Radical Freedom, Radical Grace Part 3: Freedom in Christ

In C.S. Lewis’s The Great Divorce, there is imagery that haunts me.

The damned arrive via bus at a meadow on the outskirts of Heaven.  They are ghostlike, translucent, fading away.   But Heaven is Real — blindingly, agonizingly so.  The grass feels like knives.  The stream like sharp shards of glass.  The flowers are too heavy to lift.

It is unbearable for most of the damned.  They return back to hell.  They cannot face what is True.  And so they are held captive in a prison of their own making.

Jesus said: “The Truth will set you free.”  But I don’t believe that the Truth of which He spoke has much at all to do with complex theological systems or abstract authority claims, as we tend to assume in modernity.  Instead, the Truth of which he spoke is much simpler…and much more robust.

It is Him.  

He is the Way and the Truth and the Life.  He is what sets us free.

How?

He allows us to be who we are.

We are human beings made in the image of God.  This means that, fundamentally, “who we are” are creatures built to love as He loves (and He is love).  In other words, we have the capacity to be so filled with the Love of God that we melt into Him; we become One with Him.  This is the essence of the Great Intercessory Prayer of John 17.  This is what He meant when He said that Life Eternal is to know God and Christ.  He didn’t mean some rudimentary head-knowledge of God’s characteristics.  He meant an experiential, Holy Union, the way we know our most cherished loved ones; a relationship between God and us and the people around us.

Yet so often, we choose not to be who we are.  We choose to be who we think we should be.  We choose to be who we think others want us to be.  We put pressure on people around us to do the same.  We pile on layers of deceit and shame, anger and judgment, lust and vice, fear and control.   We think we’re doing right, but every layer takes us further and further from Truth, from Him, until we’re wasting away like the ghosts in The Great Divorce.

But here is the miracle of it all: we can be who we are just the way we are.  We can choose Him this instant, whatever our circumstances, and He will set us free.

What does it look like?

Freedom in Christ means seeing our best qualities without boasting and our worst qualities without shame. It means seeing others’ best qualities without envy and their worst qualities without judgment.  It is being able to change and repent without fear or hesitation, because even when we make mistakes, we know our worth.  It is forgiving others before they apologize (or if they never do), because even when they make mistakes, we know their worth.

Freedom in Christ means embracing folks who are as flawed and floundering and foolish as we are (though perhaps in different ways) with the same open arms we’ve found in our union with Him.  It is letting those around us be free to experience their own transformations in their own way, trusting that God will do as well by them as He has by us.  It is knowing that whatever happens, however painful, He will use it for our good, for we are in Him and He in us.

Freedom in Christ means being transformed so that when He appears we shall be like Him.  It is knowing Him even as we are known.  It is being who we are — who we really, truly are — and knowing it is Enough.

Radical Freedom, Radical Grace Part 2: That Weak Things May Become Strong

In my last post, I introduced an idea that is fundamental to the way I make sense of this world: a perspective of radical freedom and radical grace.

Today, I want to explore another implication of this approach: the value of weakness.

In our fast-paced, modern world — and, let’s face it, our self-reliant Mormon culture — there is a sense that weakness and vulnerability are signs of inferiority.  That when we struggle, it is because we are doing something “wrong”; or, perhaps, not doing enough things “right.”

And sure enough, with the radical freedom we possess, we create much of our own misery with our choices.  That’s part of the purpose of this life, after all; to learn by our experience to determine good from evil.

But not all struggle is “choice”-related.  Some of it is the inherent frailty of the flesh.  We might say that Nature is as Radically Free as we are, and that it evolves all kinds of problems, such as illness, appetite, brutality, and disaster.  For all its stunning beauty, the natural world is also viciously cruel: we have no power against a tsunami, for example.  We are polarized beings in a polarized world, with sparks of divinity competing against base, fleshly instincts and natural processes that can destroy us in an instant.

Of course, we would not be free otherwise.  Without both extremes, it would be like living in the Truman Show or the Hunger Games, with everything, even the weather, perfectly controlled.   There are some who view God this way, as Master Game Maker, but not me.  I believe that uncertainty, disease, and corruption are the price we pay for freedom.  And that it’s worth it.

The question is what we do with it.