Freedom |
| Posted by Mark (mark) on Mar 31 2008 at 8:48 PM |
I suppose the question begs to be asked: what is freedom? Is it the ability to make decisions without boundary or hinderance? To chart one’s own destiny? Perhaps we should take it a little deeper, and ask if freedom is the satiation of needs - physical, soulful and spiritual. Many men have attained a kind of physical freedom throughout history; free to live where they choose and do what they want, rich and powerful and without hunger or any materialistic whim. But how many of those men attained soulful and spiritual freedom? How many attain freedom from insecurity and loneliness? How many find even partial fulfillment in life? And then there are the monks who reject physical freedoms to enter into heavy, even punishing covenants. They ply their craft of asceticism expertly, yet seemingly endlessly. Where is the freedom in that? What is it they search for that asceticism cannot complete?
Is it possible that most of us chase after an echo when in pursuit of freedom? Is it possible that material discontent, and even emotional discontent, are simply echoes of a spiritual hunger far deeper, and far more profound than men are capable of satiating? Do we strive to fulfill the hungers and needs that rise to the surface of our sea, only to discover that they were but a reflection dancing on the waters face? Perhaps that is why no matter how often we make a change or stuff our ethereal stomachs with whatever we can find, the echo always resurfaces; sometimes in different forms, but always still there because the real hunger has not been satisfied.
And what if those deep longings were fulfilled? Would the shallow echoes we have so long pursued dissipate? And if that be the case, could we conclude that freedom from them cannot be found chasing after the very things which they cried out for? Would that holy grail suddenly become a cup of poison to us? Has it always been poison? If this freedom could indeed be found, how would it change us? Would selfishness exist? And what if men find freedom on a shallow level but never the deep? Would they abuse that freedom? Can it be abused? After all, they’re free to do as they please. But then, what if the choices they make in a shallow level of freedom, transgress a deeper level of freedom? What if their short-sighted freedom, allows them to make decisions that only deepen their spiritual bondage? What if in finding a taste of freedom, they unwittingly choose to become more enslaved? What if freedom ultimately leads to one form of slavery or another? What if the only choice freedom actually grants you is this: what/whom you’re going to be enslaved to today?
So again I ask, what is freedom? What if the shallow and deep levels of freedom conflict? If you’re deepest need is to be loved and to love, then deep freedom would be the fulfillment of that need. Yet, the very nature of love is surrender. It cannot be received without it. It cannot be hoarded. Thus, in order to live it, you must choose to surrender to another; you have become a willing bond-slave!
The shallow form of freedom is to chart one’s course, free to make decisions without limitation. But that, is ultimately selfish. It is not surrender at all. Thus you are enslaved to your need for love because your shallow freedom denies your ability to receive it. Is the evolution of freedom this: Upon attaining your freedom from prison and obligation, you now have a choice. If you choose deeper freedom you are willingly surrendering and becoming a bond-slave, giving up all selfish rights and desires. If you choose independence you are willingly remaining in bondage to your deepest need. By maintaining your rights and desires (the shallowest of freedoms), you have only enslaved yourself on a more profound level.
Perhaps freedom is not a destination. Perhaps it is not something we can attain and perpetuate. Perhaps it is simply a road along a journey, and the moment you stop, you are no longer traveling a road but resting at a spot. Maybe you cannot capture freedom. Maybe it’s like the wind. Yes, you can hold a jar into the wind, and then ever so quickly seal it with the lid. But what you are left with is a jar of air, not a jar of wind. If this is the case, should we be chasing freedom? Perhaps it is the wrong pursuit. It would seem to me that if freedom is central, we will always be empty. It is not meant to be the main thing, only an aid that helps us find the main thing.
And why do pious men fear freedom so? Are we afraid of the outcome? Do we fear the extremities to which freedom can lead? Do we fear those men who use their freedom as an excuse? Who trample each other underfoot with the boots of licentiousness. Are we afraid they will lead others astray? Is that a good reason to deny freedom? Is the exercise of freedom, regardless of result, a good argument for the denial of it? Perhaps, but are we really afraid of these ones? Can they even fool their own conscience? Rationalize, yes; but that is another matter.
When all the rationalizations and self-righteous justifications are peeled away, can we honestly conclude that these men who abuse the very freedom which has set them free, are worse off than men in bondage whose hearts are just as dark (perhaps darker from the shadow of their bondage and latent self-righteousness)? Are they really worse off than men who live false lives, and never taste true freedom? Yes, when darkness is mitigated, even by bondage, it seems better to all. But what is the price? These men who never experience liberation, will never be given the opportunity for the gift of freedom to touch their heart. When we deny that which was given in love, we deny the opportunity for love to transform a heart. Can we so easily disregard that it is for freedom that Christ has set us free, just because we fear the consequences? Is it a spirit of fear that we have been given? Yet all religion is built upon fear and guilt. But not the kingdom.
Is the real fear what evil men will do with their freedom, or is the fear what good men will do with it? Perhaps, at the bottom of this pit of denial, it is even more base than that; perhaps the fear is: what will I do with freedom. If the best of men, the most noble and pious and religious and righteous in our eyes; if they cannot handle freedom then what are we to do? Doesn’t our fear make a mockery of the scripture: in our weakness his strength is perfected?
So it could be said that our fear of freedom ultimately stems from our own insecurity, that love would not be enough to compel us to...well, love. Though we have paid the concepts and scriptures much lip service, as good men ought to do; we don’t honestly believe love would truly transform the darkness in our own heart. And this is the birth of pious religion (in which good men abide); for we don’t truly believe that love covers our multitude of sin, or that mercy actually triumphs over judgment; and we certainly can’t believe it could ever transform us deeply enough that we would no longer need pious religion (and its “laws”) to enslave us for righteousness sake; or more accurately, for the sake of righteous appearance. So we run to religion, forming it around our deep seated fear and guilt so that we can enslave ourselves to it, hoping it will mitigate and curb the darkness and insecurity which reign in our hearts, just enough that we will be alright. Then we foist and coerce our religion onto others because surely freedom will be as impotent for them, as we fear it is for us.
Yes, all religion is built upon fear and guilt; but not the kingdom. The kingdom is built upon Christ; who is love and has set us free. So one might say the kingdom is built upon love and freedom. Just as Adam and Eve were free to choose, so are we. Yet how many willingly choose freedom? How many set out upon the path but turn back, disillusioned at their own heart, and unable to believe God’s grace can swallow up their sin? How many are shocked when salt water pours forth from their heart, after they remove the dam of guilt and fear? Is it really a surprise that the darkness which has been held back by the weight of fear, springs forth when that fear is first removed? This does not render love impotent. And how many are willing to leave the good this religion does for us? How could something that suppresses the darkness not be God? It must be God, they say. And so they retreat from freedom into their pious religion and call it Christian. But it is built on fear and guilt, how can it be the kingdom? Is it for fear that we have been set free?
This is the dilemma of freedom; it is a messy road. It exposes the darkness in our hearts, rather than hiding it as fear does. We fear being exposed like this more than we fear the bondage of religion. We see the mess of freedom and choose the sanitized, plastic religion we have always known. Yet, how can darkness be dispelled by light if it is not exposed? And what of those men who use their freedom to choose more darkness, you say? What of those men who use their freedom to choose light, I say; is one of these men not worth all the others who chose foolishly? Does God not leave the ninety-nine sheep and go after one? Does he not love enough to risk much darkness and rejection, to find even one who loves him back? If not, then what was the cross about? Can’t we see that our choice of fear over freedom, tramples the cross underfoot, as we deny its transforming love?
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