Confession

"A true spiritual leader makes it safe for you to show yourself..." (R. Rohr).

The Anabaptist tradition of my upbringing instilled within me an appreciation for a doctrine called "The Priesthood of All Believers" which is an idea that we need no mediator between ourselves and God except Christ. (That's just part of the doctrine, really.) I was taught that I didn't need a priest to go to God and find forgiveness because that's what Jesus does. I wonder, though, how much of this belief gets translated into idealistic individualism that says, "I don't need a priest, and I also don't need you."

We do need each other.

By and large, there is a rejection of "confession" as a notion and as a practice among Protestant traditions, and many believers particularly reject confession as practiced by our Catholic brothers and sisters. Even within the Catholic community, the confessional is gradually falling out of use. I think the absence of confession is leaving a gaping hole in the spiritual health of the church. Let me explain.

Despite the mandate of scripture that we should confess our sins, many of us continue to keep our sin and struggles well tucked away from all others, wrestling with them quietly and giving those things leverage over our lives. I like what James wrote in chapter 5 verse 16 in the context of prayer and healing: "Therefore, confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed." The "each other" part is very significant here. If James were convinced that healing came from a man praying for himself, he would have said so. There must be something significant about bringing your sins and struggles to others.

The Christian faith must be lived in mutuality.

There's a big difference, too, in confessing your sins to one another and confessing your sins to everyone. Although we are a "kingdom of priests", not everyone can be trusted with the special care, grace, and discernment required for healthy confession. I wouldn't expose my jugular to anyone with a knife and a reputation for using one, nor would I confess my sins and struggles to someone who would use such information for leverage, power, or destruction.

True confession would lead to love (not leverage), freedom (not control), and healing (not condemnation). It would look like Jesus.

The point of confession among believers isn't just the forgiveness of sin but is also healing. I have experienced the washing away of guilt or pain or darkness when I have confessed my weaknesses, struggles, and sins with a trusted brother or mentor. For men especially, getting thoughts outside of the darkness of our minds can be liberating enough to bring about tremendous healing and re-set our course in the right direction. We don't do well alone with our thoughts.

Confession is also a sign of the spiritual health of a congregation and the individual believer. I think when people feel safe enough to confess, it surely must reflect an authentic presence of mercy and wisdom in the life of the one's hearing the confession. I tell you this...it is certainly humbling to be on the receiving end of someone's deepest confession. There are fewer things, in my experience, that are received with such a weight of responsibility.

It is my belief that people discover the love and grace of God when they experience it from God's people. By the look of things, I'd say we could use a little more of it.

Remedy

Transparency

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven" (Jesus, Mt. 5:3).

Where grace persists and people take seriously the communion of the Body of Christ (in other words, the community of followers of Christ), you will see transparency at work. I think our level of transparency with one another is a sign of health in a church and a measure of the loving, restorative nature of our ministry to one another.

Transparency is good for us. All of us.

Transparency puts to death our need to preserve our reputation rather than pursue true spiritual formation. Rather than giving in to the urge to portray ourselves as something we are not, honesty and transparency about our weaknesses keeps us dependent upon God's grace (and others!). Even Paul, whom many admire as a great man, understood the important role of "the thorn" to keep us from becoming conceited and in a state of dependence. For as much as we read all the bravado in Paul's writings, we cannot skip over his level of transparency and honesty about his own life!

Transparency liberates from the guilt and condemnation that comes from battling things privately in the secret confines of our own minds. I know it to be true for myself...when I talk things out with a trusted friend, things aren't nearly as dark and dismal as I had played them up to be. I've known a lot of personal healing through bringing thoughts out of the "darkness" in my mind and bringing them into the light or open. This has been one of my favorite aspects of authentic community!

Transparency teaches and leads others through our example. When we determine to live in transparency, others learn through us and often find the freedom to discover tangible grace for themselves. Doctrines and dogmas, facts and statistics do little to sway people, but the sharing of one's own personal stories, warts and all, can cause people to relate to the inner working of God's Spirit like nothing else.

Transparency stimulates gracious, merciful living towards others. I am convinced that the reason why people find it so difficult in practicing mercy is because of how little they have experienced it themselves. Once we have opened ourselves to being beneficiaries of the grace of God, we have the grace to dispense towards others. Mercy begets mercy, and it starts to defeat whatever remains of the "unmerciful servant" in us (Matthew 18). I believe it causes us to be less uptight and less judgmental of others and helps to develop an appetite within us for bringing people to life!

