Freedom and Responsibility

Background Passages: John 8:31-36, Romans 8:3-4, I Peter 2:16, Galatians 5:13-23, James 2:14-18 and James 1:25

Early in my public relations career, I attended my first out of state business trip. How novel to travel half way across the country on someone else’s dime.

Robin and I drop the boys off with my parents in Ropesville, Texas, and boarded a plane for Pennsylvania. I wasn’t that excited about the conference, but I jumped at the chance to go to Philadelphia over the July 4th holiday.

I attended the obligatory meetings, but as soon as I could shake free, Robin and I walked the historic parts of the city. The Liberty Bell. Independence Hall. Parades. Fireworks. All the trappings of the Fourth of July in an historic city.

Standing behind the rope and staring at the 56 desks in that sweltering room in Independence Hall, I could almost see and hear those men debating their grievances against England and its king.

Samuel and John Adams. Benjamin Franklin. Thomas Jefferson. John Hancock.

Hancock, the president of the Second Continental Congress and governor of Massachusetts, is remembered more for his large and flamboyant signature than his role in leading the Congress.

Though the story is anecdotal, Hancock signed the document with a flourish and remarked, “The British ministry can read that name without spectacles. Let them double their reward.”

He probably didn’t really utter that line, but as they said at the end of the 1962 film, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence, “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.”

Though the 56 men representing the 13 colonies agreed in principle to the words of the Declaration on July 4, they didn’t actually sign it until August 2. Still, the significance of the declaration is a call for freedom that we celebrate as a nation today.

I love the words first learned in school.

“…We hold these truths to be self-evident; that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness…”

I sit here today knowing we as a nation have not always lived up to that standard of those words. I sit here knowing that we too often fail to grasp the full weight of the responsibilities that go with freedom and liberty.

I sit here today knowing they may be the most significant words of freedom ever written in a secular, political context. They represent ideals worth celebrating. Ideals worth pursuing with vigor. Ideals worth our best efforts to achieve for all people.

Freedom. Liberty. Rich blessings far too many on earth do not have. Blessings far too easily taken for granted by those who enjoy them.

In the middle of the family and community celebrations this week, let’s remember the true significance of those words.

We ought also to remember God-inspired words which speak to our spiritual liberty and freedom so central to our faith as Christians.

Martin Luther penned a treatise in 1520 called On the Freedom of a Christian. I remember reading parts of his paper in my one year of seminary. He declared in his work that “A Christian is a perfectly free lord of all, subject to none. A Christian is a perfectly dutiful servant, subject to all.”

The statements seemed contradictory, but not to Luther. Our faith and trust in Jesus frees us from being slaves to a salvation doctrine that requires good works.

Luther taught that salvation cannot be earned by doing good things. It is a grace gift, freely given by a loving God to anyone who believes in Jesus Christ. Therefore, Luther says, Christians are completely free, not bound by any law, rule or commandment that we must keep in order to earn salvation.

But, Luther also said there is a flip side to the coin. Though set free in this way from salvation dependent upon good works, we are not set free from doing good works.

With the freedom that exists under Christ, there is great responsibility. Let’s think quickly about both of these ideas.

Jesus sat down with a group of Jews who had believed in him. He began to teach them what it means to be one of his followers. As he taught, he uttered what may be the most significant words of freedom ever written in a spiritual context.

“To the Jews who believed in him, Jesus said, ‘If you hold to my teachings, you are really my disciples. Then, you will know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.” (John 8:31-32)

The Jewish believers struggled with the concept, proud of their national identity and proud of the fact that though they were subjected to foreign occupation throughout their history, they refused to call themselves slaves. Freedom, you see, was trapped within their political reality. It took but a moment for Jesus to drive home his point.

“Everyone who sins is a slave to sin. Now a slave has no permanent place in the family, but a son belongs to it forever. So, if the Son sets you free, you are free indeed.” (John 8:34-36)

Jesus is talking about a reality of life. If we were required to be 100 percent obedient to God’s law in order to obtain salvation, none of us would gain an entry pass to heaven. Paul said it clearly, “For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.”

In the good news of the gospel God made provision for our weakness. We are freed from both the eternal consequences and control of sin.

You see, the truth Jesus spoke about to all who would listen, the truth that sets us free from the burden of perfect compliance, is the grace gift of salvation in Jesus Christ.

“You shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free.” is our spiritual declaration of independence.

Paul told the believers in Rome, “What the law of Moses could not do, God did by sending his own son as an offering for sin, bearing man’s punishment for him so he could be set free from sin and enjoy the fellowship of God.” (Romans 8:3-4)

God through Jesus Christ and our faith in him, bore the consequences of our failure to live up to the standard he set before us. Because of that, we should live differently, trying harder each day to avoid the control of sin in our lives.

Peter encouraged those early Christians with these words.

“Act as free men and do not use your freedom as a covering to do evil, but use it as bondslaves to God. (I Peter 2:16)

In her book, You Learn By Living: Eleven Keys to a More Fulfilling Life,” Eleanor Roosevelt wrote that freedom places its own requirements on all who live under its blanket.

