Christian Liberty

I recently listened to a podcast with a Navy SEAL who was sharing about his experience in the military. As one example, he discussed how, during boot camp, “you lose your freedoms.” In the words of my grandfather, a Marine, “you lose your identity.”

A friend of mine paints this picture: “You are told when to go to sleep, when to wake up, where to walk/march, how to walk/march, when to start eating, when to stop eating, what to eat, where to eat, when and what to study, when and how to train, when and where and how to exercise. You are forced to exercise extensively for failing, you are forced to exercise extensively for succeeding (because you could have done better). You are told when and where and for how long you can pray (out loud) and read your Bible.”

In sum, you are told when, where, how, and how long you are to do what you have permission to do. Everything falls into this model, and religion is no exception. You have nothing, not even a phone to connect with the outside world. Just intense, rigorous, death-defying discipline.

This struck a chord. While Scripture presents a kind of Christian liberty, and it is for freedom that Christ has set us free (Gal. 5:1), our beautiful freedom in Him is also slavery to righteousness (Rom. 6:19). The word used here is δουλοσ, or doulos, meaning slave or bondman. While this word is often translated “servant,” as John MacArthur notes, in the Greek it never means anything but “slave.” James calls himself a doulos of God and of Christ (1:1). He who sins is a doulos, or slave, to sin (Jn. 8:34). In John 15, Jesus essentially says that the disciples are slaves who have been given the honor of also being friends (Jn. 15:15).

Jesus says, “Pick up your cross daily and follow me” (Lk. 9:23). Bearing a cross is not easy. We are free to live as we were designed, but we are not free to live as we please. We acknowledge that while everything is permissible, “not everything is beneficial” (1 Cor. 10:23). We are stewards of our freedom, and love must govern our liberty.

I think of Timothy. When Paul visits Lystra in Acts 16, we read that a disciple named Timothy lived there, whose mother was a Jewish believer and father was a Greek. The problem was that everyone knew it. While he had a stellar reputation among the believers (v. 2), because Paul wanted to include him on his missionary journey, Timothy nonetheless chose to be circumcised to not be a hindrance to the gospel. Talk of Christian liberty! He did not fault or blame his culture or family; he certainly did not blame his audience, his mission field. Rather, he chose pain and fire to enhance his opportunity and the credibility of the most important message his contemporaries would ever hear.

Timothy remains a prime example of how when we voluntarily sign up to join the army of God, we forfeit our freedoms. We have no rights. We fight for the opportunity of those we may never meet against the enemy they cannot see for freedoms they may not even recognize.

Who would sign up for an army such as this? Those who see that it is right. Because of loyalty. Because of love. Because the rightness of the task and of good outweigh the hardness, demands, and rigor of army life. And because we have a model in our honored Commander-in-Chief, who does not ask anything of us He has not sacrificed or endured Himself.

George Washington, our first president, mirrors this philosophy. In eight long years of brutal war away from his beloved Virginia, fighting the most equipped military force in the world, he commanded upwards of 150,000 men and managed a war cabinet, military needs, staffers, and spies—and would not take a salary. He worked tirelessly without a sabbatical and made several financial sacrifices in a time of tremendous inflation.

Yet, ultimately, he triumphs. World leaders, watching from the sidelines, may have been “confident that Washington would do what every other victorious military leader has done through history—assume an unopposed position as monarch/dictator of the newly forming young American Republic.”

But he doesn’t.

When King George III heard the rumor that Washington might actually resign and return to private life, he declared, “If he does that, he will be the greatest man in the world.” Even King George recognized that the one who chooses to serve is the greatest (Lk. 22:26), and the power and appeal of the “kingdoms of the world,” in the end, are empty (Matt. 4:8).

Coincidentally, I recently spoke with a soldier who shared how basic training was incredibly strenuous. However, the intensity drew the recruits together, resulting in friends she now has all over the country. This, too, is not without a parallel in Christian thought (Prov. 27:17). As we experience the demands of training and self-denial, even persecution, we suffer together. We fellowship and are reminded of the struggle we don’t dare think we can do alone. I believe it was John Ortberg who wrote, “Christianity is like a nail. The harder you strike it, the deeper it goes.” We lift one another up. We bond, knowing that victory does not result from each soldier living his own way. We carry one another’s burdens, and we cultivate decisiveness and discernment to resist the folly of scoundrels (2 Chron. 13:7).

