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
25 April 2006
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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