13 July 2006
Freed from the fear of death
How does the fear of death manifest itself?
So far I've made no attempt to tackle what are usually seen as the two major aspects of Christian freedom - freedom from sin and freedom from death. That is partly because they are covered so thoroughly elsewhere, and I've been looking at some of the less commented-on aspects of freedom. I've also still got much to understand about what freedom from sin and death actually means.
As I've been studying Romans recently, I've been struck by the way that Paul talks about both sin and death as powers which oppose God's reign in human lives. They are almost personified. Or perhaps it would be better to say that in Romans they play the role that Satan plays elsewhere in the New Testament.
"Death" in Romans is far more than an event at the end of life. It pervades the whole of life. Without Christ, we are dead in our sins. Not in future, but now. Death rules us. (5.14, 5.17, 8.6, 8.10 etc). To have faith in Christ is to move from death to life, not in some afterlife, but now.
But how does death affect us? Obviously, there is the fear of dying itself. The more anxious we are about dying, the more we try to protect ourselves from it. Perhaps it is significant that in a society where God and the gospel have been largely rejected, we have become highly skilled at preserving and extending life. Our children are protected so thoroughly from all possible danger that they barely have opportunity to test and develop their own skills. We crave adventure, but without risk.
The healthy lifestyle has become the new religion, and transgressions against the rules laid down by the health gurus cause many people to feel as much guilt as acts of adultery and stealing did to previous generations. (It's interesting to note that people fail to live up to these new commandments just as often as their forbears did to the old ones.)
But fear of death also pervades life in other ways. Death has other meanings for us beside the end of respiration and circulation, and each of these gives rise to fears which limit our lives and freedom.
Death means powerlessness.
The dead have no power to act, to bring about change, or to control events. They might continue to have an influence on the living through what they have said, done or written while alive, but they have no power to speak beyond the grave. Apart from some limited legal provisions, the living are under no obligation to honor the choices or wishes of the dead.
This fear of powerlessness extends into everyday life. Think about what it would mean to be alive but unable to speak or to act. Many would describe such a state as a "living death". We shudder at the thought of being paralysed, demented or impotent. And while we may not consciously think about such things very often, they affect the way we choose to live.
We work hard to guard and protect what powers we have. Most people fight fiercely against anyone who tries to take control away from them. We avoid taking risks that might result in us losing control over our lives or our surroundings.
Our fear of powerlessness manifests itself in our dislike of authority. We resist submitting any part of our lives to another's control, even voluntarily, even if their authority is valid.
Death also means separation.
The dead are parted from the people and places and objects that they loved. Even for those who believe in an afterlife in which the dead are reunited with others, there is a time of separation. So our fear of death feeds our fear of isolation and loneliness.
One of the most powerful sanctions any society possesses to control its' members is the threat of expulsion and exclusion. To be excluded is to be as good as dead. Think of how in some societies, a son or daughter who dishonours their family is turned out of the home and shunned. The family will speak of the person, if at all, as if they are dead. In Christian societies in the past, to be excommunicated was a dreadful prospect.
Fear of isolation drives many people to do and say whatever is necessary to remain in community and relationship with others, no matter how far that may be from their own desires and beliefs. Does this contradict what I said earlier about people resisting those who seek to control them? Not really. One of the techniques most commonly used by controlling personalities against those they seek to control is to threaten them with separation, isolation, if they don't do what is expected of them.
The playground bully who threatens to exclude a child from the group if they don't play the game his way, the controlling boyfriend who threatens to leave if his girlfriend doesn't agree to have sex with him, the manipulative wife who withdraws and sulks when her husband won't agree to her demands, and the dictator who draws a whole nation into his mad plans by publicly shaming and excluding those who disagree - all these know the power of the fear of exclusion to control people's behaviour. To be alone is to be living as if dead to others.
Death means annihilation.
Put aside for a moment the reality of God and the promise of eternal life, and try to remember how you felt the first time you realised that one day you too would die, just like everyone else. For most people that moment brings a shiver of horror mixed with incomprehension. To think is to be, if I may paraphrase Descartes. How can we think about 'not being', about non-existence? The person most aware of our existence is surely ourselves. We know our existence from the inside, as it were. If we no longer exist, then the person who is most intimately aware of who we are also no longer exists. There is no-one to experience our being, either from inside or out. No-one will know us, for ever.
Those who love us will remember us for a while, of course, perhaps for the rest of their lives. But they will only remember what is past. We will not add anything to their experience of the present. If we have done things which made us famous or notorious, we will be remembered by many people, but again, only for what we have been, not for who we are now. And we will know nothing of what they think of us, or what they do with what we did. At death (if there is no after-life), all that we will ever be or accomplish or experience will be complete and nothing can be added to it.
This fear of annihilation drives many of us to achieve all that we can before death overtakes us. It's common for those who reach the age of forty or so to start to thinking about how short life really is, and how soon death will come. The realisation of how little time they have left to accomplish all the things they once dreamed of doing produces a sense of panic in some people, and they experience a 'mid-life crisis'. For some this is a constructive time, as they go on to develop dormant talents and nurture flagging relationships. Others go overboard and cast off everything and everyone in an attempt to make a fresh start. Some try to prove that they can flout death, whether it's by climbing mountains or cosmetic surgery.
But long before forty, most people have an underlying awareness and fear of the annihilation that death will bring. While it may inspire some to accomplish all they can, it cripples others. On the one hand there are those who constantly seek to confirm and intensify their existence through whatever experiences they can - thrill seekers, drug users, narcissists. On the other hand are the timid, those who are too afraid to take any risks at all. They coddle their precious existence. The fear of annihilation is kept at bay with anything that will bring comfort or forgetfulness.
Those who live in fear are not freeThe fears that death arouses in us keep us from living in freedom. Whenever our choices and actions are influenced by fear, it becomes impossible for us to make a free choice, to act freely, from the heart. We become slaves to our fears and those who can manipulate us through our fears. If Christ sets us free from the fear of death (Heb. 2.15), then it must be that he sets us free from all the other fears that death brings with it. How? I think I'll leave that for another article. (I also need to go back and look at what being freed from death itself means.)
