Feelings and Freedom

I'm 26 today.  There's that.

I guess I'll spend my birthday post this year riffing about freedom.

People misunderstand the premise.  Most folks who talk about personal freedoms and the importance of individuality, tolerance, etc all imply a faulty premise, and that is that freedom is the right to do anything I want.  Disney's OS, "follow your heart," has a lot of resonance with a culture that says life is what you make it and appeals to no higher authority than the self.

Shocker: that line of thinking is fundamentally flawed.

Thankfully, the Word of God sheds illumination to this point.  The Apostle Peter, in his second epistle, records the following concerning false teachers who peddle feelings-based religion:

These are waterless springs and mists driven by a storm...  for, speaking loud boasts of folly, they entice by sensual passions of the flesh those who are barely escaping from those who live in error.  They promise them freedom, but they themselves are slaves of corruption.  For whatever overcomes a person, to that he is enslaved. (2 Pet 2.17-19)

The lie that false prophets always push is that their method brings true freedom.  Their cleanse diet, their Hail Mary's, their Kool Aid, their new spin on an old concept.  But the reality is, no matter the gift-wrapped pill they offer, it is still based on self-servitude.  In other words, I do something to make me feel spiritually heightened.  The problem therefore is not with the desire to assuage guilt or baggage, but with the insatiable need to do something to feel something.

That's the freeing nature of the gospel -- not that we no longer have to feel or that we shouldn't want to feel things, but that we no longer have to feel things as a basis for a sense of spiritual wellness.  What overcomes me is no longer my overwhelming desires -- "I must eat," "I must find love" -- but the love, grace, mercy, and motivation of Jesus Christ.

My doing anything is a passionate response to grace, not a desperate quest for it.

Faith in Jesus enables me to be truly free.  While I'm not free in the popular definition (able to do whatever I want with no consequences), I am truly free because I no longer have to do what my heart tells me to.  In other words, I am no loner a slave to corruption, or whatever "overcomes" me.  If I must do what "feels right" and navigate my life by a sensation of "rightness," by following my heart, -- which may or may not but probably will lead me into self-destructive tendencies -- then I'm merely a slave to corruption: my own passions.  I'm a slave to what has overcome me.

Through Christ, that's no longer the case.

Before our Savior plucks us from the path of destruction, we can't help but blindly follow our emotions.  Relationships are about who makes us feel good.  College and career choices are about what feels right and what I want for my life.  Beliefs are about what makes me feel wise and enlightened.

By this mode of operation, we must do to feel.

Freedom through Christ, however, brings stability.  Righteousness through faith in Him doesn't negate my feelings, but it enables me to see through them.  It enables me to navigate by truth and certainty -- as opposed to following a course that shifts on a whim.

True freedom is liberation from sensation.  Not a denial of or an aversion to feelings and emotions (that's just monastic, self-abasing asceticism), but the subjugation of them.  God never said "Don't feel;" He said, "Don't be a slave to feeling."  In other words, as a follower of Christ, I don't have to "feel" something to know it's right.  I don't have to stumble into wanton self-indulgence because I was blindly following the helter-skelter roller-coaster of my desires.  And in the process of subjugating my feelings to the Truth of God's Word, I can begin to realign my sinful heart, bringing my desires and emotions and pleasures into the God-given parameters of holiness.

Those whom the Son frees are free indeed (John 8.36) -- from desire and from sin.  But freedom from these things is also freedom to responsibility.  Let those who call themselves followers of Christ abide in Him in this way.

Nashville Rescue Mission, 2015

This past week, Tara and I had the tremendous opportunity to take a team of eight high school students down to Nashville, Tennessee to work in the city's Rescue Mission, an organization devoted to serving and rescuing the homeless.  There's a lot I could write about in this post -- God's incredible provision, the wonderful team of Christian musicians who housed us for the week, or my infatuation with Spaceteam -- but I want to instead remember the names of five men who touched us.

All smiles and encouragement, Quinton ("Q") was perhaps the brightest point of my week.  A man who loved the Lord, did all that was requested of him without hesitation, and spoke earnestly of God's grace in his life, Quinton was a humble and earnest example of what grace can do in penitent hearts.

A young man who bared his heart to me, Brit is still looking at an uphill climb as he struggles to overcome his addictions.  However, I believe that God is glorified when we choose to struggle against our sin, out of a desire to surrender all for holiness, instead of succumbing to it.  Brit's testimony was a powerful reminder that all sin is a type of addiction, and addiction to self is perhaps the most difficult to overcome.

Bryant, the volunteer services coordinator at the Nashville Rescue Mission, was our guide for the week.  He is a graduate of the Mission's program with a powerful testimony of his own, and is now thoroughly invested in working to assist the homeless and addicts who walk through the doors of the Mission on a daily basis.

Soft-spoken and unassuming, Will is a hard worker who humbly asked us to keep praying for his submission to the Lord's will.  He was a joy to work and converse with.  I'm reminded that he loves his wife and child, both of whom support him in his decision to overcome the addictions in his life.

Of all the men we worked alongside, George weighs perhaps the heaviest on my heart, simply because he has recently re-joined the Mission's program and still seems to have one foot in the world. Quick to admit his mistakes, George was impressed by our group and spoke openly about his weaknesses and failures, but still seems like he needs to take more bold steps of faith in order to overcome them.  I trust that the Spirit will lead him to a deeper understanding of the Truth!

God has been merciful to all these men.  Each was on a path of self-destruction, but our Father snatched each of them back and placed them on a different trajectory.  Their stories are proof of the fact that no sin is too engrained to overcome through Christ's power.

To Him be the glory!

In Memoriam

Out of deep respect for my humble grandmother, I'll keep this short.

Florence Carlton, my father's mother, passed away early in the morning on 23 July, 2015, after suffering a stroke on 16 May that exacerbated pre-existing conditions and left her bed-ridden.  She was eighty-four years old, born 3 April 1931, and is now survived by just one of her six siblings.

Today, we buried her body and commemorated her life as family.  I'm reminded of the fact that human beings were not designed to cope with grief: sorrow is just the body's physiological response to the abhorrent reality of death.  We don't know what to do with the pain, and so we weep.  However, while we, on this side of the curtain, struggle to accept the passing of our loved one, she -- on the other -- no longer must linger in her fragile shell.  In the arms of our Savior, she now finds true peace and healing and rest.

I have so many snapshot memories of Gram.  Looking through all of our old photographs this past week has brought even more to the surface.

Gram was a lover of music, cooking, crafting, and puzzles.  She was an encourager and a doer.  She loved animals -- especially little dogs.  She was a survivor, to which the numerous tragedies of her life attest.  She cared deeply for each of her grandchildren.  I loved sharing sideways smiles with her.

If I had to pin one adjective on her, though, it would be the fact that she was a giver.  Whether she was making Sunday dinner for our family, trying to force a few dollars into my hand as a thank-you for carrying in her groceries, or just listening to me talk about life (or telling me stories from hers), she was always concerned that we were fed, cared for, and appreciated.

Gram lived upstairs from me most of my life, in the apartment above my parents' house.  So I guess I can say that she's just "upstairs" once again.

I love you and miss you, Gram.  I look forward to climbing that staircase myself one day to join you.