The skies adorn themselves in black, as the man sits behind the jar. He forgets about the windows. What purpose does a window have if it cannot be seen through? And though the man sees the jar, he does not recognize the capacity of the jar. It is too shallow to appease his thrills, and it is so deep that he loses sight of his desires. The jar is a distraction, a false welcome, a detrimental remedy.
As God said in Genesis 3:19 "...for dust you are and to dust you will return." Maturation is sad when you think about it. In some ways, a person is more free when they have less freedom, when they are a proverbial child, when they are blatantly held under safety restraints. It is when a person is told of their freedom, when a person recognizes the capabilities that they posses, that they lose freedom. They lose that wonderful sense of being limitless. And is limitlessness not hope? Limitlessness must be hope. At least, limitlessness in Christ must be hope. Could limitlessness be freedom?
Without any knowledge of the self, he began as a worm. And as his soul was pushed through space and time, he became a bird. He could fly. The taste of dirt was launched out of the ordinary. As a bird learns to fly, a bird also learns of the harsh winds. He knows of his mortality. He knows of the passing seasons. He knows of sin.
I beg to be limitless in Christ. No words have yet convinced me that I have absolute freedom. No words have yet convinced me that any mortal creature has absolute freedom. Do mortal creatures have some freedom? To my estimation, they do. But when was some ever enough?