faded when the fire came.

"People are slaves to whatever has mastered them."

I was once mastered by mirrors,  

By masks,  

By murmurs that told me grace was cheap  

And holiness optional.

But I met the Savior.  

Not a slogan.  

Not a shadow.  

I met the One who broke my chains  

And called me daughter.

"If they have escaped the corruption of the world  

by knowing our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ..."

Then why do some return?  

Why do some trade robes for rags,  

Altars for ashes,  

Truth for the taste of old vomit?

"A dog returns to its vomit..."  

And I—we—  

We were once that dog.  

Sniffing out comfort in the filth we fled.  

But no more.

"A sow that is washed returns to her wallowing in the mud."

But I am not a sow.  

I am not a slave.  

I am not a shadow of who I used to be.

I am washed.  

Not just with water,  

But with blood.  

Not just with ritual,  

But with resurrection.

So I will not return.  

Not to the pit.  

Not to the poison.  

Not to the promises that rot.

"It would have been better not to have known..."_  

But I know.  

I know the sacred command.  

I know the weight of mercy.  

I know the voice that called me out.

So I will walk forward.  

Even when the mud calls my name.  

Even when the vomit smells familiar.  

Even when freedom feels heavy.

Because grace is not light.  

It is weighty.  

It is holy.  

It is worth it.

I am mastered by mercy.  

Enslaved to righteousness.  

Bound to the One who broke me  

To rebuild me.

So I return no more.