Harking back to Christian liberty, if we are living day by day, deed by deed, duty by duty, and choice by choice—not only for ourselves but for our brethren—there’s no question about whether we would make what some would call a sacrifice. We are for them, because we are for our country and for victory, and because we too require grace. We do not ridicule them because the comradery and the battle are too important for us to be distracted by petty gossip, quarreling, and pride. If we find ourselves becoming unnecessarily or destructively divisive, perhaps we ought to reexamine whether we are truly among our comrades, or we need a hotter refining fire.

Increasingly, in our own country, the military in general and army in particular are not what they used to be. According to the U.S. Army’s own information, the current labor market is the most challenging since the inception of the all-volunteer force (AVF) adopted in 1973. Fifty percent of youth admit they know little to nothing about military service, and 71% of youth do not qualify for military service because of obesity, drugs, physical and mental health problems, misconduct, and/or aptitude. Only 1% of the current population currently serves, and the veteran population overall is declining. Forty years ago, in 1980, nearly one in five (18%) Americans were veterans; now, that number lingers at about 7%. Some say that the COVID lockdowns created special barriers for recruiters, but low unemployment, increased competition for talent, and certain media portrayals of the military also present challenges.

We may say something similar for our efforts of Christian recruitment. The distractions and pleasures of our world appeal to many, and sacrifice and self-denial, especially that which goes unseen, has never been popular. Few youth, much less of the overall population, know what real service is like. Popular media depictions of Christianity don’t help, and “veterans” are becoming rarer and rarer.

And yet, there is hope.

This year we celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the decision to have an all-volunteer military. Yet while that is impressive, God’s army has always been an AVF, an all-volunteer force. Unlike any earthly nation, God does not need us. He does not require an army to accomplish His purposes but invites us into His ranks and offers His own benefits. Even so, while we are a volunteer force, that doesn’t make us less committed; in fact, we are more so. Neither are we part-time volunteers. Even George Washington knew that part-time soldiers were insufficient to meet the country’s security needs. We are all in, because our country and Commander-in-Chief are worth it.

The army requires sacrifice and commitment to a cause that is greater so that others may thrive. During his stay at Valley Forge in the winter of 1777 to 1778, Washington did not experience the “life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness” espoused in the Declaration of Independence. Diseases like influenza and typhoid killed nearly 2,000 people during the encampment. In addition, the army faced shortages of provisions, clothing, and shoes. At one point in March, records label 2,898 men as unfit for duty due to a lack of clothing. And yet, while there remains a patriotic mythology around Valley Forge, it reflects the reality that, though we suffer, we may experience great victory.

Historically, as one author writes, honorable behavior among soldiers involved “unquestioning obedience to higher authority and acceptance of the hardships of military life.” At the same time, human authorities will fail us. People make mistakes; God doesn’t. If we ever experience what feels like the charge of the light brigade, it is not because God is forgetful or at fault. He may simply desire to prove His strength among the Midianites (Judg. 7). He doesn’t need numbers because, in the words of Frederick Douglass, “One and God make a majority.” Our call is simply “unquestioning obedience.”

Personal surrender is not an option but a feature of military life (Rom. 12:1-2). It is part of the hardware, not an added application, and one of our greatest weapons. We can serve two masters—a waiter can serve multiple tables—but we can only be slave, doulos, to one. Yes, we are free in Christ, but we have freedoms to lay them down. In addition, we do not belong to ourselves but to the God and people we serve. We are not our own (1 Cor. 6:19). Rather, we follow our Commander-in-Chief who has our best at heart, whose way is perfect (Ps. 18:30), whose burden is light (Matt. 11:30), and whose kingdom knows no end (Is. 9:7).

Discipline is the soul of an army. It makes small numbers formidable...

George Washington

My soul, see to it that thou be at peace with this mighty King,

yea, more, be sure to enlist under His banner...

Jesus, Immanuel, God with us, is ready to receive recruits for the army of the Lord.

Charles Spurgeon

You, my brothers, were called to be free.

But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love.

Galatians 5:13