The final stage of moving my mom from one apartment to another involved transferring her freezer from her porch to her minivan. I walked around to her back porch and unlocked and opened the door. Because my husband was out of town for work and the sun was starting to set, I was working alone and hurrying.

I left the door open as I ran to the front of the building to grab the dolly. It was still open as I rolled the freezer out of the back porch, over the sidewalk, and across the lawn to my mom’s waiting minivan.

As I went back to the porch to close and lock the side door, I spotted some movement inside in the dusky light. Standing on the ledge above the baseboard, furiously flapping and attempting to fly out through the plexiglass window, was a small bird.

What do I do now? I thought. I didn’t want it to fly farther into the apartment, and I didn’t want to pick it up with my bare hands. I thought maybe my mom had a small towel available, so I ran back to her minivan. I found one that was soft, clean and just large enough to place over the bird and gently wrap around it until I could carry it outside and set it free.

I walked up to the bird with my towel, whispering, “Don’t worry, it’ll be ok. I’ll get you out of here in no time.” It was so tired from flying up and down the plexiglass trying to find a way out that it didn’t put up a struggle.

Ever so gently I wrapped and cradled its little body and wings in the towel and walked it out of the porch and around the corner where I set it on the ground and stepped away.

As I stood back watching the rescued bird to make sure it indeed could fly away, I was struck by a thought. How similar is this whole scenario to our lives?

Our only way out

How often do we view sin through the cloudy plexiglass of Satan’s porch and think it’s an acceptable place to investigate? It looks enticing and the door is open, so we reason we can come and go as we please.

But once we enter, we’re disoriented and trapped. We can see out—we know there’s freedom beyond the murky walls of sin—but we can’t fly through the plexiglass. Our small bodies and minds are no match for Satan and his sinful porch.

Our only way out is Christ and His robe of righteousness. Jesus comes in, waits for us to submit to His help and then wraps our tired and battered bodies in His robe of righteousness—a robe He made available to all of us well before we were trapped by sin.

After we’re wrapped in Jesus’ robe of righteousness, our Savior gently cradles us in His loving hands and walks us out of the sin we so desperately and unsuccessfully tried to fight on our own.

As if securing our freedom wasn’t already more than we could have hoped for, He gently sets us on stable ground and gives us the time we need to reorient to the freedom He always intended us to live in. Once secure in our footing, we’re able to take flight and sing the song of salvation that is not only music to our great God’s ears, but also an enticing tune to all who hear our joyful and grateful praises.

Take heart in these three verses Jesus supplied for our encouragement

What is the price of two sparrows—one copper coin? But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it.

—Matt. 10:29 NLT

Who is powerful enough to enter the house of a strong man and plunder his goods? Only someone even stronger—someone who could tie him up and then plunder his house.

—Mark 3:27 NLT

I will greatly rejoice in the Lord; my soul shall exult in my God, for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation; he has covered me with the robe of righteousness.

—Isa. 61:10 ESV

Amanda Bauer is a member of the Duluth Church.