This post is one of a series on what it means to be free in Christ:
Free in Christ - introduction
Choosing the right master
God's freedom and ours
Jesus and freedom
Going beyond personal freedom
Fools for Christ
Reputations
14 May 2006
Reputations
Somewhere recently I read that little children have no reputation to earn, keep or lose. They are oblivious to the whole concept of reputation, and totally unconcerned about what others think of them. The author suggested that this was what Jesus meant when he said that if we want to enter the kingdom of heaven we must become like little children (Mk 10.15).
This lack of concern or even awareness of their own reputation is perhaps what also distinguishes "fools for Christ". Such people are free to do whatever God calls them to do because they have nothing to lose. It doesn't matter to them that others might think them foolish for acting or speaking as they do.
If little children have no concept of reputation, how does it develop? Why are most of us so concerned to protect our reputations? I suspect it comes from constantly hearing phrases such as "What will people think?", "You look very silly when you do that", "How do you expect to make friends if you behave that way" and so on.
Even if parents avoid using such phrases themselves, their children soon hear them elsewhere. They observe how older children and adults constantly assess, judge and condemn other people. "She really shouldn't wear those colours with hair like hers", "He's such a lazy so and so," "Have you seen the weeds in their garden?"
Children soon realise that they, too, are being assessed. Besides having to learn what is right and wrong, they discover another set of behaviours they have to learn; 'acceptable' and 'unacceptable'. Failure to comply leads to disapproval and exclusion from the group. And fear of exclusion is a basic human fear.
That is not to say that children shouldn't be taught to treat others with consideration and to behave in an acceptable and gracious way. No-one wants to raise a child who is obnoxiously inconsiderate. But might it be possible to teach good manners and consideration as an aspect of loving one another, rather than using the threat of exclusion?
It seems the majority of us grow up instead with a strong sense of the importance of keeping our reputation untarnished, and have an often-unrecognised but powerful fear of disapproval. How, then, do we move from there to being like little children, "God's fools"?
Do we need some re-training process? Anxious people can be taught to listen to their own thoughts and recognise when their fear of disapproval is becoming irrational. With the help of a therapist, they can learn to answer "Who cares!" when that inner voice says "What will people think?"
But my impression is that those who are fools for Christ don't need such therapy. They instinctively answer "Who cares!" Their grasp of what it means to be a child of God is so strong that they can't be moved by fear of exclusion and loneliness. They are so convinced that they are approved by God, so sure that there is no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus, that human approval is of no consequence to them.
This post is one of a series on what it means to be free in Christ:
Free in Christ - introduction
Choosing the right master
God's freedom and ours
Jesus and freedom
Going beyond personal freedom
Freed from the fear of death
Fools for Christ
Reputations
This lack of concern or even awareness of their own reputation is perhaps what also distinguishes "fools for Christ". Such people are free to do whatever God calls them to do because they have nothing to lose. It doesn't matter to them that others might think them foolish for acting or speaking as they do.
If little children have no concept of reputation, how does it develop? Why are most of us so concerned to protect our reputations? I suspect it comes from constantly hearing phrases such as "What will people think?", "You look very silly when you do that", "How do you expect to make friends if you behave that way" and so on.
Even if parents avoid using such phrases themselves, their children soon hear them elsewhere. They observe how older children and adults constantly assess, judge and condemn other people. "She really shouldn't wear those colours with hair like hers", "He's such a lazy so and so," "Have you seen the weeds in their garden?"
Children soon realise that they, too, are being assessed. Besides having to learn what is right and wrong, they discover another set of behaviours they have to learn; 'acceptable' and 'unacceptable'. Failure to comply leads to disapproval and exclusion from the group. And fear of exclusion is a basic human fear.
That is not to say that children shouldn't be taught to treat others with consideration and to behave in an acceptable and gracious way. No-one wants to raise a child who is obnoxiously inconsiderate. But might it be possible to teach good manners and consideration as an aspect of loving one another, rather than using the threat of exclusion?
It seems the majority of us grow up instead with a strong sense of the importance of keeping our reputation untarnished, and have an often-unrecognised but powerful fear of disapproval. How, then, do we move from there to being like little children, "God's fools"?
Do we need some re-training process? Anxious people can be taught to listen to their own thoughts and recognise when their fear of disapproval is becoming irrational. With the help of a therapist, they can learn to answer "Who cares!" when that inner voice says "What will people think?"
But my impression is that those who are fools for Christ don't need such therapy. They instinctively answer "Who cares!" Their grasp of what it means to be a child of God is so strong that they can't be moved by fear of exclusion and loneliness. They are so convinced that they are approved by God, so sure that there is no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus, that human approval is of no consequence to them.
This post is one of a series on what it means to be free in Christ:
Free in Christ - introduction
Choosing the right master
God's freedom and ours
Jesus and freedom
Going beyond personal freedom
Freed from the fear of death
Fools for Christ
Reputations
Fools for Christ
I spent a morning recently wandering over the Internet, chasing the theme of "fools for Christ". It had occurred to me that this was an important aspect of what freedom in Christ means. Those who are truly free are happy to appear foolish in the world's eyes for his sake.
Perhaps it was a result of reflecting on the difference between what I see in myself and something I perceived in a young woman I heard speaking at a morning tea recently. She and her husband and their children live and work in China, and were about to return there after a break. So much of what she said about hearing and obeying God would seem foolish even to Christians, let alone non-Christians. And yet she seemed so close to God, and he ministers through her and others like her so powerfully. Nothing stands in the way of loving obedience to her Lord. She aroused that "Whatever she's got, I want it" feeling in me, and I suspect, in others who heard her.
"But" we ask, "how can we be like her when we have homes to look after, children to educate, careers to keep up, mortgages to pay?" And the answer is, she could have all those concerns too, if she chose to. She chooses not to. She and her husband live in rented accommodation, teach their children themselves, and do whatever they believe God is calling them to do. Sometimes they make mistakes and mis-hear him, they acknowledge that. But most of the time they live in a very intimate way with him. They are utterly convinced of his love and care for themselves, their children and for those around them. Their life is difficult, and yet it's also a grand adventure. Their children know nothing else, so feel no loss, as far as I can tell. They're free people.
Perhaps too, I was reflecting on what Luther said about the Christian already having all that he (or she) needs, so they have no need to seek things for themselves. They are free to expend all their energies on 'being Christ' to others.
