If there is one thing I have come to appreciate most during lockdown, it is the liberty afforded to every man, woman and child.
At the end of last week, within 24 hours of one another, the UK and Scottish governments both said social distancing could extend to the end of the year – which, of course, is a precursor to exactly that happening.
And, while most of us are in a state of reluctant compliance, the sun whispers to us like a menacing devil on the naughty shoulder.
I do not know if this is your experience but, on my government-sanctioned daily allocation of exercise or essential trips to the supermarket, I have noticed an increase in traffic on the roads and people in the parks.
While I understand the political reasons for lockdown, I also understand public yearning for liberty.
This time last month, I was basking in the heat of an African sun enjoying the warmth that freedom provides – to walk and talk openly, to meet and eat freely, to drink and think liberally.
On the surface, the marvellous metropolis of each African nation appears virtually indistinguishable from western society.
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Whether it is Cairo, Cape Town, Kigali in Rwanda or Kampala in Uganda, there tends to be adequate housing, functional sanitation, acceptable roads and a veneer of sustainability.
It is not until you reach the fringes of these commercial centres that you feel you may be piercing the veil between prosperity and poverty.
And yes, that shroud of invisible inequality is there.
Just a few weeks ago, I was standing in a quarry where women and children were earning less than £1 per day for cutting slates.
Life is indeed different in “the bush” where every home is a mud hut and a sustainable livelihood involves selling pineapples at the side of the road.
On the other hand, while western eyes view the African continent as impoverished, and that is certainly true in economic terms, there is also a deep richness in the African approach to community, family and hospitality.
The people who have most inspired me this month are my wife and my mother.
Both have quietly, at their own expense and without a wage or fanfare, conspired together via text or social media to collect and deliver food and flowers.
They have cooked homemade meals for various friends, families and frontline workers who they know have contracted coronavirus, are self-isolating and unable to leave their houses.
There are many silent heroes between liberty and lockdown and they remind me of the biblical parable which talks about the difference between worldly wealth and true riches.
The lesson therein being that wholeness is not found in the extent of our economic girth but in the measure to which we use our liberty to unlock and, therefore, liberate others.
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