Through trusted honesty, our real, raw humanity can be met with the tangible grace of God. Richard Rohr, a Franciscan priest with a men's ministry I admire, said this: "A man who owns his limitations and weeps over his sin is much more effective than one who thinks he has neither." Transparency and honesty -- especially in authentic community -- keeps us real and keeps us dependent (though we may fear both!).

A month ago, I was talking with a colleague who happened to be very outspoken at a team meeting while challenging some things that were coming out of his manager's mouth. I admired his ability to speak the truth on behalf of all of us, knowing that he was risking his job in the process. When I began to heap my admiration upon him, he stopped me and said this: "I don't want you to be under the impression that I am a brave man. I've just got a great job offer in the works and I have nothing to lose!"

I laughed.

How true! We've got nothing to lose! Apart from Christ, I have no reputation before God. "Jesus Christ is my only reason for boasting."

Hide

"...confess your sins to each other and pray for each other that you may be healed" (James 5:15).

The most common threat every child carries with them in their prepubescent vocabulary is the phrase "I'm going to tell on you!" Such threats can strike fear into the hearts of children in playgrounds and on monkey bars everywhere. Generally, there were just a handful of students who had the reputation of being tattlers, but we learned to avoid them altogether or alter our conversation and behavior whenever they came around. We learned how to survive by mistrusting those who couldn't keep their mouth shut or pretending to be doing something else whenever they were around.

As adults, we've perfected these techniques first learned in childhood. We were taught to hide, but we mastered concealment and secrecy by our teen years and on into adulthood. This, unfortunately, can have serious consequences for our mental health and even spiritual development and transformation. Our emotional, mental, and spiritual health is always tied into community, so whenever we attempt to "go at it alone", we seldom find success or resolve -- quite the opposite, in fact. Community, especially authentic Christian community that is immersed in wisdom and grace, has trememdous power to transform and heal. Despite biblical counsel to confess our sins to one another, it is probably not broadly practiced among believers today. It may be normal to hide, but it is not healthy.

"...confess your sins to each other and pray for each other that you may be healed" (James 5:15).

I think there are generally two reasons why people hide their struggles and sins, soft spots and sore points: shame and protection. I can understand both. No one likes to air their dirty laundry in the presence of others. Shame and the subsequent act of hiding is one of the oldest recorded behaviors of man (Genesis 3). God, in his mercy, made a covering for them so they would not be ashamed. So, too, should we be careful to cover those who have either been made vulnerable or have exposed themselves by their own choosing.

As far as protection, anyone who has had the awful experience of having their secrets or insecurities used as leverage against them by people who seek to manipulate and control has obvious and credible reasons to keep themselves tucked safely away. Why would anyone openly invite judgment, condemnation, ridicule, or isolation? I am convinced many people don't seek out confession within the Body of Christ because they do not feel safe to do so.

Our fear of one another causes us to bear false witness.

Hiding, among other things, prevents us from experiencing transformative grace, robs us of authentic living and deep community, increases our isolation, feeds self-destruction, and stunts the spiritual maturity and growth of the church. It gives us a sense of false-security but never quite takes away the fear of being found out. That's why the security is false.

When I first went into ministry, there were any number of elder pastors who advised me to be sure to never develop deepened, trusting relationships within the congregations I served. While I should move close to the people I was called to serve, I was advised never to allow them too close to me. For some reason, it was important to keep the insecure, weak, or worried parts of me hidden while the man of strength took center stage. I don't believe this now, and -- quite frankly -- it didn't sit right with me when I first heard it. What an unhealthy approach to life (and ministry)!

One of those irkish little things about being a pastor is how quickly some people morph and change their behavior whenever I am around. I say "some" because I have been priviledged to be around many truly authentic people. Just occasionally, I get to witness the verbal acrobatics some people perform in order to pull off the act of concealment. It's awkward. It makes me feel awkward, and they look awkward. I prefer the company of the authentic over pretense and posturing any day, yet I can understand why some would do it.

I can never forget those countless moments with youth and grown men who have quietly, in the confines of safe places, relieved themselves of the secrets of their hearts, the battles of the mind, or the bruises of yesteryear and found healing and redemption in Christ. I have seen grown men weep and broken men laugh as the mercy of God intersected with their greatest need.

