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I know the topic is all a controversy, so I’m going to set this up as only a series of thoughts and questions to which you can give agreeing answers or disagreements.
Do we, as humans, have the freedom to will? Do we experience a free will?
Firstly, no. I cannot ever, at any time, in any way, do absolutely anything that I want to do with absolute freedom. I cannot, currently, fly without the aide of a contraption. Nor can I swim to the bottom of the sea without air or protection. I cannot go to the moon. I cannot, tomorrow, buy a million dollar home and four luxury cars, and then stuff my face with the finest food. My will is constrained. My will is limited. Last I checked, that means my will is not “free.” I believe there is only one being in the universe who is so free, he can do absolutely anything he wills to do at any time. This prerogative is God’s alone.
Secondly, no. My will is the slave of logic and scientific reality. Especially in our post-enlightenment world, we do what we empirically discover is best and correct. Why do we not jump off cliffs? Science and experience teach us not to. Why do we vaccinate our children? Medicine and experts tells us we must. Why do we not drink brown water? For many, many intelligent reasons. Why do I not consume a gallon of vodka within the course of one hour? Because at 0.4% Blood Alcohol Content the common human behavior is death. In thousands of ways we never think about, we will only what we believe is logically sensible.
Thirdly, no. I cannot murder freely. I cannot steal freely. I cannot embezzle freely. I cannot kidnap freely. I cannot speed freely. Since I cannot commit crimes at will, my will is therefore constrained by the rules and stipulations of a country. In a similar way, my will is in many ways conformed to the standards of my immediate cultural situation – I do not wear loin cloths, I cannot roam naked, I do not drink at church functions (that only happens in Wales), I cannot leave a $50 bill on a street corner and expect it to be there the next day, I cannot go two weeks without brushing my teeth, I seem to believe I cannot survive without working for a livable wage. Why do I wear pants and not skirts? Because many social standards restrict my wardrobe choices. My will is, in many complicated ways, limited by government and culture.
Fourthly, no. My will is always already a slave to my desires. I do as I feel and wish. I am driven by the whims of my cravings. We humans have promiscuous sex because our will is so easily duped by hormones. We become angry and throw hissy fits like children because our emotions become inflamed. We’re reticent to share with others when we would have to sacrifice some plush comforts to do so. Our will is constrained to our desires. On the contrary, someone objects saying we often reject our own lusts and act contrary to desire. In many instances, people resist their own lusts. I would say this only happens when the desire to do “right” overwhelms the desire to do “wrong.” One man desires a woman and says, “I want to sleep with her,” yet, in his conscience, he desires fidelity even more than sexual gratification and therefore does not act contrary to what he believes is moral. Either way, if he sleeps with the woman or not, his will in doing so conforms to the stronger desire of the moment.
In summary: all our choices are driven by the kinds of forces I’ve mentioned above (and many more). We are subjects of our countries, subjects of logic, subjects of our own desires. So, in what way is our will free?
By Jean Sibelius
Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change, He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.
Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
To guide the future, as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
His voice Who ruled them while He dwelt below.
Be still, my soul: when dearest friends depart,
And all is darkened in the vale of tears,
Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe thy sorrow and thy fears.
Be still, my soul: thy Jesus can repay
From His own fullness all He takes away.
Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord.
When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past
All safe and blessèd we shall meet at last.
Be still, my soul: begin the song of praise
On earth, believing, to Thy Lord on high;
Acknowledge Him in all thy words and ways,
So shall He view thee with a well pleased eye.
Be still, my soul: the Sun of life divine
Through passing clouds shall but more brightly shine.
How, and to what extent, must I forgive someone who has offended me? What does it mean to forgive? Answering these questions would be so much easier if the scriptures had only said, “forgive one another” because then we could go forth and define forgiveness by our own whims – Forgive yet punish? Forgive yet hate? Forgive and forget? Forgive but don’t forget? Forgive this but not that?The scriptures end this debate with perhaps the most weighted definition of “forgiveness” we can find.
Ephesians 4:32 Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.
To forgive “just as” God forgave is a tall order – so when we sit down and begin a discussion on forgiveness and consider what forgiveness must look like, we use Christ upon the cross as our template. Can you even imagine that? We are called to forgive, and forgiveness is standardized as Christ hanging on the cross.
