Every Fourth of July, I look forward to the fireworks. There’s something about watching the night sky burst with color that never gets old. As a little girl, it was all about the excitement. As I’ve gotten older, it has become a reminder to pause and reflect on what freedom really means.

This year feels especially meaningful as our country celebrates 250 years since the birth of our nation.

Like many Americans, I’m grateful for the freedoms we enjoy. But if life has taught me anything, it’s that there are chains no government can remove.

Fear.

Shame.

Bitterness.

Regret.

Those were the things that kept me captive far longer than I care to admit.

For years, I believed being strong meant handling everything on my own. Asking for help felt like weakness. Smiling through the pain seemed easier than admitting I was struggling. I carried burdens that were never mine to bear, convinced I could outrun my past if I just tried hard enough.

I couldn’t.

The greatest freedom I’ve ever experienced didn’t come from depending on myself. It came when I finally stopped pretending I had all the answers and placed my life in God’s hands.

That didn’t erase the painful chapters of my story. It didn’t rewrite my past. But it changed the way I carried it.

As I wrote in Running in Heels, healing isn’t about pretending the scars don’t exist. It’s about discovering that God’s grace is greater than the wounds we carry.

So while I’ll enjoy the hamburgers, watermelon, family laughter, and fireworks this Fourth of July, I’ll also be thanking God for another kind of freedom: the quiet, lasting freedom that comes from His love, His forgiveness, and His grace.

America’s founders signed a Declaration of Independence. Years ago, I made a declaration of my own. Not one of independence, but of dependence on God. It turned out to be the most freeing decision of my life.

Happy Independence Day, and may God continue to bless America.

Therefore, if the Son makes you free, you shall be free indeed.
— John 8:36 (NKJV)