Often I have heard comments about how young people these days are "so far out there". I believe what we are often observing is their backlash against face, pretense, and hiding -- a rebellion against the inauthentic...and this is one of the traits of post-modernism. They want to be known. While I can appreciate their "soul streak", many of them still lack the community and support of those who can offer the foundational things that they are craving. I dream of a church with a heart prepared to engage and serve others at their greatest point of need.

The survival techniques of our youth don't necessarily do us any good as we grow towards maturity. The challenge is in finding our way forward...

Next article "Transparency".

Friendship with God

"Church father Gregory of Nyssa (approximately AD 331-396) seemed to have understood that the willingness to pursue friendship with God yields more benefit than pretending to have already attained it" (Eric Sandras, "Buck Naked Faith").

"Since the goal of the virtuous way of life is the very thing we have been seeking, it is time for you, noble friend, to be known by God and to become his friend. This is true perfection: not to avoid a wicked life because like slaves we severely fear punishment, not to do good because we hope for rewards... On the contrary, disregarding all those things for which we hope and which have been reserved by promise, we regard falling from God's friendship as the only thing dreadful and we consider becoming God's friend the only thing worthy of honor and desire. This, as I have said, is the perfection of life."

Gregory of Nyssa, "The Life of Moses"

Kiss

Grace

Enlarged

Transformed, Renewed

"I want to love wildly and live recklessly..."

"Let it never be about numbers and what the world calls success. Let is instead be about Jesus and about love. May I be transformed by my mind being renewed. May I step out of the mindset that I filled with greed and self-satisfaction and in the one that is marked by selflessness. May the opinion of man feel as empty and meaningless as it really is, and may I care only about Your opinion of me. May I never carry my accomplishments on my sleeve knowing that my failures far outweigh them and both are worthless in Your perception. I want to follow You wherever You go- not go wherever I want and ask You to follow me. I want to know the communion of Your suffering that I may better know the joy You bring in times of mourning. I want too experience You just how You are, not how I want You to be. I want to love wildly and live recklessly and tell the world to shove it while I pursue a breath of life and become alive

by finding You in the mountains

and the oceans

and in the homeless

and sick.

May I be a man marked by love and by grace. One who loves because he is loved, and gives grace because he has received it."

This was written by Luke Miller from Gilbert, Arizona. He posted it on Facebook, and with his permission, I have posted it on The Wayfarer. My heart screamed "Yes!" when I read it. I hope your does too.

Self-Serving Fictions

"Even the fear of death is nothing compared to the fear of not having lived authentically and fully" (F.M. Lappe).

There are few things in my life that I find as refreshing and renewing as doing life with those who share my appreciation for authenticity and transparency. I find that I am more at peace when I am honest with myself and with others about my life, my struggles, my pain, and my quiet hopes and dreams. In authentic community, transparency gives us the opportunity to be met with a richness of grace and love that we otherwise might not ever experience.

For many of us, from the time we are very young, we begin the art of hiding, becoming actors on the world stage and masters of fiction. We take great care to display to those around us only those things they may find good and acceptable, and we disguise and conceal those things that might earn us disapproval or out-right rejection. Our fear keeps us hidden, and our obscurity keeps us from experiencing transformative grace, love, and acceptance...from God and from others!

Our protective masks and self-serving fictions bury us in shame and add to our despair. Within the confines of our own heads, we wrestle with our thoughts, agonize over our inadequacies, and lament over our losses. Instead of finding the holy, life-giving Spirit of God, we spiral into darkness and death.

What are we afraid of?

Perhaps many of us are not yet part of a truly redemptive community where mercy abounds and the Spirit of Christ reigns. Perhaps we stick to ourselves because we believe that such independence is a good thing, or perhaps we've never known anything different. With self-reliance as our banner, we march further and further into ourselves, and we quietly suffer from the loss of never having been known.

We must be authentic with each other, to voice our authentic sorrow, our authentic fear, our authentic doubts, our authentic struggles. Perhaps then, we will experience authentic community, authentic grace, authentic love.

Attack

Plank

Making the Grade

"The unexamined life is not worth living." (Socrates).