My Internet trawling led me first to an article about the place of the holy fool in history and literature, with many other leads that I could follow there. Another site quoted Os Guiness about what it means to be a fool for Christ.
I also came across material on Dorothy Day, and the Catholic Workers' movement in New York during the depression, which I'd never heard of before but which is quite fascinating. Dorothy Day described herself as a "fool for Christ", unconcerned about what others thought about her, because only God's opinion mattered.
This is a facet of freedom that I would like to follow further.
This post is one of a series on what it means to be free in Christ:
Free in Christ - introduction
Choosing the right master
God's freedom and ours
Jesus and freedom
Going beyond personal freedom
Freed from the fear of death
Fools for Christ
Reputations
Perhaps it was a result of reflecting on the difference between what I see in myself and something I perceived in a young woman I heard speaking at a morning tea recently. She and her husband and their children live and work in China, and were about to return there after a break. So much of what she said about hearing and obeying God would seem foolish even to Christians, let alone non-Christians. And yet she seemed so close to God, and he ministers through her and others like her so powerfully. Nothing stands in the way of loving obedience to her Lord. She aroused that "Whatever she's got, I want it" feeling in me, and I suspect, in others who heard her.
"But" we ask, "how can we be like her when we have homes to look after, children to educate, careers to keep up, mortgages to pay?" And the answer is, she could have all those concerns too, if she chose to. She chooses not to. She and her husband live in rented accommodation, teach their children themselves, and do whatever they believe God is calling them to do. Sometimes they make mistakes and mis-hear him, they acknowledge that. But most of the time they live in a very intimate way with him. They are utterly convinced of his love and care for themselves, their children and for those around them. Their life is difficult, and yet it's also a grand adventure. Their children know nothing else, so feel no loss, as far as I can tell. They're free people.
Perhaps too, I was reflecting on what Luther said about the Christian already having all that he (or she) needs, so they have no need to seek things for themselves. They are free to expend all their energies on 'being Christ' to others.
Here is the truly Christian life, here is faith really working by love, when a man applies himself with joy and love to the works of that freest servitude in which he serves others voluntarily and for nought, himself abundantly satisfied in the fulness and riches of his own faith....
Thus from faith flow forth love and joy in the Lord, and from love a cheerful, willing, free spirit, disposed to serve our neighbour voluntarily, without taking any account of gratitude or ingratitude, praise or blame, gain or loss. Its object is not to lay men under obligations, nor does it distinguish between friends and enemies, or look to gratitude or ingratitude, but most freely and willingly spends itself and its goods, whether it loses them through ingratitude, or gains goodwill. For thus did its Father, distributing all things to all men abundantly and freely, making His sun to rise upon the just and the unjust. Thus, too, the child does and endures nothing except from the free joy with which it delights through Christ in God, the Giver of such great gifts.
My Internet trawling led me first to an article about the place of the holy fool in history and literature, with many other leads that I could follow there. Another site quoted Os Guiness about what it means to be a fool for Christ.
I also came across material on Dorothy Day, and the Catholic Workers' movement in New York during the depression, which I'd never heard of before but which is quite fascinating. Dorothy Day described herself as a "fool for Christ", unconcerned about what others thought about her, because only God's opinion mattered.
This is a facet of freedom that I would like to follow further.
This post is one of a series on what it means to be free in Christ:
Free in Christ - introduction
Choosing the right master
God's freedom and ours
Jesus and freedom
Going beyond personal freedom
Freed from the fear of death
Fools for Christ
Reputations
Going beyond personal freedom
How does Christian freedom at a personal level relate to freedom at a political level? Or to put the question another way, is concerning myself with what it means to be free at a personal level a form of escapism, which ignores the problems of the world? When so many Christians face persecution on a daily basis, when the world is lurching from crisis to crisis, is it justifiable to be concerned about what it means to be free at an individual level?
Sometimes it does seem that such concerns are selfish and introspective. Does it really matter how my freedom in Christ affects my intimate relationships with my relatives and friends? Shouldn't I be more concerned with evangelism, or fighting against poverty or global warming? Is the minute attention to personal details found in various forms of prayer ministry really justifiable and worthwhile?
People in the past seemed to just get on with life, without much introspection or self-analysis. Jesus didn't spend time discussing the disciples' childhood griefs with them. It seems he didn't ask many questions at all before casting out demons from people.
It has been interesting to read Luther's "Liberty of the Christian". The liberty he talks about wasn't something he came up with by cool and rational philosophical thought. He struggled with the issue at a very personal level even as he dealt with it academically. He wasn't using conjecture when he described the amazing relief of discovering the freedom that Christ has won for us.
He has been accused recently of leading the western world into it's love of introspection. Yet at the same time, his response to discovering his freedom in Christ was hardly confined to personal relief. It gave him the courage to stand against the whole edifice of the Catholic church, at times to face the threat of death. His personal conviction of liberty gave him a very public ministry and mission. Could he have done what he did without that conviction of what freedom in Christ really meant to him personally? Somehow I doubt it.
Sometimes it does seem that such concerns are selfish and introspective. Does it really matter how my freedom in Christ affects my intimate relationships with my relatives and friends? Shouldn't I be more concerned with evangelism, or fighting against poverty or global warming? Is the minute attention to personal details found in various forms of prayer ministry really justifiable and worthwhile?
People in the past seemed to just get on with life, without much introspection or self-analysis. Jesus didn't spend time discussing the disciples' childhood griefs with them. It seems he didn't ask many questions at all before casting out demons from people.
It has been interesting to read Luther's "Liberty of the Christian". The liberty he talks about wasn't something he came up with by cool and rational philosophical thought. He struggled with the issue at a very personal level even as he dealt with it academically. He wasn't using conjecture when he described the amazing relief of discovering the freedom that Christ has won for us.
He has been accused recently of leading the western world into it's love of introspection. Yet at the same time, his response to discovering his freedom in Christ was hardly confined to personal relief. It gave him the courage to stand against the whole edifice of the Catholic church, at times to face the threat of death. His personal conviction of liberty gave him a very public ministry and mission. Could he have done what he did without that conviction of what freedom in Christ really meant to him personally? Somehow I doubt it.
