May 12, 2013 | 8:00 a.m.

There’s Freedom, and Then There’s Freedom

Victoria G. Curtiss
Associate Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Psalm 97
John 17:20–26
Acts 16:16–34

On the inward journey one discovers that all local power is finite and contingent, while at the same time discovering a power beyond all powers.

Parker Palmer

“One thing I like about living in New York,” the man said, “is the freedom. Here there is freedom to live the lifestyle I choose—to eat where I want and to dress as I like. Freedom.” Then, says William Willimon, the man closed his door behind us. He locked the latch, turned the deadbolt, inserted the chain, and switched on the electronic alarm, saying, “Don’t dare open that door without switching off the alarm or it will all break loose and the cops may shoot you dead” (William Willimon, “Freedom,” a sermon in Preaching, July–August 1987, pp. 21–24). So much for freedom.

Paul and Silas were on their way to church one day when they were accosted by a girl who was mentally unbalanced, who kept raving, “These men are slaves of the Most High God, who proclaim to you a way of salvation.” Even though what she said about them was true, Paul got annoyed, because she followed them around for days shouting at them and about them. Finally Paul turned to her and in the name of Christ ordered that the spirit that possessed her to be gone. It left her. Indeed, she was healed. She was freed from her earlier affliction.

Any of us who have suffered from serious depression, been tormented mentally, or have a loved one who struggles with mental illness, knows about the bondage this woman was in. It is as if a disturbing, ongoing darkness takes over and one is powerless in its grip. Just imagine the great relief to have such an enslaving force in one’s life released! Finally, to be free!

But this girl wasn’t really free. Though Paul and Silas may not have known it, she was a slave girl. Her owners made a lot of money off of her by forcing her to tell people’s fortunes, reading palms, and providing entertainment at conventions. Her life was not her own. She was another’s property, used for their gain, exploited with no way out. Today we call it human trafficking.

When the girl’s owners see that their means of making money is gone, they seize Paul and Silas, drag them to the public square before the authorities, and accuse them of disturbing the peace. The owners’ vested interests were threatened. They do not rejoice in the girl’s healing and liberation because they themselves are enslaved to making a profit. They make anti-Semitic remarks and unleash the crowd’s fears and hatred of the outsider. Silas and Paul are stripped, severely beaten, then thrown into jail. No trial, no jury; tortured and imprisoned on false accusations.

The jail guard feels constrained to follow orders to keep Paul and Silas tightly restrained and confined. He believes not only his job but his life is on the line based on how well he keeps the prisoners locked up—so much so, that when an earthquake shakes the cell doors ajar allowing the prisoners to escape, he takes up a weapon to kill himself. Only because Paul yells to him, “Don’t do it! We are all still here,” does the guard refrain from suicide.

Will Willimon writes, “Jesus has helped set a pitiful young woman free but two of Jesus’ people get jailed in the process. The one who came preaching, ‘You shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free’—well you know where he ended up. So Paul and Silas end up in prison, languishing there. . . . No, that’s not how the story goes.”

Instead of languishing, Paul and Silas pray aloud and sing hymns in the dark of night, as other prisoners listen in. When the earthquake shakes the prison foundations, breaking open the shackles on their feet, they do not flee to escape. The guard cannot believe it. He knew something was up with these guys—something he didn’t know about but was life-giving. Paul and Silas show no fear. They seem to be living from a higher authority. Iron bars do not a prisoner make. The jailer asks, “What must I do to be saved?” He becomes a convert to Christianity because of what he sees in Paul and Silas—two men who could have escaped, but didn’t. They were free, whether they were bound in chains or not. They were free because, as the slave girl had rightly and repeatedly shouted out, they are “slaves of the Most High God, who proclaim to you a way of salvation” (Acts 16:17).

Everyone in the story who at first appeared to be free—the slave owners, the judges, the jailer—is shown to be slaves. And everyone who first appeared to be enslaved—the poor girl, Paul and Silas—is free. That’s how Jesus works. Jesus said, “If the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed” (John 8:36). There’s freedom, and then there’s freedom.

In the 1980s, Bishop Emilio de Carvalho, the Methodist Bishop of Angola, spoke with some American pastors who wanted to know what it was like to be the church in a Marxist country.

“Is the new Marxist government supportive of the church?” they asked.

“No,” the bishop responded, “but we don’t ask it to be supportive.”

Have there been tensions?”

“Yes,” said the bishop. “Not long ago the government decreed that we should disband all women’s organizations in the church.”

“Oh my, what did you do?” his hearers asked.

“Oh, the women kept meeting. The government is not yet strong enough to do much about it.”

“But what will you do when the government becomes stronger?” came the next inquiry.