My high school students are currently completing their big autobiography project, a major part of their grade in the course I teach. Whenever I first introduce the project, I set down the parameters and lay out my expectations and remind them that what they choose to share in their autobiography is their own personal choice. I am always amazed at what these teens choose to share in the confidence of this assignment. Usually, I spend many nights carefully reading the story of their lives as seen through their own eyes while fighting off the tears in mine.

As a teacher, it is my responsibility to help my students have a productive understanding of how the English language works. With red pen in hand, I point out spelling mistakes, grammatical errors, and sentence structure nightmares for them to revise for their final copy. Knowing and using the English language well is, of course, for their benefit, so I labor over the text and provide instructions for correction in the margins. At the bottom, I jot a few notes and provide a point total out of 100 for the quality of the content, standards met, and proper use of the English language.

And I feel like a heartless brute for doing it.

It's difficult for me to concentrate on the dotting of I's and crossing of T's and explaining the difference between their, there, and they're in the same sentence that I am reading about a student's nightmare at having been sitting beside her brother when he was shot between the eyes by a rival gang member, leaving her covered in blood. It's hard to focus on the eternal run-on sentence when reading about the lives of each student who is trying to survive their own unique hell.

Then I total up the points and enter the digits into the gradebook.

While I can be conflicted, I know that they must learn. So I take every opportunity to teach them so that they are able to choose a better life for themselves. Yes, that includes learning English well, among other things. It also includes making choices to live their lives differently, and my pity or allowing them take the easy way out probably won't really help.

I feel a bit legalistic, to be honest with you, when grading their autobiography projects and slapping a percentage on the bottom. I care for my students, and I can't help but feel remorse, grief, and anxiety when I read their stories. Their personalities, behaviors, and attitudes begin to make sense as I decipher the codes encrypted in unintelligible handwriting and mind-boggling sentence structure. It's at this point in my class, that the overflow of my heart becomes most apparent to me.

I can't imagine the love the Father has for his children! He knows us well, and it is his love that becomes his motivation for everything he does. God is love, so I believe everything that comes from God (including his instruction) flows from a place of love and is for our benefit. Knowing what he knows about each life, each story, each person is a burden I am glad I do not share with him, but I do ask that my heart would gain just a sliver of his capacity for love. Without his love, I couldn't make the grade.

Up front, I tell my students that their rough draft will be graded for content and proper grammer and spelling and that I will reserve all other comments and commentary for their final copy. I cannot approach this project -- their lives - as merely academic. It demands something more of me. I am proud of the outcome I see in their lives as they examine themselves.

Minister of the Gospel

"...for in Christ shall all be made alive."

In 2000, I was ordained an elder -- a minister of the Gospel -- by laying on of hands at the Blue River Church. I have taken that charge seriously whether employed by a church, serving as a missionary, or now working in a public school. As a minister, I think I've always carried with me this idea that my calling could not be simply about words. I wasn't ordained as a speaker or simply a preacher but as a minister. In other words, I want people to know the good news of God with my life. I'm not called to be a great and convincing orator. I am called to live as His.

We tend to focus a lot on the spoken word in the church (as well we should), but I believe we miss a lot of the dynamism of the message of Christ when we limit our ministry to words...to "preaching" as we understand the term. In a day when one's "ministry" is judged a lot on skill as a great and dynamic speaker, it can become easy to overlook Christ's call for us to live among the people and serve them in His name.

"Preaching" is a part of the call to ministry but it is certainly not all of it. When I do speak, I am given the charge to "preach the good news" -- a charge I gladly keep. I am continually amazed, however, by those who want me to preach "a different gospel"...one absent of grace and and full of curse and condemnation. I am astounded by those believers who I have met who have little or no comprehension of the depth of God's mercy and the breadth of his grace. They, instead, believe in a "gospel" dependent upon our works and a conditional love from God based on reward and performance. Like the Apostle Paul in his letter to the Galatians, I am frustrated by those believers who "cut in" on the truth and insist that the grace of God is conditional. They offer nothing but a curse.

Who is preaching a message of life out there? I will listen to my conscience and keep my vow as a minister of the Gospel. When I speak, I want it to be good news. Having said that, I want my life to be good news as well.

