The Golden Door

In 1886, a young French sculptor named Frédéric Auguste Bartholdi watched as workers on Bedloe's Island removed the last wooden scaffolding from around the Statue of Liberty. What most people don't know is that Bartholdi originally envisioned his colossal figure not for New York Harbor, but for the entrance to the Suez Canal. He had designed a robed Egyptian woman holding a torch, meant to represent progress. The project fell through. But the image haunted him.

Years later, when the opportunity came to create a gift for the United States, Bartholdi reimagined his figure entirely. The Egyptian peasant became a Roman goddess. The torch of progress became the torch of liberty. And most tellingly, he placed a broken chain at her feet — not in her hands, not around her neck, but beneath her sandals. Already conquered. Already past.

That detail matters. Bartholdi understood something that Scripture teaches from Genesis to Revelation: true freedom is not the moment of struggle against the chain. It is the moment you step beyond it entirely.

Paul wrote to the Galatians, "It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery." Notice the tense. The chain is already broken. Christ has already done it.

Some of you are still carrying chains that have already been cut. Look down. They are beneath your feet, not wrapped around your soul. Step forward.