“With freedom comes responsibility. For the person who is unwilling to grow up, the person who does not want to carry his own weight, this is a frightening prospect.”

The liberty we enjoy as a nation sets us free to live pretty much as we choose, but it carries the great responsibility of citizenship. We bear the responsibility protecting our freedoms, respecting the rights of others and ensuring those freedoms extend to all of us. For freedom to work well in society, those who enjoy the freedom must live well. Do right. Care for one another.

Paul said something similar applies to Christ followers. He told a group of struggling Christians in Galatia,

“You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh, rather serve one another humbly in love. For the entire law is fulfilled in this one command, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ If you bite and devour one another, watch out or you will be destroyed by one another.” (Galatians 5:13-15)

Paul urges his fellow believers to “walk in the spirit,” calling them to produce fruit, or evidence of their faith in their daily lives. Things such as “love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things.” (Galatians 5:22-23)

Unlike Ms. Roosevelt’s political context, the Bible teaches that with spiritual freedom comes even greater responsibility. To the person unwilling to grow spiritually, the person who does not carry the cross of his testimony in Christ, this is a frightening prospect.

For spiritual freedom to work well, those who enjoy the freedom in Christ must live well. Do right. Care for one another. We must feel compelled by conscience and conviction to do good works.

Jesus taught us all we need to know about living well. His life was the open textbook. Building relationships. Healing the hurting. Feeding the hungry. Caring for the helpless. Opening the doors for an eternal relationship with God to all with eyes to see and ears to hear. His life, full to the brim with faith in his father, was a life spent doing good works.

My Mom was a woman of practical faith. Her faith was not a “Sunday go to meeting with white gloves on” kind of faith where one professed a trust in Christ yet whose deeds showed little evidence of it. She got her hands dirty in God’s good work caring for the elderly in the Lubbock community.

In my favorite passage from James, the writer refutes the idea that faith frees us to do what we please; that we are under no obligation to do good to others.

“What good is it my brothers if someone claims they have faith, but has no deeds? Can such faith save them? Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace, keep warm and well fed,’ but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, it is dead.

“But someone will say, ‘You have faith. I have deeds.’ Show me your faith without deeds and I will show you my faith by my deeds.” (James 2:14-18)

Every good deed, every act of mercy, every act of love extended to another ought to be a natural outgrowth of the freedom we have in Christ. It is within the living of a Christ-like life of love that we find our blessings.

“But anyone who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom and continues in it, not forgetting what they heard, but doing it, they will be blessed in what they do.” (James 1:25)

Though I am far from perfect, I am keenly aware of the responsibility my faith carries to live well and do good.

I am grateful today for the freedom I have as an American. I do not take it lightly. I recognize the responsibility that comes with it.

I am, however, far more grateful today for the freedom granted me by the grace of God through my belief in Jesus as my savior.

It is a self-evident truth. “You shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free.”

On this July 4th weekend, that is my spiritual declaration of independence.

Here’s Mud In Your Eye

Background Passage: John 9:1-41

God created us with intelligence and natural curiosity. He created us to reason and think. To learn something new every day we live. That’s why I love being around children. In a quest of new discovery, they are willing to ask a thousand questions just to understand one thing more. Learning is a God-given gift.

That’s why I love to study scripture. There is so much of God’s plan and purpose I do not understand, I always feel like a child on the verge of discovery. Seeking new insight. Tossing away old paradigms. I believe there is always something new God can teach me about his nature…about the life he has given me.

That’s probably why I struggle with those who live in such certainty that their faith gets set in concrete leaving them unable and unwilling to test what they know. Dogma is the death of discovery. When it comes to my faith, my certainty rests in my personal experiences, everything else is discovery. Maybe that’s why the blind man in John 9 is one of my favorite Bible characters.

Deep blue skies.
No cloud in sight.
By daily measure…ordinary.
To those walking the streets of Jerusalem…unnoticed.
To the man born blind…remarkable.

He sat on the stone-lined edge of the Pool of Siloam.
Feet dangling into the water.
Cool.
Clear.
Staring in wonder at his reflection
Framed by the blue heavens above.
His first time to see his own image.
His first time to see anything.
His trembling fingers traced the hollow of his eyes.
Touched the rise of his cheeks
The contour of his nose.
Brushed through his coarse beard.
Ran his fingertips along his sun-baked lips.

Heart racing.
Breath,
a series of ragged gasps.
He lifted his eyes to the world around him
and immediately raised his hands.
Shielded his eyes from the harsh glare
of the mid-morning sun.
He blinked.
Tears running down a face
he had never known.

A world of touch and texture,
brought to life in a
confusion of form and color,
now coalesced around him.

For the first time he saw…
the ripple of wind on water.
The elegance of the portico-covered pool.
The dance of sunlight and shadow.
The beauty of the surrounding hills.
The people…oh, the people.

Slowly, his mind adjusted to this new reality.
Standing awkwardly like a new colt,
steadied by the joyful friend who guided him here from the temple,
the man gradually found his balance…
not an easy task for one blind since birth.