Here is what that caliber of forgiveness looks like:
This is a completely sacrificial forgiveness – “HE was pierced for our transgressions, HE was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon HIM, and by HIS wounds we are healed” (Is 53:5) Please note that the one who forgives suffers the greatest pain. In order to forgive me, God himself experienced a pain in my place I will never feel. Not only did he feel the pain of my offences, he felt the pain of the punishment for those offences. Am I willingly be wounded and hurt in order to forgive someone who’s wronged me? Would I be willing to let my pride suffer some painful loss?
A selfless forgiveness – Christ humbled himself, even to death on a cross. Check out this passage: “Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death—even death on a cross!” The Creator humbled himself to become like the created – and not simply like the created, he humbled himself to be murdered by the created. If the ruler of the universe can condescend from heaven to earth to the cross in order to forgive me then I must be willing condescend at least to my fellow man
Forgiving those who don’t deserve it. “While we were STILL sinners, Christ forgave us” (Rom 5:8 ) In fact, within that same passage Paul writes that Christ’s forgiveness had been extended to us while we were the enemies of God. Will I only forgive those who “deserve” it? Has someone not repented; have they not changed; do they persist firmly in their offences towards me; do they continue them repeatedly; if they do all these things do they deserve my forgiveness? Well I would simply ask: have I repented from my sins; have I changed; do I persist in my offences towards God; do I continue them repeatedly; and yet, do I expect God’s forgiveness? Inherent within the very definition of God’s gracious forgiveness is the fact that NO ONE DESERVES IT. No one can deserve it; the moment they do it ceases to be grace. So there is our standard – forgive just as in Christ God forgave me, even when I didn’t deserve it – especially when I didn’t deserve it.
A willingness to overlook offence. When Christ hung on the cross he said, “Forgive them, they know not what they do.” Often, when we have these conversations of forgiveness, we would like to use the opportunity to vent every detail of offence – we would like to pound the person under a barrage of accusation until every tiny matter is addressed, until we’ve fully established the extent of their guilt to the smallest degree. We don’t say, “I will forgive them, even though they know not what they’ve done.” No, we say, “I’ll forgive them once they’ve fully acknowledged all they’ve done.” How many times do we offend God without any acknowledgement of having done so? And how often does he still forgive us? How ever often he forgives, so must we forgive.
The forgiveness must be whole: The forgiveness is not for some kinds of offences and not for others. Forgiveness covers all. Hebrews 9:26 “…[Christ] has appeared once for all at the end of the ages to do away with sin by the sacrifice of himself.” Also 1 Peter 3:18 ”For Christ died for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring you to God.” All sins forgiven in one moment – there is no offense too great, and none too small – all are forgiven.
A readiness to forgive the worst kinds of wrongs. Has anyone ever offended me to the immeasurable extent that I have personally offended God? What about Christ on the cross? Has anyone whipped me unjustly? Has anyone ripped the skin from off my back? Has anyone mocked as I stood mutilated, shamed, and naked in the assembly? Has anyone nailed my hands to a plank of wood or turned their face away in the midst of this suffering? Christ forgave even these offences (and many more); will we not forgive others for much less?
Forgiving with compassion and kindness. Note how Paul integrates compassion, kindness, and forgiveness in the verse: “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” When Christ hung on the cross there was not a single inclination of wrath, or vengeance, or hatred in his heart – there was only unconditional compassion, kindness, and concern for the object of his forgiveness. When we forgive, we must omit our feelings of anger, hatred, wrath, and revenge. Until we can say, “I hope they are well,” we have not understood or practiced the kind of forgiveness God has given us.
A willful forgiveness. “Not my will but yours be done.” I understand that every emotion in you might be screaming against it – I know that forgiveness, compassion, concern, and kindness are the last feelings we trend towards when wounded. I know also that the will is often the slave to feelings – we DO as we FEEL. To forgive just as Christ forgave is to take control of the will, conforming it to a higher will despite emotions. Just before Christ hung on the cross, as he knelt sweating blood in the garden, stressed and anxious, he said “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.” He said, “not MY will” but “YOUR will.” To go to the cross for the forgiveness of sins, Christ had to reject his own desires, emotions, and will. To forgive in such a manner we must deny our own emotions, the feelings that drive us against forgiveness – we must willfully choose to forgive just as IN CHRIST God forgave us. When someone’s offences have been unduly cruel, to forgive must be an act of the will, not the emotions.
