Monday, June 18, 2012

freedom

My timeline with alcohol:

In 33 years, I have never seen my parents drink. There was never a drop of alcohol in our house and I was raised in a church with people of similar conviction. Here in Northern Indiana, certain practices are associated with “sinners.” Michiana bars reflect this -- they’re as trashy as they come. Believers assuming the freedom to partake often do so conspicuously in a private residence: while recognizing that their behavior is considered sinful by the general public, they openly test the waters to see how their brethren might respond to their "rebellion," always ready and willing to defend themselves. I find this behavior silly and childish.

I abstained from drinking through college. In the tradition of the Mennonite/Amish/Anabaptist conservatism surrounding us, Bethel College has students sign a covenant upon admission that discards this right. Unlike many students, I held to the covenant through school session and summer. It wasn’t that I gave a lick whether a 21 or 22-year-old student drinks a glass of beer; I determined that the integrity of my word was worth something greater. Were Bethel’s expectations an issue for me, I could have attended one of a million other schools.

[This is my general attitude concerning chosen authority. If you have an issue submitting to authority, you need a new authority or a changed heart. Perhaps you need both. You have no right to complain about poor or inconvenient decisions made by an authority whom you have chosen, particularly if you must neutralize your complaint with a defense of your willingness to submit. If your complaint is valid and refuses to be addressed, leave. If your complaint is not meaningful enough to leave, shut your mouth. Tangent complete.]

A couple friends from my graduating class shared my first drink with me: a Killian’s Irish Red on the Monday following our commencement. Having never made a practice of drinking or seeing people drink, I limited my experience to a glass or two over the next five years. I moved to Missouri on Labor Day of 2006 -- the native attitude towards alcohol couldn’t have been further from my homeland’s.

Having never held a strong conviction against the moderate consumption of alcohol and having never exposed myself to the sin of drunkenness, I regularly shared a happy hour pint with my unbelieving co-workers. Since returning to Indiana 2 1/2 years ago, this freedom has returned to prolonged periods of abstinence. Some might wonder why. Am I afraid of being seen? Am I concerned with what my friends may think of me? Would it be a sin to drink in one location as opposed to another?
Now about food sacrificed to idols: We know that “We all possess knowledge.” But knowledge puffs up while love builds up. Those who think they know something do not yet know as they ought to know. But whoever loves God is known by God.

So then, about eating food sacrificed to idols: We know that “An idol is nothing at all in the world” and that “There is no God but one.” For even if there are so-called gods, whether in heaven or on earth (as indeed there are many “gods” and many “lords”), yet for us there is but one God, the Father, from whom all things came and for whom we live; and there is but one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom all things came and through whom we live.

But not everyone possesses this knowledge. Some people are still so accustomed to idols that when they eat sacrificial food they think of it as having been sacrificed to a god, and since their conscience is weak, it is defiled. But food does not bring us near to God; we are no worse if we do not eat, and no better if we do.

Be careful, however, that the exercise of your rights does not become a stumbling block to the weak. For if someone with a weak conscience sees you, with all your knowledge, eating in an idol’s temple, won’t that person be emboldened to eat what is sacrificed to idols? So this weak brother or sister, for whom Christ died, is destroyed by your knowledge. When you sin against them in this way and wound their weak conscience, you sin against Christ. Therefore, if what I eat causes my brother or sister to fall into sin, I will never eat meat again, so that I will not cause them to fall. (1 Cor. 8)
Those who know me recognize that I'm not too concerned with others' perceptions of me. I live in such a way as to have a clear conscience before God -- in this way, many of my behaviors may seem less conservative than my Christian friends while others are more restrictive. If I drink, work on Sunday, or date a younger woman, I'm confident that loved ones recognize me as a person of integrity and of pure motivation. When other Christians cringe on my behalf out of concern for how I might be perceived by others within my culture, I tell them to worry about themselves.

That said, when it comes to physical things, I partake in knowledge while abstaining by love and conviction. It is by knowing God (and secondly knowing myself) that I determine what freedoms are available to me. It would be unrighteous and arrogant of me to justify my freedom in opposition to your conviction. For what is an earthly freedom to me on the day of judgment? If I abstain from alcohol because of what others may perceive, I do so out of fear or shame. However, should I abstain for the sake of my brother or sister, I demonstrate love through the dismissal of my freedom.

I think it's the church's knee-jerk reaction to justify itself when confronted with issues of freedom. We want to demonstrate that God has privileged us to drink beer, eat bacon, cover (or uncover) our heads, share a frontal hug, make dinner on Sunday, or allow a woman to speak in church. Paul's contemporaries may have stumbled over sacrificed food and circumcision, but the principle is the same. There is no greater privilege than to share in the crown of Christ's glory with fellow believers, and no freedom is worth disunity on account of well-reasoned justification. I pray that if any freedom causes a brother or sister to stumble, even if exercised in clear conscience, I might approach with the grace of releasing that freedom.

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