25 April 2006
Jesus and freedom
One of the things that immediately stands out as one reads the gospel accounts of Jesus' life is how liberated he seems compared to other people.
Here is a man who is unfazed by the criticism and opposition of his enemies, the questioning and advice of his friends, or the social mores and taboos of his time. The things that so often keep us captive seemed to have no hold on him.
The Pharisees were highly respected, even feared, but Jesus tackles them head on. Rather than meekly answering their questions, he replies by questioning them. He is not afraid of their power to blacken his name, to question his authority, or even to have him arrested and killed.
Nor does he fear the censure , disappointment or disapproval of those closer to him. He can calmly walk away from his mother and brothers when they come to call him home. He calls his best friend "Satan" when he recognises where Peter's seemingly well-intentioned advice is coming from.
In a world where women and children were regarded as little better than beggars and lepers, he welcomes them all. It is difficult for us to comprehend how shocking Jesus' friendships with women must have seemed to the Pharisees, and even to his own disciples. (Look at the disciples' reaction when they find him talking with a women at the well of Sychar). What other rabbi not only welcomed women, but allowed them to sit at his feet with his disciples?
The Pharisees despised and feared women. They went to great lengths to avoid coming into contact with them in public. Women were polluting. Women provoked lustful thoughts that could drag a man away from the purity which they so carefully cultivated. Jesus appeared to be free from such fears. He was well aware of the sort of lusts and temptations that men faced. But he didn't live in fear of such lusts. He was free to relate to women as fellow human beings.
Jesus never backed away from his words in response to criticism. He never got deflected from his purposes. He was free from the sort of fears and anxieties that leave us feeling bound and confused. He treated all with respect, but was afraid of no-one. He was a completely free man.
Sometimes, of course, he was tired (Jn 4:6), exasperated (Mt 17:17), even distressed (Lk 12:50). He was not free from the normal trials of life. He was not free from temptation - far from it (Lk 4).
In the last days of his life he was physically bound and held captive. But even in the midst of his trial and execution, it was he, not his captors, who seemed most free. Pilate offered him freedom, and Jesus calmly reminded Pilate where his power to hold or free him really came from. At his crucifixion, Jesus freed his persecutors from the burden of guilt by forgiving them.
Even death could not rob Jesus of his liberty. "But God raised him from the dead, freeing him from the agony of death, because it was impossible for death to keep its hold on him." (Acts 2:24) The resurrection is the ultimate shattering of that which keeps us most bound - the fear of death.
We must be careful in what lessons we draw from Jesus' life. He was, after all, the Son of God, the second person of the Trinity. But he was also Son of Man, truly one of us, and surely we can learn much about what a human life is meant to look like by studying Jesus' life. If 'the Son shall set us free', we ought at least to consider how he modeled for us the sort of freedom he intended us to have.
This post is one of a series on what it means to be free in Christ:
Free in Christ - introduction
Choosing the right master
God's freedom and ours
Jesus and freedom
Going beyond personal freedom
Freed from the fear of death
Fools for Christ
Reputations
Here is a man who is unfazed by the criticism and opposition of his enemies, the questioning and advice of his friends, or the social mores and taboos of his time. The things that so often keep us captive seemed to have no hold on him.
The Pharisees were highly respected, even feared, but Jesus tackles them head on. Rather than meekly answering their questions, he replies by questioning them. He is not afraid of their power to blacken his name, to question his authority, or even to have him arrested and killed.
Nor does he fear the censure , disappointment or disapproval of those closer to him. He can calmly walk away from his mother and brothers when they come to call him home. He calls his best friend "Satan" when he recognises where Peter's seemingly well-intentioned advice is coming from.
In a world where women and children were regarded as little better than beggars and lepers, he welcomes them all. It is difficult for us to comprehend how shocking Jesus' friendships with women must have seemed to the Pharisees, and even to his own disciples. (Look at the disciples' reaction when they find him talking with a women at the well of Sychar). What other rabbi not only welcomed women, but allowed them to sit at his feet with his disciples?
The Pharisees despised and feared women. They went to great lengths to avoid coming into contact with them in public. Women were polluting. Women provoked lustful thoughts that could drag a man away from the purity which they so carefully cultivated. Jesus appeared to be free from such fears. He was well aware of the sort of lusts and temptations that men faced. But he didn't live in fear of such lusts. He was free to relate to women as fellow human beings.
Jesus never backed away from his words in response to criticism. He never got deflected from his purposes. He was free from the sort of fears and anxieties that leave us feeling bound and confused. He treated all with respect, but was afraid of no-one. He was a completely free man.
Sometimes, of course, he was tired (Jn 4:6), exasperated (Mt 17:17), even distressed (Lk 12:50). He was not free from the normal trials of life. He was not free from temptation - far from it (Lk 4).
In the last days of his life he was physically bound and held captive. But even in the midst of his trial and execution, it was he, not his captors, who seemed most free. Pilate offered him freedom, and Jesus calmly reminded Pilate where his power to hold or free him really came from. At his crucifixion, Jesus freed his persecutors from the burden of guilt by forgiving them.
Even death could not rob Jesus of his liberty. "But God raised him from the dead, freeing him from the agony of death, because it was impossible for death to keep its hold on him." (Acts 2:24) The resurrection is the ultimate shattering of that which keeps us most bound - the fear of death.
We must be careful in what lessons we draw from Jesus' life. He was, after all, the Son of God, the second person of the Trinity. But he was also Son of Man, truly one of us, and surely we can learn much about what a human life is meant to look like by studying Jesus' life. If 'the Son shall set us free', we ought at least to consider how he modeled for us the sort of freedom he intended us to have.
This post is one of a series on what it means to be free in Christ:
Free in Christ - introduction
Choosing the right master
God's freedom and ours
Jesus and freedom
Going beyond personal freedom
Freed from the fear of death
Fools for Christ
Reputations
Voices in my head
(Originally I wrote this as an introduction to a book. It may yet get that far, but for now its just a blog.)
It all began with what I came to think of as "the voices". Not the audible voices sometimes heard by those suffering from schizophrenia. I knew that what I was hearing was all in my mind. But nevertheless, "the voices" were distressing, confusing, sometimes even quite disabling.
