Finding Freedom in Christ

Freedom. An easy concept. A difficult reality.

What happens to you when you enter a relationship with Jesus Christ? Is your freedom curtailed or expanded, diminished or enhanced?

Think of it this way: freedom is merging your will with God’s will, so that your life choices are augmented by the Lord’s reservoir of wisdom. After all, God’s been around an awfully long time. He knows how to navigate your path up the mountain, while meeting your needs along the way.

Yet many people feel squeamish about calling on God for daily guidance. “I need to take responsibility for my own choices,” says one man—“I can’t go running to God for every little problem.” 

I respect this perspective. There is a certain amount of truth here. God gives us freedom of choice, and exercising that freedom develops initiative and responsibility. But what is missing from this view is the recognition that Christ loves people wisely. The Lord doesn’t intend to merge your will with his to keep you immature or make you slavishly codependent. He’s not interested in lording his power over you.

No, the Lord wants to guide you through a rhythm of creative interaction, the way two lifelong companions talk things over and keep each other near at heart. Jesus is interested in everything you face, just as he was with the disciples. His goal is to keep you free and growing toward ever greater dimensions of psychological and spiritual wholeness. Paul has it right in Galatians 5:1—“For freedom Christ has set us free.”

Think about it. At all times, and in every situation, you have freedom to pray for God’s unfolding will. This doesn’t undermine your identity, but strengthens it. You trust God to move inside you and within every situation so that his blessings for you are made real.

If you are prone to worry, refuse to accept this as a precondition of life. Have you ever realized that worry is optional? That worry is a choice, not a necessity? Worry is a habit of not trusting yourself and not trusting God. Worry rates the Lord as a failure when it comes to guiding you. Usually we develop the worry habit when someone has undermined our self-confidence, or when a series of reversals have made us fearful that life will never turn out okay.

Worry is not God’s will for you. “But I’m afraid I’ll make the wrong choice,” you say. Or, “How can I tell if God is really guiding me?” You’ll never have 100% certainty. Don’t waste your time searching for spiritual guarantees. Just build a creative rhythm between worry and trust, weakness and strength. That works just fine.

You are not alone when it comes to worry. I worry. My wife Kate worries. All people fret when they can’t control life and make it behave. On top of that, we’ve all experienced bitter losses and moments when life has nearly crushed us.

The way out of worry is to remember that the other side of worry—the other fork in the trail—is trusting in the Lord. Deepening your individual bond with Christ helps you bypass chronic worry by leaning on him for help. You still have to make choices, and you still have occasional doubts, but you begin to know that the Holy Spirit hovers over you like a mother watching over a child.

Fear loses its grip when you trust the Lord in real-life situations and discern the nuances of his ready help in the face of need. Over time, you develop a faith history with God that bears witness to his ingenious provisions—his sometimes subtle and sometimes dramatic interventions on your behalf. 

There is no perfect way through life, nor is there a way of living that bypasses disappointment and adversity. But you can understand that most frustrations are merely inconvenient, not catastrophic. Over the years you evolve an encompassing trust in Christ’s love, reaching out to him instinctively when you face particularly gnarly problems.

Today alone I have asked the Lord to help me pay some important bills, guide Kate and me in fulfilling our life callings, and help a friend who is undergoing surgery. I even prayed for assistance in writing this blog.

Openly express gratitude to God, never writing off a blessing as good luck or coincidence. Catch him being good to you and let him know how you feel about it. You praise Jesus for his faithfulness, and give him lots of heart hugs.  Watch for God's blessings in your life this week!

For an in depth treatment of finding freedom and wholeness in Jesus Christ, read:

COMPASS PSYCHOTHEOLOGY: 

WHERE PSYCHOLOGY & THEOLOGY REALLY MEET

How Does Jesus' Sinlessness Help Us?

"He committed no sin and no deceit was found in his mouth" (1 Peter 2:22).

