The following was written over time, edited for brevity for blog purposes. It's raw; from my heart. Please no ugly comments.
I need to tell my journey to freedom from legalism. It is a sin and a lie that has had me bound for far too long. I am typing this as my story unfolds. Parts are from my journal, and parts are my thoughts and explanatory notes. I'm writing this now – before the freedom comes – because I know that once I'm on the other side, writing it out won't be as easy or necessary, but I write this now, believing that I am, indeed, on the journey to freedom, and that God will prove Himself faithful to me.
In January, 2009, I was preparing for Italy. I could drink alcohol there if I chose to. My family was not thrilled with this idea, and made it plain that doing so was wrong. I did choose not to drink while in Italy, but when I returned we talked even more about it, and what my plans were for my twenty-first birthday the following January. Mom and Dad were so adamant about not going to bars, not having alcohol, and not clubbing. Their line is, “Don't do it. God says not to. It's wrong.” God says don't get drunk (Ephesians 5:18). He says to not be a stumbling block to other Christians (1 Corinthians 8:9). He wants us to take every opportunity to show Christ to unbelievers (Colossians 4:5).
That's not the only issue that caused me to question and to doubt, although it plays the biggest part, and was the catalyst in the whole process.
And now let me expand this circle of my family to Christians in general. Christians I come in contact with everyday, and the ones I've grown up watching. There are just so many Christians who make Christ unattractive: The woman in the salon pushing Jesus down my throat even though she knew I was already a Christian; another client being loud and obnoxious about her religious beliefs to the point of making another stylist leave the room; and so many Christians who say one thing and look so well put together, but hide a second identity. And then there's the people I've grown up watching. My parents come to mind first. Although they certainly know the Bible, and have great Godly answers, we never talk about our personal relationships with Jesus Christ. I think I've heard how each of them were saved, but I have never heard their spiritual journey; their weaknesses and strengths; or the things God has taught them or places where He has delivered or been faithful. And then there's the Bible study leaders that rocked my senior year for the worse. As they did things out of order, blew the whole situation into a big deal, and sat me down for a meeting in order to tell me to not want to pursue the deeper things of God – that the shallow talk and a prayer was enough . . . they hurt me, and they marred my view of the Christian life.
I need to tell my journey to freedom from legalism. It is a sin and a lie that has had me bound for far too long. I am typing this as my story unfolds. Parts are from my journal, and parts are my thoughts and explanatory notes. I'm writing this now – before the freedom comes – because I know that once I'm on the other side, writing it out won't be as easy or necessary, but I write this now, believing that I am, indeed, on the journey to freedom, and that God will prove Himself faithful to me.
In January, 2009, I was preparing for Italy. I could drink alcohol there if I chose to. My family was not thrilled with this idea, and made it plain that doing so was wrong. I did choose not to drink while in Italy, but when I returned we talked even more about it, and what my plans were for my twenty-first birthday the following January. Mom and Dad were so adamant about not going to bars, not having alcohol, and not clubbing. Their line is, “Don't do it. God says not to. It's wrong.” God says don't get drunk (Ephesians 5:18). He says to not be a stumbling block to other Christians (1 Corinthians 8:9). He wants us to take every opportunity to show Christ to unbelievers (Colossians 4:5).
That's not the only issue that caused me to question and to doubt, although it plays the biggest part, and was the catalyst in the whole process.
And now let me expand this circle of my family to Christians in general. Christians I come in contact with everyday, and the ones I've grown up watching. There are just so many Christians who make Christ unattractive: The woman in the salon pushing Jesus down my throat even though she knew I was already a Christian; another client being loud and obnoxious about her religious beliefs to the point of making another stylist leave the room; and so many Christians who say one thing and look so well put together, but hide a second identity. And then there's the people I've grown up watching. My parents come to mind first. Although they certainly know the Bible, and have great Godly answers, we never talk about our personal relationships with Jesus Christ. I think I've heard how each of them were saved, but I have never heard their spiritual journey; their weaknesses and strengths; or the things God has taught them or places where He has delivered or been faithful. And then there's the Bible study leaders that rocked my senior year for the worse. As they did things out of order, blew the whole situation into a big deal, and sat me down for a meeting in order to tell me to not want to pursue the deeper things of God – that the shallow talk and a prayer was enough . . . they hurt me, and they marred my view of the Christian life.