There were the voices of my parents - decent, loving people who had taught me what was right and wrong and had given me a strong sense that "doing the right thing" went deeper than outward appearances. But some of their advice seemed contradictory - work hard and succeed...don't draw attention to yourself or be a show-off; women can have any career they want..mothers should stay home and look after their children.
There were the voices of various pastors and teachers whose sermons I had heard over the years. They all agreed on the fundamental truths of the Christian gospel, but when it came to carrying it out in practice, they sometimes disagreed. It was not as though I could go to the Bible and look for answers to the question "who is right?" They'd all taught me their own way of reading the Bible.
Then there were the voices of all the authors whose books I had read, searching for some clue as to how I should live. They ranged from pop psychology through to hard-core theology, Tony Campolo to Thomas a Kempis. I'd go to one for comfort, only to remember the words of another deploring such apparent softness and lack of spiritual stamina amongst Christians.
And there were the myriad voices of the world: "to be significant you have to make your mark on the world", "don't make waves", "enjoy the good things of life", "live simply", "stand up for yourself", "nice girls are not aggressive" - on and on they'd go.
I became aware of "the voices" at a time in my life when I was moving from one career to another, still uncertain about what I was going to do with the rest of my life. The career I'd left had provided a busy schedule, a good income and social status. My new role was just the opposite - unstructured, no guaranteed income and with little kudos.
I hadn't particularly enjoyed much of what I had been doing previously. Now I was doing something I loved. At first I felt a delightful sense of freedom in being able to plan my own day. Instead of a rigid routine, each new day held potential surprises. I was discovering new skills, new aspects of my personality that I had once thought were weaknesses but now appeared as potential strengths. Life was an adventure.
After a while, though, the lack of structure began to seem a burden. I tried to plan my days, praying each morning that God would show me what he wanted me to do. But I discovered that God doesn't often drop "to do" lists from heaven on demand. In the end I had to make a decision about what I would do. And there were bigger decisions to make about the future - whether to study, and what, and where, whether to concentrate on one skill or be a jack of all trades.
That was when I became aware of "the voices". They had always been there, of course, but now it seemed as though they all began to talk at once. "You should....", "You ought to....", "How could you...?', "Why don't you...?". If I tried to please one, another would say "But what about...?" No matter what I did, I was always failing to do something else, always failing to please someone, always listening to advice that seemed sound but completely contradicted the advice I was currently acting on. Sometimes I would get real advice and occasionally even real criticism from the real people around me. But most of the advice was coming from "the voices" within me.
I began to feel like screaming "Just be quiet for a while and let me think!" Somewhere in the gabble I knew there must be God's voice and perhaps even a voice of my own. But half a dozen voices were telling me what God wanted. And one or other of them was always quick to point out how I was failing God. To meet all their demands I would have to be a sociable hermit, a well-turned out nun, a meditating politician, a mystic with a social conscience - all at once.
This might sound like nonsense or madness to you. It certainly has all the hallmarks of neurotic anxiety. Many Christians live in the freedom of Christ without question, perhaps without even being aware of it. But if you recognize my dilemma as yours, or if you sometimes feel that being a Christian is more of a burden than a joy (and I've met many Christians like that), I hope that this book will help you to explore what it means to be truly free.
It all began with what I came to think of as "the voices". Not the audible voices sometimes heard by those suffering from schizophrenia. I knew that what I was hearing was all in my mind. But nevertheless, "the voices" were distressing, confusing, sometimes even quite disabling.
There were the voices of my parents - decent, loving people who had taught me what was right and wrong and had given me a strong sense that "doing the right thing" went deeper than outward appearances. But some of their advice seemed contradictory - work hard and succeed...don't draw attention to yourself or be a show-off; women can have any career they want..mothers should stay home and look after their children.
There were the voices of various pastors and teachers whose sermons I had heard over the years. They all agreed on the fundamental truths of the Christian gospel, but when it came to carrying it out in practice, they sometimes disagreed. It was not as though I could go to the Bible and look for answers to the question "who is right?" They'd all taught me their own way of reading the Bible.
Then there were the voices of all the authors whose books I had read, searching for some clue as to how I should live. They ranged from pop psychology through to hard-core theology, Tony Campolo to Thomas a Kempis. I'd go to one for comfort, only to remember the words of another deploring such apparent softness and lack of spiritual stamina amongst Christians.
And there were the myriad voices of the world: "to be significant you have to make your mark on the world", "don't make waves", "enjoy the good things of life", "live simply", "stand up for yourself", "nice girls are not aggressive" - on and on they'd go.
I became aware of "the voices" at a time in my life when I was moving from one career to another, still uncertain about what I was going to do with the rest of my life. The career I'd left had provided a busy schedule, a good income and social status. My new role was just the opposite - unstructured, no guaranteed income and with little kudos.
I hadn't particularly enjoyed much of what I had been doing previously. Now I was doing something I loved. At first I felt a delightful sense of freedom in being able to plan my own day. Instead of a rigid routine, each new day held potential surprises. I was discovering new skills, new aspects of my personality that I had once thought were weaknesses but now appeared as potential strengths. Life was an adventure.
After a while, though, the lack of structure began to seem a burden. I tried to plan my days, praying each morning that God would show me what he wanted me to do. But I discovered that God doesn't often drop "to do" lists from heaven on demand. In the end I had to make a decision about what I would do. And there were bigger decisions to make about the future - whether to study, and what, and where, whether to concentrate on one skill or be a jack of all trades.
That was when I became aware of "the voices". They had always been there, of course, but now it seemed as though they all began to talk at once. "You should....", "You ought to....", "How could you...?', "Why don't you...?". If I tried to please one, another would say "But what about...?" No matter what I did, I was always failing to do something else, always failing to please someone, always listening to advice that seemed sound but completely contradicted the advice I was currently acting on. Sometimes I would get real advice and occasionally even real criticism from the real people around me. But most of the advice was coming from "the voices" within me.
I began to feel like screaming "Just be quiet for a while and let me think!" Somewhere in the gabble I knew there must be God's voice and perhaps even a voice of my own. But half a dozen voices were telling me what God wanted. And one or other of them was always quick to point out how I was failing God. To meet all their demands I would have to be a sociable hermit, a well-turned out nun, a meditating politician, a mystic with a social conscience - all at once.
