The obsession with unlimited freedom of choice that we considered in yesterday’s post is nothing new. Mankind has always desired to dine from a menu of infinite possibilities. The apostle Peter even writes about false teachers who invaded the church of the first century, defied spiritual authority, and drew off followers after themselves. What was the attraction of such men? “They promise them freedom.”
Ooh, look, more options!
Forward and Backward Through History
In fact, we can draw a straight line backward through history all the way to Eve, Adam, and shortly thereafter Cain, all of whom sought to bring options to the table expressly or implicitly forbidden by God. In writing about the same sort of false teachers as Peter, Jude adds the names of Korah and Balaam to the mix from Israel’s historical books. “Why can’t I be a priest?” asked Korah. “Why can’t I be a prophet with profit?” inquired Balaam.
Yes, when God says “X”, man always says, “How about X + 1?”
So then, the attraction of freedom, so-called, is nothing new. Limitless autonomy has always been humanity’s unholy grail. The difference between now and then is that more of us think we might be edging closer to it. Now draw that straight line from Eden through today and forward into the future. I just read a summary of two recent essays by Silicon Valley “tech-sperts” on the freedoms promised by artificial intelligence, which, as always, are profoundly unspecific (“prosperity!”) and fantastical. You can almost hear the hiss of the serpent and the promise, “You will be like God.”
The Gospel Candy Store
I wrote yesterday about unbelievers who put off God’s offer of salvation not because they are enslaved to any obvious sin in the present but because they just might want to sample the wares of the world at some point in the future. They want to keep all options open. To acknowledge Jesus as Lord of their lives is to forever take autonomy off the table, and they are not prepared to do that just yet. In keeping their options open, they risk an eternity of regret.
Well, at least they recognize that the lordship of Christ has consequences and creates future obligations. Far too many Christians preach a gospel that sounds like the inside of a candy store: What can Jesus do for you today? A recent campaign ran ads in the Superbowl pitching the idea that Jesus “gets us”. Follow his example, goes the subtext, and the world will be a better place.
But a gospel that is all carrot gives us an incomplete picture of the Christian life, and those who swallow the pitch often complain about a bait-and-switch. Again, this week I read a story about a lesbian couple who managed to last over a year in a local church without ever hearing the message that becoming a follower of Christ required a change in their lifestyle. Upon having this finally brought to their attention, they were deeply offended and left in a huff. We do nobody any favors by soft peddling the cost of discipleship. The Lord Jesus never did.
Freedom and Slavery
Frankly, the demands of discipleship delayed my entry into real Christian living by almost a decade, and rightly so. These demands were clearly and unambiguously impressed on me as a child, and I perceived them as a burden I was not ready to bear. I knew that I could never really call myself a Christian while refusing to submit basic aspects of my choice-making to Christ. In time, I learned that dictating the terms of my own existence was not at all what it was cracked up to be. These were some hard lessons. As Peter puts it, “They promise them freedom, but they themselves are slaves of corruption.”
Funnily enough, the Greek word Peter uses for “freedom” or “liberty” is eleutheria, and this verse I’ve just quoted is probably the only time in all the New Testament that the concept of freedom is associated with license, and even then only to say that the offer of licentious “freedom” is a bucket with big hole in the bottom. In fact, the consistent teaching of scripture is that true liberty can only be found in Christ. The Lord Jesus first promised it: “If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.” Paul writes about the “freedom of the glory of the children of God”. To the Corinthians he says, “Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” Peter too speaks about not using our freedom as a cover-up for evil. Even James, who is as Old Covenant as any NT writer, refers to the “law of liberty”.
The Christian life, which to some new converts appears to be full of obligations, limitations and even servitude, is consistently characterized in scripture as a life of freedom. How can this be? How is the Christian so much freer than the pagan when, in coming to Christ, he assumes the responsibility of keeping commandments, surrendering his biggest choices to someone else?
The Wisdom and Knowledge of God
The key, I think, is in the infinite knowledge of God. In pursuing freedom on his own terms, man is always exploring. He is venturing from the known into the unknown, into outcomes he cannot foresee, territory of which he is not in command and a sea of reactions he cannot anticipate. Because he cannot accurately visualize the consequences of his choices played out in advance, he is at very best taking the word of someone else about what will happen when he expresses his will in the world. Eve trusted the serpent. 14,000 Israelites trusted Korah. The Christians to whom Peter wrote were in danger of trusting false teachers. When the blind lead the blind, what happens? Both fall into a pit. That is the invariable result. So-called freedom turns out to be a trap, and the quest for liberty ends in slavery.
In contrast to all that, in coming to Christ, the believer puts his trust in one who knows the end from the beginning. His word bears consistent testimony to the outcomes produced by making certain choices and rejecting others. The beauty of these “limitations” is that they keep you from stepping off cliffs. They keep you from eating fruit that will eventually kill you. They keep you from entering into relationships that would be deadly to your soul, from offering sacrifices that will never please the Lord, from seeking to walk in shoes you are not equipped to fill, and from following the delusions of blind guides. They keep you from every possible choice that might ruin your life, your reward and your eternal prospects. These limitations were designed in infinite wisdom and unbounded love. They are safety rails for those with imperfect vision, which is all of us. They will never steer you wrong.
Every Tree of the Garden
The moral “fence” around the Christian life encloses a very broad field bursting with a plethora of possibilities, all of which are healthy, wholesome and productive, a banquet of goodness in which every potential consequence has been thoroughly vetted, scoped out and heartily approved. “You may surely eat of every tree of the garden.” That’s a whole world of freedom with one tiny, thoroughly reasonable and loving limitation.
My advice: learn to love the limitations and moral restrictions in the word of God. They are there to keep you whole and happy.
So how is it that humanity is bent on finding self-expression in choosing the one thing that will destroy us?
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