“Well,” said the bishop, “We shall keep meeting. The government does what it needs to do. The church does what it needs to do. If we go to jail for being the church, we shall go to jail. Jail is a wonderful place for Christian evangelism. Our church made some of its most dramatic gains during the revolution when so many of us were in jail. In jail, you have everyone there, in one place. You have time to preach and teach. Sure, twenty of our Methodist pastors were killed during the revolution, but we came out of jail a much larger and stronger church.”

And as if seeing the drift of his listeners’ questions, Bishop Carvalho said, “Don’t worry about the church in Angola. God is doing fine by us. Frankly, I would find it much more difficult to be a pastor here in Evanston, Illinois. Here there is so much, so many things; it must be hard to be the church here.”

Perhaps you haven’t thought before that having many things would make it hard to be the church. But the bishop raises an important question for us. Do we have money, or does money have us? Are we possessed by our possessions or our desire for them? Where are we in bondage and we don’t even realize it? Do we know true freedom in all aspects of our lives through Jesus Christ as our Lord?

Quaker author and teacher Parker Palmer wrote about the importance of regularly disengaging from society’s expectations and constant activity, because in doing so we are more likely to recognize where we are in bondage and move toward freedom from it. A path towards greater freedom is being on an inward journey—being still, in silence and solitude, praying and reflecting, centering oneself in God and deepening one’s trust in God’s Spirit. On that path we will move towards freedom.

One area to examine for how free we truly are is in our relationship to power. Palmer writes that on the inward journey, “one discovers that all local power is finite and contingent, while at the same time discovering a power beyond all powers. In this discovery are seeds of freedom, the birth of the recognition that one is not finally dependent upon social definitions of might and right.” Our heroes and heroines are men and women who have been empowered to move against and beyond injustice without fearing the consequences. Such courage does not come naturally. It comes only when we recognize the relativity of society’s order, especially in contrast to the ultimate order of God’s kingdom (Parker Palmer, “Escape and Engagement,” The Pendle Hill Bulletin, Number 270, March 1975). Without benefit of the inward journey, we are unable to perceive, let alone challenge such forces as racism, militarism, and classism in our society.

Another place we need freedom is in relation to the problem of human insecurity. We get swept up in seeking security through material comforts, status, prestige, and approval from others. Those who have lots of security in the eyes of society stay in line for fear of losing it. Those who have little security stay in line in hopes of getting more. But on the inward journey, where we seek to put our trust in Jesus Christ, we discover new ways of looking at personal security. We realize that life simply does not offer security if it is lived faithfully and well. And as life is so lived, the very question of security increasingly fades. The person who lives for the sake of right living becomes free from hoping for praise and from fearing blame.

We also need freedom in relation to the problem of personal effectiveness. All of us want to make a difference in the world, to leave a legacy of our impact. This may lead us to be very busy, even though our actions may not be purposeful or grounded in God’s leading. In the inward journey, we can discover meaning in simply being, which is deeper and more permanent than the rewards of frantic doing. Through the power of silence, stillness, and non-action, we become less dependent upon compulsive activity. “There is a simple quality of ‘presence,’ of being with, of standing by, which leaves a deeper mark on people and situations than all the busyness we can contrive, and such a presence is nurtured only by deep inwardness.” The inward journey frees us to perform work that is truly creative and useful, rather than being driven to make our mark and be approved.

Parker Palmer says we need to embrace a paradox: “The authentic escape is one which empowers the ex-prisoner to return voluntarily to prison, to work within the structures and strictures of society without yielding one’s freedom.” The only genuine freedom “is the one which brings the escapee back to those who are still shackled, back within the reach of the jailer’s power. But now the jailer’s power can be suffered. The escapee who returns is faithful to a power beyond the prison” (Parker Palmer, “Escape and Engagement,” The Pendle Hill Bulletin, Number 270, March 1975).

Those who are free in Jesus Christ are more equipped to deal with feelings of insignificance when those feelings arise. Freedom in Christ means our egos will be more grounded in reality and less dependent on looking good in others’ eyes. We understand that “making history” is a question of faithfulness, not headlines; since God is the Lord of history, we make history by being God’s people. Those who are free in the Lord will be less likely to faint or grow weary in the face of frustration. We can see things “under the aspect of eternity,” knowing that a seed planted today may germinate and bear fruit on a time scale that far outruns one’s own lifetime. Those who know freedom in Christ will be less surprised by evil and not undone by it. Trusting God is at work in the world gives us strength and courage.

There is freedom, and then there is true freedom. Jesus said, “If the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed” (John 8:36). What must you do to be saved from bondage? Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and trust him with your life. Amen.