The New Testament insists that Jesus Christ was completely free from sin (John 8:46; 2 Corinth 5:21; Hebrews 4:15, 7:26; 1 John 3:5). He never disobeyed his Father. He loved God's law and found wholehearted joy in keeping it. 

Psychiatrist Karen Horney once cited wholeheartedness as an elusive goal of mental health because of people's inner conflicts. In fallen human beings, there is always reluctance to obey God, to risk a life of faith, to receive chastisement from the Word of God. And there is even resentment amounting to hatred at the claims God makes on us:  "For the sinful nature is always hostile to God. It never did obey God’s laws, and it never will" (Romans 8:7). 

But Jesus' moral nature kept true to God, as had Adam and Eve's moral nature prior to their sin and fall from grace. This passionate fidelity to knowing and doing God's will is what distinguishes Christ from us. It's not just that he confronted social injustice or gave inspired teaching. It's that in Jesus there was no motivation or inclination away from God for Satan to play upon. But there is in us. 

Jesus loved his Father and his Father's will with all his heart and mind, body and spirit. But we are torn by inner conflicts. Our moral compass is broken. Our human nature wars within us and with other people, even if we are decent and caring part of the time. Far from seeking God's will night and day like Jesus did, we want God to do our will. We avoid intimacy with God, for fear he might require something of us that would be uncomfortable or inconvenient.

I remember a well-known psychologist confiding in me: "Dan, there is an evil that lurks within every person, a resistance to growth and health. Sometimes I think our profession is naive about the categories of evil that destroy so many lives."

But Jesus wasn't naive about the categories of evil. Hebrews 4:15 says that Jesus was "tempted in every way, just as we are," though without sinning. This means that every type of temptation we face — temptations to wrongfully indulge the desires of body and mind, to evade moral and spiritual issues, to become self protective and self pitying — came upon him, but he yielded to none of them. Overwhelming opposition did not overwhelm Jesus. 

Through the agony of Gethsemane and the cross he fought temptation and resisted sin to the point of surrendering his life as an atonement for our sins. Jesus can strengthen us with a kindred resolve to do God's will.

Jesus' sinlessness was necessary for our salvation. Had he not been "a lamb without blemish or defect" his blood would not have been "precious" (1 Peter 1:19). He would have needed a Savior himself, and his death would not have redeemed us. 

Jesus Christ's obedient faithfulness (perfect lifelong conformity to God's law for humankind and the Father's will for the Son, our Messiah) qualified Jesus to become our Savior and everlasting Lord. Jesus' obedient suffering (receiving the penalty of God's broken law as our sinless substitute) secured the pardon and acceptance of those who put their faith in him. 

"But as many as received him, to them gave he the right to become children of God, even to them that believe on his name: who were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God" (John 1:12-13).

Witnessing That Jesus Christ Is the Lord

Driving my motorcycle down a country highway, I heard a metallic pop and instantly lost all power. Steering to the side of the road I coasted to a halt about a yard this side of a driveway that meandered up to an impressive looking estate.

Since there was no traffic on this seldom used road I jogged up the driveway to the country mansion. I hoped to use the phone. When I got there a man answered the door, scowling.

“Excuse me, sir,” I said. “My bike chain broke out on the road. I wonder if I might use your phone to make a quick call.”

“No,” he said. “You can’t.”

Stunned, I studied his face. Uncut whiskers. Red cheeks. Balding scalp. Blotchy rings under his eyes. Not a happy fellow.

“Well, it’s a long walk back to town," I said. "I’ll just be on the phone a moment.”

“So you think you can invade a man's property and use his phone like its yours?”

I reached for my wallet. “I’ll be glad to pay you five dollars.” 

“Never mind,” he said curtly. He unlocked the screen and opened it. “Just hurry up.”

Marching ahead of me, he led me to a living room phone, then sat down in a nearby chair and stared at me. I felt so self-conscious that I forget my friend’s phone number. “May I use your directory?”