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All of this was being mulled over in my mind when I went to Ocean City for an evangelism trip in June. All the partying and the drinking on the boardwalk seemed so attractive. Rebellion, yes. Somehow needing to know for myself how empty it all is. I wrote this in Ocean City:
I read Psalm 63 to 65. I love the first verses of Psalm 63. It's so pure. A heart cry. Praises in the desert.
I want that. I long for that . . . for intense relationship without religion and legalism . . . for something rich . . . for something pure . . . something deep . . . something mysterious . . . something so true it pierces my soul. But this must be sought after and pursued. I haven't missed the first verse - “earnestly I seek You.” In earnest. Energy. And all along this journey – this adventure – I'm to remember His faithfulness; glorify, and praise His name. And then verse five, “My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods; . . .” Satisfaction. Rich satisfaction.
I read Psalm 63 to 65. I love the first verses of Psalm 63. It's so pure. A heart cry. Praises in the desert.
I want that. I long for that . . . for intense relationship without religion and legalism . . . for something rich . . . for something pure . . . something deep . . . something mysterious . . . something so true it pierces my soul. But this must be sought after and pursued. I haven't missed the first verse - “earnestly I seek You.” In earnest. Energy. And all along this journey – this adventure – I'm to remember His faithfulness; glorify, and praise His name. And then verse five, “My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods; . . .” Satisfaction. Rich satisfaction.
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And yet, with all this going on, I know what I believe. I sat on the beach just days after the evangelism trip with the barn girls and laid out plainly what I believe about absolute Truth, what I believe about God and Jesus Christ. What I believe will happen when I die. What stand I take on sex outside of marriage, gay rights, and abortion. It was so good to voice it.
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In an email later that summer I took pieces of journal entries, and wrote:
I'm done with being religious, with being spiritual, and with being “Christian.” I'm done with legalism, with do's and do not's, and with rules. I'm done with obligation and duty.
I'm either done with this Jesus thing . . . the praying, the Bible reading, the church going, or it's going to need to be so real and so true that He's my first desire.
And that IS what I want. I don't want to sever that relationship with my Shepherd. I DO want to seek Him, and follow Him, and serve Him.
I feel like such a rebel writing this. My life looks so good . . . it's so tidy and pretty. I go to church, I'm a part of a Bible study, I co-lead small group, and I have ministry with unsaved friends and co-workers.
Basically, my spiritual life is at the lowest point of my life up to now. It's bad, and I know it. I went out to dinner with a friend on Monday night, and hadn't planned to tell her anything, but it came out anyway. She asked me to describe my relationship with Jesus right now. I couldn't give her a straightforward answer. It's everyday – I still read my Bible and I still pray – but that's about it. I don't KNOW Christ right now. I'm going through the motions because that's what I've been taught I'm suppose to do. The problem is, I haven't seen a whole lot of on fire, passionate Christians growing up, and we never talked about our own personal journeys at home. . . .
I don't know how to get out of this place. What do I do differently?
God and I had a conversation on the way home from Bible study. I didn't choose God; He chose me first. When I gave Him my life, it wasn't just for the good days. Like the sunrise and sunset even behind raindrops and thunderclouds, God is faithful. Will I not be faithful too?
I want freedom. I don't know how to get there. I don't know what to do about it.
But I want it. I desperately want it.
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I started memorizing The 10 commandments (an unusual pick when legalism and rules is what's tripping your feet).
Exodus 20:1
And- in addition to. Remember all the other things God has spoken and God has done.
God- yes, Creator, Maker, Lover, and Father is the one speaking.
Spoke- He has a voice; He speaks; Do I hear Him?
All These Words- the 10 commandments. What I see as “legalism.”
Exodus 20:2
I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery.
Deliverance. Set free. Faithfulness.
“I am” - Goes back to the burning bush . . . thinking back and remembering His faithfulness.
“Egypt . . . the land of slavery” - Bondage. Sin. Lies.
“Brought you out” - Freedom. Deliverance. Victory.
Exodus 20:3
You shall have no other gods before Me.
A dime is a small thing, but held out to the horizon, it can cover the sun. In the same way, things in my life can block out and come before God.
. . . and on till verse 17.
