Journey of the Word

Almost weekly, I engage in conversation on matters of Christian opinion. My own opinions are rarely popular, and much to my consternation on most occasions, inquiring minds want to know. So we chat.

Yet the conversation that continues to puzzle me is the pervading belief that a Christian has the right to his/her liberty. The innumerable debates will make your head spin, and I don’t intend to repeat a single one of them here. I simply wonder at the irony of holding to a liberty as a right.

Must you drink alcohol when, where, and with whomever you like? Is “do not be drunk” the sole rule? Because a flashing of it in front of a recovering addict would seem to indicate that drunkenness is the only concern.

And so, on one hand, we have Christians who won’t associate with those who drink, and on the other, we have Christians who won’t be satisfied to drink water.

The more we dig, the more we discover that our hearts are fighting not for freedom, but for bondage.

Why do we demand our Christian liberty? Because we don’t want it to be a liberty. We want it to be a license. We want to be able to do whatever we want while we shout, “I’m not a legalist,” from the top of our lungs.

So we live to the hilt without a thought for effects, habits, or watching eyes, because “God said I could, and you can’t judge.”

We might not say it that way. But that is how we live it.

And the Christian liberty passages themselves are a call to “do not.”

For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another. Live as people who are free, not using your freedom as a cover-up for evil, but living as servants of God. Honor everyone. Let no one seek his own good, but the good of his neighbor.

This stuff. This is what freedom is made of.

{For more info on Christian liberty, check out 1 Corinthians 8-10, Galatians 5, 1 Peter 2}

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