This might sound like nonsense or madness to you. It certainly has all the hallmarks of neurotic anxiety. Many Christians live in the freedom of Christ without question, perhaps without even being aware of it. But if you recognize my dilemma as yours, or if you sometimes feel that being a Christian is more of a burden than a joy (and I've met many Christians like that), I hope that this book will help you to explore what it means to be truly free.
God's freedom and ours
Our God is in heaven, he does whatever pleases him. (Psalm 115.3)
The freedom of God seems a strange place to start a discussion of human freedom. God's sovereignty (which is essentially his freedom to do whatever he chooses) is often seen as being in opposition to the reality of human freewill. If God can do what he likes, including putting thoughts in our minds, where is our freedom to will and to act? If we are simply puppets in a cosmic play, or characters in a novel being written by God,* how can we even begin to discuss human freedom? It becomes an illusion, just part of the plot.
In any case, this is not intended to be a philosophical discussion of human free will. In general I will leave such discussion to others, and simply take for granted that, at least from our human perspective, we do have the experience of being able to choose our thoughts and actions.
The Bible encourages this point of view. How else could it include any sort of command or advice? What meaning would statements like "Do not murder", "Do not steal", "Do to others what you would have them do to you" have, if none of us had any real ability to choose our actions? If all our thoughts and actions were predetermined from eternity how could Jesus promise that "If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." (Jn8:31-32)? Passive acceptance of fate is not a Christian outlook. Christianity is nothing if it is not a call to choose and to act.
My own experience is that, at least in the moment, from my limited perspective, I choose what I think, say and do. The longer I have been a Christian, the more I have come to realise how much freedom I do have to choose. Yet in retrospect, I also see that God has enabled me to choose at every point. There is a mystery here that I cannot explain.
Paradoxically, our freedom rests in the freedom of God. God is the only truly and absolutely free being. Only he can do whatever he wills, with no-one to question him or hinder him or to command him to do otherwise. Only he has the power to achieve all that he wills to do. God is at no-one's mercy, no-one's beck and call.
If it were not so, any freedom we might have would be illusory and short-lived. If God could not guarantee the freedom he promises us with his own freedom to will and to act, we would be at the mercy of whatever or whoever could control him.
If God had to answer to anyone for his decisions and actions, if he had to give an account of himself to anyone, on earth or in heaven, then our freedom would also be called into question. A man may allow his children great freedom at home, but if that man is a slave, his children's' freedom is quite limited.
God is sovereign, God is free. Yet we all like to question God's freedom to do what he wills. "Lord" we ask, "why did you let this happen?" "Lord, why didn't you prevent this?" "Lord, why did you make me this way?" These can be valid questions, if we're seeking to deepen our relationship with God through better understanding. But they can also arise from a thinly-veiled belief that we know better than he does how the universe should be run.
Sometimes we speak as if God were answerable to some universal law of right and wrong. This is most obvious when we ask questions such as "How could a loving God allow suffering?" or "How could a good God command people to kill and destroy others?" The underlying assumption is that to allow suffering is wrong, to order killing and destruction is bad. We all "know" that.
Sometimes, of course, the questions arise because there seems to be some inconsistency between what we see happening and what we know of God's character. It is possible to ask such questions with an attitude of humility, in the same way that Abraham questioned God about his stated intention to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah (Genesis 18). His questions were based on his knowledge of God's character.
But sometimes the question has behind it an assumption that we know more about what is right and wrong, loving and unloving, than God himself and God is being called to account. In this case the questioner is far from humble. In fact, they are putting themselves in the position of God.
Even those who are seeking to defend God sometimes fall into this trap. "God is good because he always does what is right". But who decides what is right, if it is not God himself?
We learn what is right and wrong, good and bad, loving and unloving from God. God does not love because its the right thing to do. God loves because he is love. He doesn't tell us to love because by doing so we will conform to some cosmic order of right and wrong. He tells us to love because he is love, and as creatures made in his image we are to be like him.
This isn't an easy concept to grasp. It may seem as if we are saying that right and wrong, good and bad are merely arbitrary terms for what God does and what God approves of, versus what he does not do and does not approve of. And in a sense that is, in fact, true.
The alternative, however, is to argue that God is to be judged by some outside standard. If that were the case, he would not be sovereign, he would not be free and he would not be God. If there were some universal moral law which philosophers or religious thinkers could study and describe, without reference to God, then we could only describe God as good if he met the requirements of that law.
Of course many philosophers have attempted to describe such a "natural law" or "universal moral code". Most religions, whether having one god, many gods or none, have a moral code. But if God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ is real (and I'm assuming throughout this article that he is), and sovereign, then these laws or codes are to be evaluated by his character and decrees, not vice versa. We determine what is good, true, righteous, loving and so on by looking at God.
But if God acts righteously because his nature is righteousness, if he acts lovingly because he is love, if he judges with justice and mercy because he is just and merciful, does that mean that he really has no choice but to act in those ways? How then is he "free"?
Perhaps an analogy is the best way to understand this. By it's nature, fire is hot. Fire is not "free" to turn water into ice. No-one expects it to. Of course, fire has no ability to choose it's own actions. A better analogy might be a man or woman who is passionately in love. Such a person is "free" to hate the one they love, but to do so would be unthinkable. It would be quite out of character for them to do anything to deliberately harm or demean their lover.
God is totally free. We need to grasp this and rejoice in it if we want to be free ourselves. We want our freedom, but at times we resent God's freedom. We want to be free from all that controls us, including God, yet we would like to exert some control over God. So we choose our actions and frame our prayers in a way that we hope will 'persuade' God to do what we want him to.
If we behave this way toward another human being, our behaviour is called manipulation. When we try to manipulate God, it's called idolatry. We become our own idol. What we soon discover is that our self is a very difficult idol to serve. Real freedom begins in the recognition of God's freedom.
*an analogy used by C.S Lewis
This post is one of a series on what it means to be free in Christ:
Free in Christ - introduction
Choosing the right master
God's freedom and ours
Jesus and freedom
Going beyond personal freedom
Freed from the fear of death
Fools for Christ
Reputations
The freedom of God seems a strange place to start a discussion of human freedom. God's sovereignty (which is essentially his freedom to do whatever he chooses) is often seen as being in opposition to the reality of human freewill. If God can do what he likes, including putting thoughts in our minds, where is our freedom to will and to act? If we are simply puppets in a cosmic play, or characters in a novel being written by God,* how can we even begin to discuss human freedom? It becomes an illusion, just part of the plot.