These verses slowly sunk into my heart. God loves me. He gives commands to obey. He is Deliverer. He keeps His promises.
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A prayer I wrote at the office a month later:
Father,
I'm tired.
I'm confused.
I feel drained, but don't know the reason.
I'm frustrated.
I don't know what direction to focus.
Where do I draw the line? Where is the end of discipline, and the beginning of legalism? And where is the end of legalism and the beginning of discipline?
Could it be that I'm so drained; so confused; so lost and don't know where to head next because I never listen?
What lies am I believing? What is Your Truth in those areas? What do I need to do about it? What good is it to know all the right answers when my relationship with You is no longer a journey, or an adventure, or a romance?
I need to need You. To long for You. When did I lose that? Be my first desire. Grow me. Soften me. Teach me. Pierce me. Even wreck me.
“Restore to me the joy of Your salvation, and grant me a willing spirit to sustain me.”
I want freedom. I want to know You again as Master and Dictator, and Lover and Friend. How?
I feel like there's so much of me to fix. So many things I should do. But isn't this suppose to be about You instead of my own efforts? Where is the balance to that?
Thank You for listening to my questions, my skepticism, and my doubt. Teach me. Open my heart to listen. . . .
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From my journal:
In this journey to freedom from legalism, I know I need to forgive (names of people who marred my view of Christianity). I thought I would wait till I was on the other side of all this before I did that, but God has put it on my heart to forgive, and that there won't be freedom before that. I'm going to send them letters explaining myself. Ugh. Being so vulnerable is hard.
Father,
Give me Your forgiveness. I want to forgive . . . .
I know that doesn't mean this story is over. I know the emotion and the anger and the hurt will re-appear – maybe even daily at first. I resolve with Your strength to continue in forgiveness toward them. . . . .
Since mailing the letters, I've made the choice to continue to forgive often, but it's getting easier now to let forgiveness swallow my heart instead of anger, hurt, irritation, or dropping a brick wall in front of me.
Where is the line between legalism and discipline? Perhaps legalism is when I do something religious because “it's the right thing to do” and discipline is when I do something religious because I want to seek God.
If I would take my focus off of rules, off of legalism, off of books and studies, off of other Christians, and put my focus on Christ, maybe then these questions would be answered . . . or maybe they wouldn't need an answer. What has my attention? Christians and their trappings? Or Christ?
It's not always the latter.
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From my journal in the fall:
There is freedom in obedience.
People say I'm crazy or extreme or even legalistic.
I read 1 Corinthians 11, but this time I paused. Something grabbed a hold of my heart and wouldn't let me move on. Head covering.
I choose to cover my head – not all the time for fear that it become legalistic, but in worship and prayer, or Bible study, church, and small group. I wear one around the house some, and occasionally when I go out, running errands. I cover my head in obedience to this command; and I cover in modesty, in respect, in honor, in submission, and for spiritual covering and protection as a symbol. It's an outward, physical reminder of where my heart should be, and what my role is.
It's so refreshing on this journey to see a command, and obey it even though it's something I've never been taught, and I'm ridiculed for following it.
Freedom to obey God . . . because I love Him.
“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” -Psalm 119:32
-To Be Continued-
Read Part 1 Here
Read Part 2 Here
Read Part 3 Here
There is freedom in obedience.
People say I'm crazy or extreme or even legalistic.
I read 1 Corinthians 11, but this time I paused. Something grabbed a hold of my heart and wouldn't let me move on. Head covering.
I choose to cover my head – not all the time for fear that it become legalistic, but in worship and prayer, or Bible study, church, and small group. I wear one around the house some, and occasionally when I go out, running errands. I cover my head in obedience to this command; and I cover in modesty, in respect, in honor, in submission, and for spiritual covering and protection as a symbol. It's an outward, physical reminder of where my heart should be, and what my role is.
It's so refreshing on this journey to see a command, and obey it even though it's something I've never been taught, and I'm ridiculed for following it.
Freedom to obey God . . . because I love Him.
“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” -Psalm 119:32
-To Be Continued-
Read Part 1 Here
Read Part 2 Here
Read Part 3 Here
love this! i know a lot of how you feel.. i'm kind of in that place now, where my Christianity has become "routine" - something I must do instead of something I really want to do.
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