Freedom from Condemnation

This is part of a four part series on freedom from condemnation. The four parts ended up being Freedom from Condemnation, Repentance, Parenting, and Drivenness.

I've been reflecting on our freedom from condemnation over the last several days. On Sunday night, as I was closing out the Youth Retreat that I was leading, the message of freedom from condemnation was the message I wanted to send them home with. All of our life is filled with law that leads to sin and death. It's law that kills us. Law that reveals our inadequacy and failure, whether the law is the biblical law, some internal law that we create for ourselves, or some external law that others place on us. They all carry condemnation. They remind us that we cannot ultimately succeed. Paul's claim, and ultimately the claim of the Gospel, is that the Christian person is set free from the expectation that we can ultimately attain our righteousness through the law.

The tension for the Christian–and really, it is no tension at all, but it is one that we create–is trying to figure out exactly what that means. One tendency, and the easy one to debunk, is to believe that Paul must be mistaken and that, while Jesus death covers our past sins, it is now on us to make sure that from here on out we fulfill the law more than we break the law. This is simple to throw away because it is not good news. I can't keep the law, and I'm reminded daily. In fact, this is the very thing that the law is designed to do! So if I have to earn something now that Jesus has covered my sins, I'm in deep trouble.

The other tendency is to believe that the law no longer exists, or no longer has any value. Thus, to be set free means that the law has been erased and therefore has no hold on us. We find this idea challenging to accept, and rightfully so. If it's true that there is no law and therefore no expectation, then what has Christ's death really done? It has certainly freed us, but freed us to do what? Has it freed us to sin all the more? Paul is clear that this is not the case, but then by which measure do we understand sin, if there is no law?

No, the freedom Paul speaks of is freedom from the condemnation of the law. That is, because the Law (of God) has been so ultimately fulfilled by Jesus, we no longer live under it's condemnation. It is still completely valid. It is right. It is good. It's just not condemning for us. We don't worry about our own ability to perfectly fulfill what God has commanded, because Jesus has perfectly fulfilled it on our behalf. We don't consider our accomplishments in relationship to the Law to increase our righteousness either. We are already perfectly righteous because of Jesus.

The reason we create a tension where there doesn't have to be one is that we cannot comprehend of a legal system where the law is still valid but the punishments are not. It doesn't make sense that "murder", for example, continues to be wrong, but if we do murder, we get off free with no condemnation. If it is the case that we are truly free from the condemnation of the law, then we really are ultimately free from the law itself. In other words, we are free to live however we wish to live. "There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." Thus, the tension: is it possible that we are saved, and so therefore we can sin freely?

At the most basic level, the answer is "yes". If it is true that we are totally, one hundred percent covered by the grace and mercy of Jesus Christ, so that there can be nothing held against us anymore, that there can be no accusers, that we can no longer be condemned, then we are truly and radically free and no amount of sinning after the fact can change it. That's freedom.

A more nuanced answer, however, will be "yes, but we won't". That is, yes, we can sin. We can live however we wish. But we won't, because we have been utterly transformed by the power of the Holy Spirit. Since it is the Spirit who sets us free, and makes us new, it is the Spirit who empowers us to actually carry out the very spirit of the law; it is the Spirit that enables us to truly love God and love others, and that is the crux of the whole matter. So while we are totally and radically free to go out and live however we want, the transformation in us is such that we will actually begin to live more fully the way that God intended in our love for God and others, so that even without the law we are fulfilling the law. This is why the same apostle who so radically declares our freedom from condemnation and the law can at the same time express confidently that what will be evident in us is fruit; the Spirit will be working. It is not optional. We are being transformed.

This is the first response to the tension we feel in response to our freedom: the "law" that we are now under is the "law of the Spirit"; the transforming spirit that enables us to carry out the intentions of God from the very beginning, which is to love God and others.

The second response to the tension that there can be a valid law without condemnation is really the heart of the Gospel message. Jesus himself says that he did not come to abolish the law, but to fulfill it. The law continues to carry with it punishments. The great breach of the law was the failure to love God and to love others; the punishment was, and is, death. Jesus repairs the breach and takes the punishment. He perfectly loves God and others, and assumes on himself the punishment that the breach required. We are free from condemnation not because the law no longer carries condemnation–in fact, it does–but we are free from condemnation because Jesus was condemned on our behalf.

The law and the punishments remain in full force, so I have a few options. I can either perfectly fulfill the law, and therefore avoid the punishment, or if I can't perfectly fulfill the law (which I can't), then I can assume the punishment myself. Since I can't perfectly fulfill the law, I can't please God. In fact, my very efforts to do so become hostile to God! So then, since I am a lawbreaker by nature, the still-valid punishment must be satisfied, and it will be satisfied either by myself or by a substitute. The good news of the Gospel is that Jesus is the substitute.