In any case, this is not intended to be a philosophical discussion of human free will. In general I will leave such discussion to others, and simply take for granted that, at least from our human perspective, we do have the experience of being able to choose our thoughts and actions.
The Bible encourages this point of view. How else could it include any sort of command or advice? What meaning would statements like "Do not murder", "Do not steal", "Do to others what you would have them do to you" have, if none of us had any real ability to choose our actions? If all our thoughts and actions were predetermined from eternity how could Jesus promise that "If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." (Jn8:31-32)? Passive acceptance of fate is not a Christian outlook. Christianity is nothing if it is not a call to choose and to act.
My own experience is that, at least in the moment, from my limited perspective, I choose what I think, say and do. The longer I have been a Christian, the more I have come to realise how much freedom I do have to choose. Yet in retrospect, I also see that God has enabled me to choose at every point. There is a mystery here that I cannot explain.
Paradoxically, our freedom rests in the freedom of God. God is the only truly and absolutely free being. Only he can do whatever he wills, with no-one to question him or hinder him or to command him to do otherwise. Only he has the power to achieve all that he wills to do. God is at no-one's mercy, no-one's beck and call.
If it were not so, any freedom we might have would be illusory and short-lived. If God could not guarantee the freedom he promises us with his own freedom to will and to act, we would be at the mercy of whatever or whoever could control him.
If God had to answer to anyone for his decisions and actions, if he had to give an account of himself to anyone, on earth or in heaven, then our freedom would also be called into question. A man may allow his children great freedom at home, but if that man is a slave, his children's' freedom is quite limited.
God is sovereign, God is free. Yet we all like to question God's freedom to do what he wills. "Lord" we ask, "why did you let this happen?" "Lord, why didn't you prevent this?" "Lord, why did you make me this way?" These can be valid questions, if we're seeking to deepen our relationship with God through better understanding. But they can also arise from a thinly-veiled belief that we know better than he does how the universe should be run.
Sometimes we speak as if God were answerable to some universal law of right and wrong. This is most obvious when we ask questions such as "How could a loving God allow suffering?" or "How could a good God command people to kill and destroy others?" The underlying assumption is that to allow suffering is wrong, to order killing and destruction is bad. We all "know" that.
Sometimes, of course, the questions arise because there seems to be some inconsistency between what we see happening and what we know of God's character. It is possible to ask such questions with an attitude of humility, in the same way that Abraham questioned God about his stated intention to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah (Genesis 18). His questions were based on his knowledge of God's character.
But sometimes the question has behind it an assumption that we know more about what is right and wrong, loving and unloving, than God himself and God is being called to account. In this case the questioner is far from humble. In fact, they are putting themselves in the position of God.
Even those who are seeking to defend God sometimes fall into this trap. "God is good because he always does what is right". But who decides what is right, if it is not God himself?
We learn what is right and wrong, good and bad, loving and unloving from God. God does not love because its the right thing to do. God loves because he is love. He doesn't tell us to love because by doing so we will conform to some cosmic order of right and wrong. He tells us to love because he is love, and as creatures made in his image we are to be like him.
This isn't an easy concept to grasp. It may seem as if we are saying that right and wrong, good and bad are merely arbitrary terms for what God does and what God approves of, versus what he does not do and does not approve of. And in a sense that is, in fact, true.
The alternative, however, is to argue that God is to be judged by some outside standard. If that were the case, he would not be sovereign, he would not be free and he would not be God. If there were some universal moral law which philosophers or religious thinkers could study and describe, without reference to God, then we could only describe God as good if he met the requirements of that law.
Of course many philosophers have attempted to describe such a "natural law" or "universal moral code". Most religions, whether having one god, many gods or none, have a moral code. But if God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ is real (and I'm assuming throughout this article that he is), and sovereign, then these laws or codes are to be evaluated by his character and decrees, not vice versa. We determine what is good, true, righteous, loving and so on by looking at God.
But if God acts righteously because his nature is righteousness, if he acts lovingly because he is love, if he judges with justice and mercy because he is just and merciful, does that mean that he really has no choice but to act in those ways? How then is he "free"?
Perhaps an analogy is the best way to understand this. By it's nature, fire is hot. Fire is not "free" to turn water into ice. No-one expects it to. Of course, fire has no ability to choose it's own actions. A better analogy might be a man or woman who is passionately in love. Such a person is "free" to hate the one they love, but to do so would be unthinkable. It would be quite out of character for them to do anything to deliberately harm or demean their lover.
God is totally free. We need to grasp this and rejoice in it if we want to be free ourselves. We want our freedom, but at times we resent God's freedom. We want to be free from all that controls us, including God, yet we would like to exert some control over God. So we choose our actions and frame our prayers in a way that we hope will 'persuade' God to do what we want him to.
If we behave this way toward another human being, our behaviour is called manipulation. When we try to manipulate God, it's called idolatry. We become our own idol. What we soon discover is that our self is a very difficult idol to serve. Real freedom begins in the recognition of God's freedom.
*an analogy used by C.S Lewis
This post is one of a series on what it means to be free in Christ:
Free in Christ - introduction
Choosing the right master
God's freedom and ours
Jesus and freedom
Going beyond personal freedom
Freed from the fear of death
Fools for Christ
Reputations
24 April 2006
Choosing the right master
"Jesus is Lord", we say, but do we really mean it? What would it mean to serve Jesus as Lord? How can we serve someone as Lord and not give up our freedom? It sounds paradoxical, but recently I've begun to understand better what it means to say that Jesus is the one whose "service is perfect freedom".
In the end we all serve someone. For some of us it's another human being. It might be someone who literally demands our service, by force or manipulation. But it might also be that we've unwittingly or voluntarily made someone our master. That person could be a parent, a lover, a pastor, a teacher, a 'guru' of some kind. It may even be an imaginary figure based on someone real but idealised. The person may be part of our present lives, or they may be from our past, even someone who has died. Whoever it is, we live to serve them.
