A Letter to Beautiful But Bound You


Dear Beautiful But Bound You:

I see you. You, created for so much more. You, whose presence graces this bountiful land. You, formed in your mother’s womb for a purpose, a plan.

Yet you, bound by the things of this world. You, hiding in darkness. You, trapped in the tiniest of places, tucked away spaces nobody knows but you. You, lost in great voids, valleys, wandering, wondering how in the world you’ll ever get out.

You, I see you. I know you. You’re bound. Bound.

You, bound by things. You buy. And you buy. More is the word. More and more. More and more. You want for nothing, but you want for more. You buy to fill the void, buy to hide the pain. You think stuff will quench your deepest longings to be loved, known, filled with purpose. You buy to impress, buy to feel good. You buy to make things better, buy so people will know you better. You buy, buy and buy. You feel the high, then crash and die. So you buy, buy, buy some more to fill the gaping hole that’s your heart.

You, bound by flesh. Your body’s your idol. You workout like a madwoman. Rock solid abs, buns of steel your goal. You take on workouts like they’re your job. You do it all. Cardio. Weights. Resistance. 5Ks. 10Ks. You have the gear, you know the game. Your eating? Pure. Clean. Only from the earth. Ice cream’s from the devil, and devil’s food? Well, you know. And others? You’re trapped deep in your own flesh, tell yourselves things you’d never tell anyone else. I’ll never lose that weight. I’ll never feel good. I’ll never be a size 8, 12, 34, 36 again. I can’t do it. I’ve lost control. I’m just fat, fat, fat. Forget it.

You, bound by work. Oh you, beautiful you. Your soul’s fatigued. You work and work and work so hard. Day in, day out, your life’s on the line. You have no boundaries. You know no limits. You can do anything, so you think. Perhaps others will love you more if you work longer. Perhaps you’ll climb higher if you work harder. Perhaps you’ll rise to the top and everyone will notice if you do this, do that, just push a little farther. Work is your life. You know no rest. Work and work and work some more. If you work hard enough, you’ll finally make it. But let’s be honest. All this working’s left you with nothing but work, work, work.

You, bound by substance. What can I say? You, so full of potential. You, so gloriously made. You, quite literally, waste your days away. You excuse, deny your behavior, act as if it’s nothing. Hide it away, tuck it away, try to make light of it, but it’ll bind you for a lifetime if you’re not careful. Your relationships? They’re suffering. Your potential? It’s wasting away. Your peace of mind? Let’s get real, it’s nonexistent. You know in your heart this isn’t right. This getting wasted, getting high, this tucking away pills and potions, bottles and beers? It’s not working for you, hon. It’s not working. You’re bound. Bound by an addiction that’s trapped every fiber of your soul.

You, bound by expectations. You, oh you. You expect so much. Your standards are high, unrealistically high. Why oh why did you ever believe in this perfection? Why oh why did you ever start this all? Why oh why do you set goals you’ll never achieve, he’ll never achieve, she’ll never achieve? Every day you fall, it’s your own fault. Your expectations were lofty, beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. Do this. Do that. Do everything in between. Do it all. You can do it. But truth be told, half of it’s too much. You’re bound, sweet one, by illusions. You’re delusional in your wanting it that way and this way, this way and that.

You, bound by your past. I don’t want to forget you. You, bound by things of days gone by. You’re trapped in memories from a time machine stuck on reverse. The dark, ugly secrets of your past? The mistakes you made? The days that went horribly wrong? They haunt you, hunt you, want you to sink deeper and deeper into quick sand. You’re desperate to relive time. You’d die for a chance to go back, repair it all. You’d give anything to erase those days from the slate. But it’s impossible, right? So you stay stuck there, in days gone by, unable to heal, unable to forgive, unable to repair the tragedies that tore you apart.

You, bound by things unnamed, unseen. Hey, you. What is it? What binds you? What keeps you up at night? What keeps you from flying high? What hinders the best you from shining through? Only you know. Only you can see. Only you know the truth. Only you can face the facts about your reality, your totality.

You, bound.



Break free from the chains.

Come, dear one. Come.

Don’t be afraid.

Don’t be afraid.

It’s you who’s longing to be free.

It’s you who’s desperate to be seen.

It’s you who’s calling, you who’s falling, you who’s gnawing to get out.

So get out.

Get up.

Be free.

Be redeemed.

Walk away from all that binds.

And be.

Be free.


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