In time,
they danced.
Sang.
Laughed.
Cried.
On his way home…
throughout the streets of Jerusalem…
he shouted to anyone and everyone,
“I can see!
I was blind, but now I see!”

John tells this poignant story in a series of scenes set between two major confrontations between Jesus and the Pharisees. We find Jesus and his disciples leaving their time of worship through the south gate of the Temple. As they walked down the steps, his disciples posed a question steeped in Jewish tradition. Pointing to a man begging on the bottom of the Temple steps, they asked,

“Jesus, who sinned, this man or his parents that he was born blind?”

According to the prevailing belief of the day sin was responsible for all illness and disability. A child sick or disabled since birth either sinned somehow in the womb or the parents’ disobedience caused this infirmity. Jesus often fought this kind of misguided thinking. Seizing this teachable moment, Jesus explained to his disciples.

“Neither this man nor his parents sinned. This happened so the work of God might be displayed in his life…While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”

Neither God nor man caused this unfortunate circumstance, but God would use this man’s condition as a living metaphor of his ability to turn darkness and despair into light and life.

With that declaration, Jesus approached the man. Sat next to him on the steps. Engaged him in quiet conversation. Sensing the man’s open heart, Jesus spat on the ground and worked his saliva and the light gray limestone soil into a muddy paste that he spread across the man’s eyes. Taking his hands in his own, Jesus stood, lifting the man to his feet.

Now, go,” he said, “wash in the Pool of Siloam.”

With the help of a friend, the man made his way down the slope of the Temple Mount, about a quarter of a mile southward toward the large, terraced pool, fed by the Gihon Spring. The man must have received odd looks as he made his way through the crowd with mud covering his eyes.

He sat on the edge of the water and did has he was instructed. Splashing the cool water on his face, the man wiped the mud from his eyes. I can see him taking a deep breath as he wipe away the water and grim with the sleeve of his robe. Slowly, he opened his eyes to a brand new world.

Over the next few hours and days, the man faced disbelief and disparagement. Some friends thought him an impostor. The Pharisees called him before the council, not to celebrate his healing, but badger him in hopes of accusing Jesus of violating the Sabbath. They sapped the joy of his healing.

Fearing for their own reputation, his own parents refused to stand by him. Ultimately, the Pharisees condemned him as a sinner, eventually excommunicating the man from the synagogue because he refused to deny that Jesus was the one who restored his sight.

In the end, John tells us that Jesus sought out the man whom he healed after learning about the Pharisees’ actions. Face to face with Jesus, the man made a heart-felt confession of faith. At the Pool of Siloam, in the blink of an eye, his physical blindness became 20/20 vision. Over the course of the next 48 hours, he went from being entombed in spiritual darkness to being embraced by the Light of the world.

The power of Jesus echoes throughout this amazing story. But, I also marvel at the authoritative testimony of the man born blind. Standing before a hostile panel of powerful religious leaders who called him a fraud, grilled him mercilessly, challenged his every word, the man never faltered. Never failed to speak the truth.

The Pharisees clamored for him to deny Jesus’ power. Pushed him to denounce his healer. “We know this man is a sinner!” they shouted, challenging him to confirm their accusation. With uncommon strength of character, the man, so unlearned in theology, said simply,

“Whether he is a sinner or not, I don’t know. One thing I do know. I was blind, but now I see.”

What an extraordinary confession of faith!

Imagine the man’s first few moments at the pool. Sights never seen began to fall into context in new ways. Not only were his eyes changed, but God transformed his mind to allow him to interpret and make a sense of what he was seeing for the first time. The miracle changed his heart. A life of resigned despair became a life of renewed hope and endless possibilities.

So what is the take away from this man’s experiences?

There is so much about God’s creation I do not understand. So much about his plan and purpose I cannot comprehend. So much about his nature which remains unknown to me. So much he still must teach me. I don’t know about you, but like the Pharisees, I tend to build a false world around me filled with my plans, my truth and my finite understanding of God and his world based on what I think I know. What I’ve discovered in my life is that that viewpoint is almost always limited. To an extent, that’s okay.

Look at this man’s example. He could not explain what happened. How his eyes were opened remained a mystery to him. He didn’t claim to understand. Nor did he back down in the face of mounting pressure. He merely spoke out with a growing faith borne of powerful, personal experience.

“This one thing I do know. I was blind, but now I see.”

What an extraordinary confession of faith! This man born blind from birth would find ahead of him a life of discovery, not just in the physical world he could now see, but in his budding faith. Knowing what he did not know, he started his new life on what he had experienced with Jesus. That’s a fine place to start.

When I don’t have answers to every question that comes my way, this one thing I do know. I was blind, but now I see.

So, my prayer today is simple. “God, cover my eyes in mud. Let me wash in the Pool of Siloam. Let me understand more clearly, God, who you are and what you need from me. Let me see the world from your perspective. Open my heart and my mind to the discovery of this life you’ve given me. At the end of the day, when the world challenges that which I do not fully know, let me share my personal experiences with you.”

Maybe that’s a prayer that works for you as well.

Here’s mud in your eye.