So then not only is the law valid, but the punishment is valid as well. For the Christian, however, the punishment has been taken by Jesus, so that we can confidently declare that no matter how much we break the law going forward, there is no condemnation for those of us who are in Christ Jesus. The law is still good and right! But we are not condemned when we fail, because of Jesus.

That message of freedom from condemnation not only applies to the biblical law, but to the internal and external law I mentioned. One author (Paul Zahl, I believe) referred to the internal and external law as the bastard children of the law. They are the natural outcome of attempting to define our lives, our righteousness, and our justification by our own efforts, and then taking those expectations and applying them to others, so that we also view their righteousness and justification through that lens. Freedom from condemnation takes those expectations and turns them on their head. They no longer define us. Our life now is defined by Jesus. Our law is defined by Jesus. The things that matter, the expectations of God, are defined by God himself. Even when we fall short of those expectations, we are not condemned; we cannot be separated from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus.

That is the perspective by which we measure both the internal law and the external law. In both cases, attempting to earn our "rightness" by fulfilling the law will ultimately lead to oppression. This is not to say that there are no good expectations for ourselves; we may expect that we will perform well at our job, for example. There is nothing wrong with that expectation, it is good and right. What the Christian understands is that they are no more righteous if they meet that expectation, just as they are no more condemned if they don't. Their identity is in Jesus. He defines the expectations that matter.

Freedom from condemnation means that we are free from accusation when we don't measure up to expectations of ourselves or others. As a perfectionist, the most freeing thought I can have is that I am still free even when I don't meet the expectations that I place on myself. I am not bound to that perfectionism. Not only do I not have to be perfect, but I don't have to worry about whether or not other people think I'm perfect either. I do not stand condemned anymore. Because Jesus accepts me and has paid my dues, it really doesn't matter much whether others think I am measuring up.

But perhaps even more importantly, however, is the second reality:

Freedom from condemnation means that we are able to disagree on whether or not an expectation is valid to begin with.

There is no doubt that Paul instructs the early Christians to certain standards: they will be hard working, for example. If you are lazy, you are not considered "needy"; you are considered "lazy". There are other expectations that he allows, but doesn't necessarily condone. Celebration of certain religious feasts, for example. It's not harmful, he would say, so long as you don't think you are earning your righteousness from it. If it helps you focus on Jesus and his righteousness, enjoy it! But since you earn no righteousness from it, you can't expect others to join you in your feasting. It's not a necessity; it's a false expectation.

False expectations abound. "All good parents feed their kids organic food." "All cool teenagers play sports." "All men make a lot of money." "Successful people drive brand new cars." "True Christians read their Bible an hour a day." And one my wife is particularly passionate about, not for her sake but for other moms who feel the pressure so powerfully, "All good moms have immaculate houses." Here's the thing about this expectations: some of them are just wrong and unbiblical ("Successful people drive brand new cars.") Others might work for you, but aren't binding on others (Buying only organic food or keeping an immaculate house). Freedom from condemnation means you are free to make the distinction between the expectations that matter, and those that don't. The key is remembering that if you can keep them, you aren't more justified, and if you can't, you're not more condemned.

You are totally justified, and never condemned, because of Jesus. This is the freedom of the Gospel.

Teasing & Grace

Our kids know that they aren't supposed to tease each other. They understand that if they do it, they are being disobedient. Nevertheless, the regularity with which they tease one another must border on legendary. Twin boys, age 6. A younger sister, also age 6. Three kids ten months apart, all of them in their teasing prime.

So there they are. Knowing that "obedience" and "behaving" is a positive quality that we would like to help them learn. And yet, battling daily with their internal desire to tease. On the way to school each day, it is nearly inevitable, except on those rare days when God is gracious to us, that at least two of the children will begin to tease one another. The third will be silent. We will remind. We may scold. Finally, we may yell. And when we are close to silencing the teasers, so that three children are once again in line with our expectations, the third will finally speak: "Daddy, I'm the only one behaving." He may as well add a "nanny nanny boo boo" for effect.

And thus, all three children descend into rebellion.

Someone said that God gives us children so that we will understand what it is like to create someone in our own image who denies our very existence. It isn't that they pretend we're not there; they just completely ignore our "sovereignty" over the situation as parents. They know the rules, they just have a really hard time keeping them. The internal push to do the wrong thing is too strong. It's almost worse than pretending we weren't there. They look us in the face and do exactly the opposite of what we asked them to do, and what they know they should do.