He strutted off to another room and in a minute came back with a phone book in one hand one and a drink in the other. “So what are you doing out this way, anyhow? Not many people use that old highway.”

“I was taking my bike out for a spin. I bought it secondhand last week. I’m a student at the seminary.”

“Oh, one of those Jesus nuts.”

I found the number and dialed it. No answer. I sighed.

“So where’s God when you need him?” asked the man.

I hung up the receiver. “That’s a good question,” I said. “I didn’t even think God existed until a couple years ago. I was a died-in-the-wool atheist.”

“Like me,” he said. “So then you got religion?”

“Not really. I don’t like religion much. But what happened was I stumbled into a church service one night and heard a message that Jesus is still alive. It was at a time when I felt very alone. At the altar call I went down and told Jesus that if this was true—if he was a real person who really existed—then I wanted to know him. I felt a peace come into me that has changed my life direction.”

The man swirled the ice cubes in his glass and sipped. “I don’t believe any of that God crap,” he said. “But I know what you mean about being lonely.”

“How’s that?”

“I never got married and both my parents are dead. I made a lot of money in manufacturing and retired when I was fifty. I bought this place.”

I looked around at the Arabian carpet and fine furnishings. “It’s a great place.”

“Yeah, but it don't mean much when you're all alone. This Jesus thing you got. Does it comfort you?”

"Not always. But most of the time, yes. I feel comforted by the Holy Spirit."

He grunted and stood up, gesturing toward to the door. “I have a piece of advice for you. Jesus is just a crutch. Him and the Holy Ghost are imaginary friends you made up in your head to keep you company. When you have as much money as I do, you can buy any god you want. But the God you're talking about doesn't exist.” He opened the screen door to usher me out.

“Would it be possible to give me a lift back into town?” I asked.

“No. My favorite show's about to start. But since Jesus is such a good friend to you, I'm sure he'll help you out, right?” 

“Yes," I said. “He will.” I turned and started jogging down the driveway toward the highway, feeling way out on a limb with no one to help me. But Jesus.

I didn’t feel comforted. I felt lousy. I felt upset. I felt mad—at God. For leaving me stranded in a place I didn’t want to be with a man I never wanted to see again. Worse than that, I felt humiliated. Here I was telling this guy that the Lord Jesus Christ is alive today, and that the Holy Spirit watches out for me. And now this same guy was chuckling at my stupidity and watching me hoof it down the road to my busted motorcycle.

“Jesus, where are you when I need you?” I grumped.

Back at the motorcycle I knelt down and gathered the loose chain that lay like a dead snake underneath my bike. Ten miles. Should I push the bike or set out jogging and hopefully make it to town before midnight? Would the bike be safe or would someone load it into the back of a pickup and drive off? Did God know anything about bikes, chains, and stranded hitchhikers or was he too busy guiding stars in their orbits around the Milky Way? I kicked the bike. It fell over. My toe hurt. I felt like a fool.

I perked my ears at the sound of an approaching vehicle. Over the hill came a truck. I waved my arms to signal distress. As I did so I noticed out of the corner of my eye the man in the mansion, still standing on his porch, still swirling his drink, watching. My drama must have proved more entertaining than the TV show.

The driver pulled over and got out of the truck. He walked straight to my bike. 

“Chain break?” he asked.

“Yeah. I don’t have any tools.”

“No problem,” he said. Underneath his billed cap I saw the flash of friendly eyes. “Burt’s Motorcycle Shop,” he said, pointing to the sign on the side of truck. “I’m Burt.”

Some people call it luck. Others call it fate or good karma. I call it the God who is there. Burt and I rolled my bike up the ramp and secured it in the back of his truck. 

I hopped into the passenger seat, opened the window, and waved goodbye to the man in the mansion, the Holy Spirit having authenticated my witness that Jesus Christ is the Lord.