Not everyone liked the irreverant Monty Python movie Life of Brian, but I found it highlighted some aspects of Jesus' story that I had not noticed. One scene in particular that has always stuck with me has a really healthy young man jumping around and begging. He says that he needs "alms for an ex-leper."

The thing that scene did for me was remind me that a moment of healing is just the beginning, an open door. It is not a pathway. Even in the original stories, the person has to find their way through the door and into a new life.

In the stories of Jesus, there is a blind man who begs for mercy (Mark 10: 46 - 52). Summoned by Jesus, the man is directed through the crowd, and Jesus asks, "What do you want me to do for you?" Rather than deciding what mercy looks like for this man, Jesus inivites the blind man to say what he longs for.

The man asks for his sight to be restored. And Jesus says, "Go. Your faith has made you well."

As light floods in with joy and hope, the man has another choice to make. Where should he go?

In some stories, Jesus sends a person back home or summons them to follow him. But in this case, he leaves it up to the man to decide for himself what to do now that he is free from his affliction.

Healing is a good thing, but as I said, it is an open door, not a path. Freedom can be disorienting, because it begs the question what are you free for.

A person with chronic pain wants to be free from the pain. When they find a treatment that deals with the pain it is a relief. Poverty is a burden. The decision about whether to pay hydro or buy groceries is painful. Freedom from poverty, having enough is a relief.

But when freedom comes, what happens next? Freedom from pain lets you do the things you love. Freedom from poverty gives you options. But you have to choose what you love to do or what opportunities you will take.

Freedom from cancer lets you go back to your ordinary life, but you have to decide what the shape of that life is. And often, the illness and treatment journey have changed you. The person may be surprised that they have to reshape their life.

Sometimes, "freedom from" leaves an open path that is hard to negotiate.

When someone leaves an abusive relationship, they are free from the daily threat of violence. But they are still afraid. They are afraid they will run into the person, or their former partner will find them.

And they still have the wounds to get over. They have to redevelop a sense of who they are and their self-worth. They have to learn new patterns of loving so they don't fall into a similar relationship. They have to learn how to live free from what the abusive relationship taught them.

When someone leaves addiction behind, they have to learn new patterns of filling their time. They have to learn new ways of relieving stress, a different way to find the strength to face the day. They have to learn to fill their time with different patterns of living.

When someone is jailed for a crime, they long to be free. But at the end of their sentence, when they walk out of jail, all they have is freedom. They don't have a life. They don't have a job or a patten of living. A life has to be rebuilt.

Teenagers long for freedom. At sixteen, they get a learners permit and learn to drive. When they get their G2 and can drive on their own, where are they going to go? They have freedom to borrow the car, but what is the purpose? Parents hope that they've built in good values, good ideas, good purposes, but the teen chooses for themselves what they want freedom for.

Sometimes we take on freedom like Monty Python's ex-leper, defining ourselves by what we have left behind. We stay in the doorway. Finding the courage to step into a new life takes vision, help, and time.

Cathy Hird lives on the shore of Georgian Bay, listens to the mood of the waves.