We call it “survival.” We call it “doing our best.”
But let’s be honest—sometimes “doing our best” just means “barely holding it together with duct tape and caffeine.”
We’ve got people out here calling burnout “purpose” and anxiety “just part of the grind.” That’s not freedom—that’s a hostage situation with good branding.
Bondage is subtle. It doesn’t always look like chains and torment.
Sometimes it’s a to-do list that’s longer than the book of Leviticus.
Sometimes it’s the voice in your head that sounds like you, but meaner.
It’s the invisible hand that keeps you small—spiritually, emotionally, creatively—and convinces you that small is safe.
Bondage is the opposite of authority.
Authority says, “I have been given power to act.”
Bondage says, “I have no choice.”
Authority in Christ isn’t loud. It doesn’t flex. It doesn’t need a blue check.
It’s rooted in identity.
Jesus didn’t shout to prove He had authority—He simply spoke, and storms obeyed.
Real authority flows from knowing who you are and whose you are.
That’s why bondage is so dangerous—it limits revelation.
When you live under bondage, you see yourself through the lens of fear, shame, or addiction instead of through the eyes of the Father.
Your self-perception becomes distorted. You stop seeing potential and start managing pain.
Bondage caps your revelation.
And limited revelation caps your potential.
“For lack of prophetic sight, my people cast off restraint.”
(Proverbs 29:18)
When revelation is dim, discipline fades.
When identity is blurred, authority leaks.
Without vision, we drift back into the comfort of captivity—calling it stability, calling it wisdom, calling it “being realistic.”
If you don’t know you’re free, you’ll act like a slave.
If you don’t know you’re loved, you’ll perform for approval.
If you don’t know your authority, you’ll tolerate what you were born to confront.
Bondage keeps you from being you.
Not the filtered, rehearsed, “praise hands emoji” version—
the you heaven designed before the world began.
When you rediscover your authority in Christ, something shifts.
You stop reacting and start reigning.
You stop repeating and start revealing.
You stop asking for permission to exist and begin walking in purpose.
Because the opposite of bondage isn’t just freedom—it’s authenticity.
Freedom is you, fully alive, fully awake, and fully aligned with heaven’s intention.
So the question isn’t, “How do I survive?”
The question is, “What part of me have I allowed bondage to silence—and what would happen if I reclaimed my authority?”