Those who know me well know that I am a bit of a MASH fan (you should hear my very spiritual reasons for liking it so much!). Apart from Season 7, I think I own the entire series. Among my favorite episodes is one entitled "Blood Brothers" from Season 9. The beloved Father Mulcahy, expecting a visit from a Cardinal, worked hard to improve the moral image of the camp and deliver "a particularly inspirational sermon" in honor of the Cardinal's visit. He was obsessed with making a good impression, but it all backfired. The episode culminated with Fr. Mulcahy's public confession of his selfishness and my all-time favorite MASH quote: "God didn't put us here for that pat on the back. He created us so He could be here Himself, so that He could exist in the lives of those He created in His image."

Well put.

Because of Christ, I can be good news to the gang member, the homosexual, the prisoner, the outcast, and the church deacon. Currently, I have no audience to sway with my preaching of words, but my calling hasn't strayed one bit. I have the privilege of serving a population of people who have experienced very little of the goodness of God (or the goodness of people, for that matter). Where I get my paycheck from has changed.

Very little else has.

"May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me and I to the world. Neither circumcision nor uncircumcision means anything; what counts is a new creation.

Peace and mercy to all who follow this rule..." (Galatians 6:14-16).

Limits

"The key, in a sense, to our family is how we treat the child that tests us the very most. That child alone enables the other children to sense and feel that our love is unconditional. And that knowledge, that inward sensing, that inward feeling, is beyond price" (Covey).

It's not the student that is easiest to work with that teaches us the limits of our love, it's the one that tests, pushes, challenges, disrupts, fights, and resists that teaches us the most. I suppose it is those students I should be most thankful for, because they show me the limits of my commitment and love and afford me the opportunity to repent when I recognize it.

Taste

The Company We Keep

"Remember to welcome strangers, because some who have done this have welcomed angels without knowing it" (Hebrews 13:2).

We are known by the company we keep.

While the implication of this sentence is that we should avoid those who might tarnish our reputation and hurt our witness, I prefer to take a different spin on it. Many of us who grew up in church having echoes of "oh be careful little ears what you hear" ringing in our head might be inclined to think that all sinners and nonChristians should be avoided. Perhaps they might rub off on us.

These are good lessons for children, perhaps. When I was a child, I needed to be taught like a child. The problem is when we never grow up into more mature thinking. Children who grow up avoiding the "bad" kids can easily become adult separatists who avoid anyone who doesn't believe or live like themselves. I am sure we can read 2 Corinthians 6:14-18 and justify our separatism...but in the spirit of Christ, I cannot.

We are known by the company we keep.

Jesus really and truly challenges my perceptions. He loved the people the Old Testament scriptures -- His scriptures -- condemned to death. His associations and camaraderie with adulterors, prostitutes, tax collectors, outcasts, Gentiles, Roman officials (and women) made him scandalous in the eyes of the religious establishment. The people he chose to bring into his circle of association evoked so much irk and ire from the religious as to inspire hatred and consipiracy to murder. Jesus was blasphemous in their eyes.

We are known by the company we keep.

Jesus was not at all concerned about his reputation or about scandalizing the reputation of his Father. He was setting things right. Sometimes, in order to set things right, we need to turn things upside down in order to make them right-side up. This is something even the disciples of Christ struggled to come to grips with. He delighted in the company he kept.

Do you recall the story in Acts 10 of Peter in a trance-like state on the rooftop? In his vision, a sheet was lowered before him full of unclean and profane foods that a good Jew was prohibited from eating. The voice told him to eat, but Peter replied three times that he could not eat what was unclean. On the third denial (a common theme with Peter!), the voice replied "Do not call unclean what I have made pure". With that vision, God was shaking loose his old way of thinking in order to prod him forward to take the Gospel to the Gentiles. So hardened in Peter's thinking was this required avoidance of Gentiles that he continued to struggle with it until his death. God called another apostle, Paul, to take the good news to Gentile communities.

We are known by the company we keep.

I am not willing to be separated from sinful people. I delight in those who are within our circle of association, many of whom I call my friends. I cherish their presence in my life and I see them as loving gifts from the Father. I reject the notion that Jesus calls his people to circle up the wagons and form protectionist and separatist camps. Instead, I want to pioneer...to take the love of God found in Jesus to forbidden people and places. The kind of believer I am is, indeed, determined by the company I keep.

We are also known by the company we don't keep.