Why would anyone do this? In my experience, the person we serve provides us with something we can't do without (or feel we can't do without.) That might be affirmation, or love, or acceptance, or security or whatever. The difficulty with human masters is that they are human. They have weaknesses and faults. They are inevitably inconsistent. They can't provide us with what we need (particularly if they are imaginary, distant or dead).
Alternatively we can serve ourselves. Perhaps most of us do. We try to meet our own ends and goals. We might not do it in an obviously selfish, self-seeking way. But even when we think we're serving others and living godly lives, we can be doing it in order to get the feedback and satisfaction and approval that we need.
What has struck me recently is what a miserable master our self can be. Sometimes, my 'self' is all that I'd want her to be. But not consistently. Often my self is an overbearing, demanding perfectionist. Nothing meets her exacting standards. At other times my self is someone so unpleasant, mean and self-pitying, that if I were to meet another person like that, I'd certainly not want to serve them.
When you think about it, the only person truly worth serving is Jesus. No other person is so utterly and awe-inspiringly good. No-one else loves us as consistently and unflinchingly as he does. Because he is omniscient, he has perfect knowledge of what is best for us (despite what the serpent told Eve.) Unlike my perfectionist self, he is a gentle master who works alongside us, bearing the yoke with us. Only he deserves our full allegiance because of who he is. All other masters, including our selves, are flawed but he is perfect and unchangeable.
This post is one of a series on what it means to be free in Christ:
Free in Christ - introduction
Choosing the right master
God's freedom and ours
Jesus and freedom
Going beyond personal freedom
Freed from the fear of death
Fools for Christ
Reputations
In the end we all serve someone. For some of us it's another human being. It might be someone who literally demands our service, by force or manipulation. But it might also be that we've unwittingly or voluntarily made someone our master. That person could be a parent, a lover, a pastor, a teacher, a 'guru' of some kind. It may even be an imaginary figure based on someone real but idealised. The person may be part of our present lives, or they may be from our past, even someone who has died. Whoever it is, we live to serve them.
Why would anyone do this? In my experience, the person we serve provides us with something we can't do without (or feel we can't do without.) That might be affirmation, or love, or acceptance, or security or whatever. The difficulty with human masters is that they are human. They have weaknesses and faults. They are inevitably inconsistent. They can't provide us with what we need (particularly if they are imaginary, distant or dead).
Alternatively we can serve ourselves. Perhaps most of us do. We try to meet our own ends and goals. We might not do it in an obviously selfish, self-seeking way. But even when we think we're serving others and living godly lives, we can be doing it in order to get the feedback and satisfaction and approval that we need.
What has struck me recently is what a miserable master our self can be. Sometimes, my 'self' is all that I'd want her to be. But not consistently. Often my self is an overbearing, demanding perfectionist. Nothing meets her exacting standards. At other times my self is someone so unpleasant, mean and self-pitying, that if I were to meet another person like that, I'd certainly not want to serve them.
When you think about it, the only person truly worth serving is Jesus. No other person is so utterly and awe-inspiringly good. No-one else loves us as consistently and unflinchingly as he does. Because he is omniscient, he has perfect knowledge of what is best for us (despite what the serpent told Eve.) Unlike my perfectionist self, he is a gentle master who works alongside us, bearing the yoke with us. Only he deserves our full allegiance because of who he is. All other masters, including our selves, are flawed but he is perfect and unchangeable.
This post is one of a series on what it means to be free in Christ:
Free in Christ - introduction
Choosing the right master
God's freedom and ours
Jesus and freedom
Going beyond personal freedom
Freed from the fear of death
Fools for Christ
Reputations
Free in Christ?
Jesus said to the Jews who believed in him, "If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." (John 8:32)
But what does Jesus mean when he speaks about being set free? Those who heard him were puzzled: They answered him, "“We are offspring of Abraham and have never been enslaved to anyone. How is it that you say, 'You will become free'?"
I too, feel puzzled, but my question to Jesus would more likely be "I've been a Christian most of my life, but often I don't feel particularly free. What is this freedom you're offering?"
I know that other Christians struggle with the same question. Perhaps they've found a growing sense of freedom in one area of their life, yet feel a distinct lack of freedom in other areas.
In searching for answers they've been told that what Jesus is offering is freedom from sin (but they still sin daily) or freedom from guilt (but they still feel guilty) or freedom from Satan's attacks (but he still keeps slipping in those darts) or freedom to 'be themselves' (but how can they be themselves when they're tied down with obligations and duties and responsibilities?) or freedom to "say no" (but then they're told that it's unchristian and selfish to say no to others needs.)
The following pages aren't finished articles. They're rough notes, part of an on-going study of what the Bible means when it talks about "freedom". It's my attempt to answer the question for myself, but perhaps it will also help others. I'd welcome any feedback, discussion, or contributions.
This post is one of a series on what it means to be free in Christ:
Free in Christ - introduction
Choosing the right master
God's freedom and ours
Jesus and freedom
Going beyond personal freedom
Freed from the fear of death
Fools for Christ
Reputations
But what does Jesus mean when he speaks about being set free? Those who heard him were puzzled: They answered him, "“We are offspring of Abraham and have never been enslaved to anyone. How is it that you say, 'You will become free'?"
I too, feel puzzled, but my question to Jesus would more likely be "I've been a Christian most of my life, but often I don't feel particularly free. What is this freedom you're offering?"
I know that other Christians struggle with the same question. Perhaps they've found a growing sense of freedom in one area of their life, yet feel a distinct lack of freedom in other areas.
In searching for answers they've been told that what Jesus is offering is freedom from sin (but they still sin daily) or freedom from guilt (but they still feel guilty) or freedom from Satan's attacks (but he still keeps slipping in those darts) or freedom to 'be themselves' (but how can they be themselves when they're tied down with obligations and duties and responsibilities?) or freedom to "say no" (but then they're told that it's unchristian and selfish to say no to others needs.)
The following pages aren't finished articles. They're rough notes, part of an on-going study of what the Bible means when it talks about "freedom". It's my attempt to answer the question for myself, but perhaps it will also help others. I'd welcome any feedback, discussion, or contributions.
This post is one of a series on what it means to be free in Christ:
Free in Christ - introduction
Choosing the right master
God's freedom and ours
Jesus and freedom
Going beyond personal freedom
Freed from the fear of death
Fools for Christ
Reputations
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