September 13, 2013

As a child I had an extreme case of claustrophobia. My older brother knew this. When I chose to annoy, he would wrap me in a blanket and the games would begin. Knowing that he would grow bored with a passive lump of non-resistance, I tried my best to remain still. Yet, he recognized that the eye of the storm could last but a few seconds. He was correct. As the panic swept over me I would begin kicking and clawing and screaming. In terms of seconds, the torture was brief. There were adults within earshot and my brother was both wise and self-preserving in these matters. He would release me, the blanket would fly off and I would be momentarily left wild-eyed and dangerous.

While I have mostly outgrown that particular expression of claustrophobia, there are terrors of confinement that remain. They have been with me all my life and I much doubt that I will ever be fully cured. At best, or better – when I am at my best – I may experience a momentary remission. But for the most part, that sense of stifled incarceration, with its low-grade anxiety, haunts.

We speak in the Christian faith of freedom. By that we most often mean freedom from a negative such as: sin, addictions, guilt, shame, pettiness, grousing, gossip, fear of death and such. I know of whole ministries dedicated to teaching and affirming this “freedom from” meme. The truths that are taught are sound and helpful insofar as they go. But defining ourselves by what we are not can lead to the aforementioned constrictions, a spiritual claustrophobia if you will.

There are hazards to being a minister. Along with getting some rather yawning gifts at Christmas such as Bible Pictionary, Bible Trivia, and “Footprint” plaques, there are the expectations co-joined with the title. The reasoning goes as such: “If he is a minister, he must have heard from God.” It branches out from there to: “He is special, he hears from God.” Or, “He is weird. He thinks he hears from God.” Either one is a blanket that causes me to kick, claw and scream. But whichever way, both opinions coalesce around an anticipation that because of said calling – be it real or imagined - I will conduct myself in a particular way, that I will behave, that I will “not do” a lot of things.

It is a stuffy, diminished existence, this covered in blanket living. Jesus said something about letting my light shine, yet a servile adherence to copious lists, biblical or otherwise, feels rather like wearing a room darkening shade over the lamp. Can a Christianity that defines itself in the negative cause any serious and good contagion? Can I help anyone, anywhere if I feel claustrophobic? Shall I invite people to join me in legalistic phobia?

I am aware that I risk sounding a bit like Augustine with his wandering confessions in this brief reflection, and for that I apologize. Yet, something important is surfacing in these latter years of my Christian journey. I am fairly optimistic that I will finish with a fides incorruptus (pure faith). I have witnessed too much to ever consider abandoning ship. There are innumerable and empirical evidences that I’ve chronicled over the years. God really does answer prayer and oftentimes in very dramatic ways.

Yet…I feel the need for more. I know well the “ought nots.” They are imposed from without and within. But a life beyond the blanket beckons. I can see, just now and again, through the fabric. I am not meant merely to be free from; I am created to be free for. Yes, Jesus died for my sins - the ought-nots - but that seems incidental to what he is really up to. His purpose is life abundant, not merely escape from death.

The Apostle Paul caught this. He would say, “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.”  Galatians 5:1. The larger context of this particular epistle is Paul’s passionate plea to not once again become hampered by a life of do’s and don’ts; what Dallas Willard (in a delightful turn of phrase) referred to as: “The Gospel of Sin Management.” Behaving is commendable. Living a life of freedom is infectious.

You see it in sports. Athletes who are concerned with not making a mistake are timid, mechanical and second-guessing. They play in such a way so as not to earn the ire of the coach. But do you see what is happening? Their loyalties are split between the field of play and the sidelines, micro-second glances from one to the other. Playing the game well requires a single-minded focus and a certain sense of abandon.

To navigate each day trying not to fail can keep us from risking God’s intended success. And, the more successful we become at rising to our freedom, the less we tend to fail. I think that’s the nub of it.