Grace

Grace and Judgment

I think about grace and judgment quite often, not so much in terms of what we can expect when we stand before God but rather in how we treat one another. In particular, I think about the levels of grace verses judgment those who follow Christ seem to demonstrate in their daily lives. How often does judgment win over grace?

I've come to the conclusion that we are fairly comfortable with judgment. We can dispense it with easy measure and manage to feel good about ourselves in the process. Everyone does it -- believers and non alike. I guess that's what disturbs me, especially when I see it in myself.

Grace makes us uncomfortable. We don't know what to do with it because it's so...unnatural. Judgment seems to fit our nature, whereas grace is supernatural (beyond what is natural or normal for us). It comes from God, and like most things that are from Him, sometimes feels beyond our grasp of understanding. It certainly seems beyond the scope of our human experience.

Grace makes us squirm, because in our twisted thinking, we are convinced that being judged and judging one another is the right thing to do. To move beyond what is for most of us a daily practice of judgment would be a complete life-shift and overhaul of our thinking. Seems like it would require some sort of divine intervention to override our life-long patterns of judgment and separation.

Enter Jesus.

He showed us a better way to live among our neighbors (and to live with ourselves). He divinely interjects grace and mercy and love into a world filled with judgment. He injects me with his grace, too, but I still show symptoms of the "pattern of this world". Good thing his grace knows no bounds.

"Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is -- his good, pleasing, and perfect will."

(Romans 12:2)

Freed

There's a great story in the book of Acts in the New Testament about two men named Paul and Silas who were thrown into prison because, ironically, they set a slave girl free of her demon possession. Her "owners" were angry that they could no longer make money off of her, so they had Paul and Silas thrown into prision for being a public nuissance.

About midnight, something amazing took place. "Suddenly, there was such a violent earthquake that the foundations of the prison were shaken. At once, all the prison doors flew open, and everybody's chains came loose" (Acts 16:26). I've read this story on more than a few occassions, but it wasn't until recently that I paid much attention to the details of this verse or the implications of it. Apparently, "all the prison doors flew open" and "everybody's chains came loose". Maybe you're sharper than me, but it wasn't until recently that I realized it wasn't just the praying, singing Paul and Silas who got their freedom that night.

When Paul and Silas were set free, so were all the other prisoners. Now this is pure speculation, but that could mean that, if God was responsible for this miracle, He also set free men who could have been thieves, political prisoners, sexual offenders, or even murderers. All freed. The gift of freedom showed no partiality that night.

This just flies right in the face of our understanding of Justice, which is directly tied into our thinking that people should get what they deserve. Apparently, God doesn't think that way. The word "prisoner" implies someone who broke the law and was found guilty. It doesn't just imply those "falsely accused" like Paul and Silas.

The truth about God is that He does demand justice, but He satisfies His own justice with His son Jesus. The guilty verdict has already been placed on humanity, but the pardon -- and the freedom -- has come through Jesus. Jesus really does set the guilty free...the condemned, those who intentionally broke the law. Jesus sets the prisoners free.

What about Justice? What we think about this word, I believe, tells us a lot about what we think about God. Our sense of justice is that if the law is broken, punishment must follow. Followers of Christ can be too quick to apply this sort of justice to the world around us. We have bought into this idea that man initiates with his sin and God responds with His justice (translation, punishment). My friends, this is legalism. It's easy for us to relish the moment when the guilty get what they deserve; very few of us would relish it if we got what we deserved.

The truth is that because God's mercy triumphs over His judgment (James 2:13), we live under a different formula of justice: God initiates with His love and grace, and we respond. God's justice is satisfied with Christ. It is a curse to live under the law (Galatians 3) and with legalism in our thinking.

I am not denying my guilt -- or anyone else's -- but I no longer live under condemnation or in a prison of legalism. I am not one of those who declares that I have been "falsely accused". I am very aware of the grace I am in need of, and I am grateful for it. This guilty prisoner is free.

There's a lot of discussion in America about what liberty is and isn't, and that is evidenced by all the cases that are brought before our Supreme Court. To me, liberty is cheapened when it becomes just this shallow notion that I can just do whatever I want. I think it's something much more profound. In my thinking, liberty is a gift from God as demonstrated in the gift of His son who died to set all men free. I have a lot in common with all those criminals who shared that prison with Paul and Silas.

Without merit, I have been given my freedom.

"He causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous" -- Jesus (Matthew 5:45).