Of course it really is just a microcosm of our own rebellion. It's the reason that religion doesn't work. The internal push to do the wrong thing is too strong; the rules only highlight our desire and make it worse, like someone telling us "not to look" at something. Our first reaction, without even thinking, is to look. Had no one ever told us not to look, we may have never looked, or at very least, we wouldn't have known it was wrong to look. It's when we hear the law of not looking that our desire becomes evident and we do the one thing we aren't supposed to; we look. But the problem is deeper.

Even if we don't look, and we don't descend into obvious rebellion, we still end up in the wrong spot. We say, "See, I didn't look." But our heart (and our tone!) reveals what we really mean: "see, I knew I was better than all those lookers; all those rebels." It's a much more subtle form of rebellion; an implicit rebellion; a rebellion couched in righteousness. A rebellion that elevates our selves and denigrates others because, after all, we really are better than them.

Religion creates rule breakers and rule keepers and neither of them are righteous.

The only one righteous is the one who not only kept all of the law, but loved keeping it, not because anyone would notice, but simply because he delighted in God and delighted in keeping his ideals. There was no self-interest involved; only God-interest. He fulfilled the law not because he was a law-lover, but because he was a God-lover. He loved God fully, so he loved others fully. So love is the fulfillment of the law.

What does that mean for three kids who tease each other incessantly? I don't really know. But what I do know is that they need grace more than they need law, and I need grace more than I need another parenting manual. That doesn't mean I don't help them to behave, it doesn't mean I don't give them rules, and it doesn't mean that they don't have consequences. It just means that the first thing they get when they get to school is a hug and an "I love you", and that's the first thing they return to every day. And they get it regardless of whether or not they teased each other in the car.

The Trouble with Religion

“But one of the worst results of being a slave and being forced to do things is that when there is no one to force you any more you find you have almost lost the power of forcing yourself.”

— The Horse & His Boy, C.S. Lewis

Religion is a wicked taskmaster. It is a tyrant that tells you how you can be "good", how you can be "better", that your ultimate righteousness is just one step further ahead–and at the same time, your destruction only a step behind.

The worst part about religion, at least in the sense that the New Testament most often describes it, is that it teaches you how to be good and do good things. The religious leaders in Jesus day and the plethora of other religious teachers throughout early church history had a similar theme to their message: Yes, God loves you...but only if you obey. Consequently the adherents of the religious teaching would look good, do good things, help others, and serve God, but it was always out of fear. Fear that others would find them out, fear that they may not be as good as they had hoped, and ultimately, fear that God would stop loving them. The truth is that religion is a never-ending ladder that you just can't climb.

The Gospel frees us from the tyrant of the law, and it's taskmaster, religion. It turns the old teaching in it's head: God does not love us because we obey. We obey, because God already and always loves us. The Gospel story is the story of God's one-way love towards us, even when we didn't deserve it, couldn't obey, were running in the opposite direction, trying to displace God with our own "gods"...God loves us anyway. When we begin to really understand that reality, our obedience has nothing to do with fear that God might somehow stop loving us–why would he stop loving us now? He has always known who we really are–but rather is driven by the fact that he will never stop loving us! God loves us. The more we understand that love, the more we will obey.

Unfortunately, when people are set free from the driving whips of religion, they often find that they do not exactly know how to have the discipline of obedience. Their obedience in the past was driven so hard by external forces and people and perceptions and law that it never really took root in their heart of hearts; they never really learned how to obey. They just learned how to avoid getting the whip–and these are different things.

For some it happens when they go to college and find that once the taskmaster is no longer around, they no longer have to obey. This is not because of the Gospel; it is simply evidence of what we already know to be true: if our obedience was only the result of a fear of a negative consequence, then once the fear is removed, so is the obedience. 

But for others, the same phenomena is seen when they finally discover the Gospel. Sometimes, the freedom they begin to experience as they hear the truth leads them not to more obedience, but for a time, to what appears to be less obedience. Perhaps this is why the apostle Paul had to remind the early church not to take license with Grace. Just because you are saved totally, freely, and forever, does not mean that you go on sinning. Actually it will lead to the opposite. But for many people freed from the shackles of religion, there is a time when they realize that they don't actually know how to obey. They have to relearn, because they have to be retrained. Obedience is no longer the result of the whip; it's the result of a heart softened by love.

Religion is a wicked taskmaster because the law can never produce what it promises. In fact, it always results in the opposite. Press a person with religion, and for a time, they will appear to have improved. Stop pressing, and you'll find that they haven't gotten better, they've gotten worse. As soon as there is no one to force them to do something, they find they don't have the power to force themselves.

Only the Gospel ultimately leads to obedience, because the Gospel starts with the heart and transforms our very desires. We can't force ourselves to be better, but when our heart changes, we find that we don't have to force ourselves at all. It starts slow, eventually seems to come naturally, and one day, it will come perfectly.