This is what it means to forgive “each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.”
Anyone familiar with this guy?
This is a photograph of Ernest Hemingway, an American author most known for his minimalist style and his contributions to what we call “Modernist Fiction.”
He had a knack for limiting his words – I think he hated adjectives. His slim novels and short short stories would give you what he called the tip of the ice-berg; just a few words from which you, the reader, had to decipher all that was under the surface.
Below is his shortest story, a story in six words. He said it was his best work – what do you think?
“For sale: baby shoes, never used.”
…
Hey everyone,
This is my favorite shoot from the summer. Let me know what you think!
What I wrote last week about God’s affection for the lost sheep is one of the most encouraging things God has ever taught me. Because of that truth I no longer feel I need to guilt myself in the shadows of my sinful past. Because of God’s ready acceptance I can instead pursue repentance as an alternative to grief, knowing I am forgiven by a graceful God.
There is one other truth I’d like to address, and this one acts as a corollary to what I wrote last week:
Sin is always worse than I think it is. No matter how wretched I imagine it to be, my sin-warped imagination will always fall short in its perception of the “sinfulness of sin.” (Heb 3:12)
I alluded to a parable in the previous blog, and in order to properly assess the “sinfulness of sin,” as well as the importance of an appropriate view of sin, I think the parable of the Pharisee and Tax Collector is most appropriate.
Luke 18:9-14 To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else, Jesus told this parable: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood up and prayed about himself: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’
“But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’
“I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.”
Notice to whom he is speaking: those who were “confident in their own righteousness,” those who “looked down on everybody else” – are you familiar with this type of crowd? To be honest, I’m embarrassed by how frequently I’m personally among the ranks, if not the leader, of this crowd.
So please note, I’m writing this not to be mean to you if you are arrogant – I am writing this to plea with you. Change for your own good! In our arrogance, not only are we in an extremely dangerous situation, we’re entirely unaware of our plight. I know both intimately and shamefully how easily pride blinds the proud person of its own existence.
So – two men go up to pray. One is oblivious to the seriousness of his sin. He’s lived a life of mild sins, or perhaps in his own mind, no sins, and because of this he stands complacent before a holy God, comforted while he measures his goodness against the sins of others. Yet, notice what Jesus said when this man went home: he wasn’t justified. Last I checked, if you aren’t justified, you aren’t saved. That’s a BIG problem, so my advice (and my advice constantly to myself): if you see these kinds of attitudes and behaviors in your own life, dispose of them immediately.
Complacency over sin is no small matter; it’s only a matter of your salvation.
Aside from the Pharisee, a Tax Collector stood at a distance, humbled, broken, beating his chest. He could not even look up to God. Can you imagine the reverence? The respect? The attitude of worship? The longing to be forgiven? This man is quick to the point, “God have mercy on me, a sinner.”
Rare is the moment of prayer that competes with this fervency. Remember Isaiah in Isaiah 6 – I aspire to be like this man. I wish I could have the profound humility, reverence, and passion that he emotes when he prays to God.
To do so, I’m going to have to start being really honest with God about my sin.
Think of the Apostles, the men so close to Christ – Matthew, in every personal reference he made to himself, reminds us he is the “tax collector.” Mark, the disciple of Peter, who most probably drew all his information from Peter, omits almost everything from the story that brings honor to Peter; his best lines are missing; there is no “You are the rock upon which I will build my church”; then look at the walking on the water scene – in Mark it’s almost as if Peter wasn’t even there. Then check John; in the gospel of John, anytime the author needs to refer to his own character he deflects all attention towards Jesus, writing “the one whom Jesus loved.” Paul, do I even need to say it, he thought he was the chief of sinners, the least of all God’s people, the wretch. These men were very well acquainted with their own shortcomings; you have to do that when walking with God.
So do we want to worship? Then we must learn to appreciate the seriousness of sin. Do we want to go home justified? Learn to appreciate the seriousness of sin in the presence of God’s holiness.
Only when we discard the Pharisee’s view of sin and then pick up the tax collector’s, can we truly appreciate and enjoy the greatness and grace of God.
