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A Cry of Freedom

I believe that one of the greatest things a human can witness is the march and demand for peace and freedom. History books are bursting with stories of marches and freedom cries that have shaken the world. You wonder and doubt how a mere voice can change the course of history. You become skeptical that a simple march is able to halt the disturbing statistic of an average of 10 kidnappings a day in Mexico. They will march today, shed a few tears, send a few prayers and petitions, but by tomorrow life returns as normal and killings continue. Oh, but the cry of the human spirit is much stronger than that; petitioning their demands of unassailable rights with words that fly to the heavens reverberating and joining the choir of freedom songs echoing throughout the folds of time.

Freedom seems so fundamental to us, like breathing. Nobody has to tell us that we need freedom; somehow we just know it, like we are entitled to it, and we pursue it, even die for it. The lady leading the march I was a part of in Mexico said through the tears, “We will march, we don’t have fear, we want to end this violence…I don’t care if they kill me…” Powerful words. Incredibly powerful words. That this freedom is something worth living for—worth dying for. “Give me liberty, or give me death” is the heart’s cry that can bring a powerful British army running. Powerful words. It indicates how we were designed. Jesus once said we are “slaves to sin”. But if we “know the truth, the truth will set us free”. Somehow we know that how this life is, isn’t how it ought to be. And so we search for this freedom.

I was watching a live concert of Michael Bosé, a Spanish singer, on DVD the other day. The concert filmed in Madrid in Plaza de los Toros in Madrid, Spain, one of the largest coliseum that holds well over 20,000 people—it was packed. One of the songs, that is one of my favorites “Nada Particular” is a song that calls for peace. I was moved when I saw everyone in one voice singing this song, calling for peace. Part of the song the translation in English is this:

May my history not bring pain
May my hands work peace
And if I die may you kill me with love
Nothing particular.

Sing and fly, oh Freedom
like the dove who sings.

Give me an island
in the middle of the ocean
and call it Freedom.
Sing strong my brother,
Tell me that the wind
won’t sink it
and call it Freedom.


And with all these 25,000 of people singing this song crying for peace, certainly one could assume that the rest of the world would agree with them. With millions of people across Mexico marching for peace, certainly one could assume that the rest of the world would affirm their voice. Why can’t we all agree to throw down our swords and beat them into plowshares? Is it really just a handful of people that are ruining it for the rest of us?

Obviously this isn’t the case. We sinful creatures who cry “Freedom!” chant in the next breathe “Crucify Him!”, and we continue the cycle. But that never stops us from dreaming. That never halts the imagination from wondering what it would be like if we returned to a world without hurt, a world with freedom, a world of peace; return to a familiar way how things ought to be. Nada particular.

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