Your Captor is Dead: What Is Your Choice?

3 minute read


noun  cap·tiv·i·ty \kap-ˈti-və-tē\

the state of being kept in a place (such as a prison or a cage) and not being able to leave or be free : the state or condition of being captive

Bondage can be comforting.  Someone else wields the keys to your shackles and the decisions you have to make are few. You wake each morning knowing - and hating - the fact that someone else controls your destiny. Controls your downsitting and your uprising. Controls your desires and your progress. Someone else assumes responsibility for your existence. Your life.

And though you long for freedom, you have no true understanding of the responsibility freedom carries with it.  You have been a servant to another's ideals for so long you are paralyzed once the door miraculously opens and your chains fall to the floor.

Your captor is dead. There is relief in knowing it.

There's terror in knowing you now have to build your own life.


The unknown.

You weren't equipped for that. You haven't prepared for that. What assurances do you have now? At least before you could count on the consistency of pain, torture, being ruled by fear, inhumanity, control...  What stabilizing force holds you now? What might happen if you shake away the broken chains and move toward the light?  No one is here to stop you now.

Your captor is dead.

And isn't this what you've been waiting for? Didn't you pray, in your darkest hour of captivity for the moment when angels would sing a song of liberty above your head?

There's rejoicing above. And you're still standing in the same spot.

There is also a choice hanging in this moment.

Bondage can be comforting.

When you were bound you could choose only how you felt about bondage. You could create only daydreams. But freedom is here now and the possibilities are endless. 

And you are paralyzed.

They're all ghosts now.

You live and breathe now. 

The door is wide open now.

And yet the unknown scares you more than the atrocities you overcame in this place.

Your captor is dead. What is your choice?

There is a healing that exists only on the outside of the dungeon you're thinking about clinging to. Your footsteps, one at a time, one in front of the other are hopeful blips on a heart monitor. There are homes to make with the love of comfort food and softness and laughter. There are pews to fill with gratitude in tears and song. There are bridges to be built between people who have been waiting their whole lives to know one another. There are stories to tell to the masses of a grace and liberty that sends us running from shackles and cages and torment when opportunity kisses destiny.

There are lives awaiting a story not unlike your own.

Your captor is dead. What is your choice?