From Freedom to Peace

Matthew 11:28-30 

This week, a few hundred years ago, the U.S. achieved lasting political independence—something God’s people yearned for millennia. And yet, is there peace—true peace—even in the midst of this freedom? Political conquest has been humanity’s recipe for freedom for ages, and indeed there is good reason for this: self-determination and self-governance bring a tremendous amount of life and liberty and the pursuit of happiness. But the pursuit of happiness is not the same thing as happiness or even contentment.

As spiritual infants, we believe freedom is the power to do as we please. And countless despots and dictators, having seized tremendous power, eventually find themselves empty and isolated. Take the death of Stalin—whose atrocities tallied, by some counts, 20 million.

A stopped watch on the floor suggested that Stalin had fallen at 6:30 in the morning. He lingered until March 5. His daughter, Svetlana, wrote, "At the last moment he suddenly opened his eyes. It was a horrible look — either mad, or angry and full of fear of death. … Suddenly he raised his left hand and sort of either pointed up somewhere, or shook his finger at us all. … The next moment his soul, after one last effort, broke away from his body."(source)

Clearly, no peace—nor freedom either.

We can only surmise what raced through his mind. But as a person of faith, I believe he finally faced the truth: of his evil, the emptiness of his life, and the terror he faced next. This powerful description of his soul breaking away from his body gives the impression that his soul knew, once it left this mortal coil, it would no longer have the power to prevent justice.

But one need not have been an atrocious person to find yourself enslaved by dashed hopes. King David, with all the power any man could want, was enslaved by his desire for Bathsheba. Despite the freedom to do as he pleased, he was not free from his own weakness.

The great gap between freedom and peace is not bridged through improving outward circumstances, but by an inner tranquility. Rooting our freedom inward prevents us from being tossed about by every news cycle or personal failure.

Eons ago, the people yearned for this same relief, and the prophet Isaiah offered the way, “You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you.” — Isaiah 26:3 This is the path to freedom in any circumstance.

The great spiritual mystic St. Teresa of Ávila reminds us, "Let nothing perturb you, nothing frighten you. All things pass. God does not change. Patience achieves everything.”

Her patience showed in her commitment to prayer, which eventually became a “spiritual rain” that showered Christ’s presence within her.

This is the paradoxical secret to true freedom. It comes not from victories of any sort—be they political, personal, or professional—it comes from yoking our lives to Christ through trusting His words, “Take my yoke upon you and learn of me… for my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Lasting freedom begins by giving it away—giving it to God.

Yoke is mentioned over 50 times in the Bible, often with a negative, burdensome obligation—the yoke of the Pharaoh being the most onerous.

Jesus was not a person concerned only with lofty abstract notions. Jesus understood the burden of an ailing body that can destroy the spirit, so he cleansed lepers, gave sight to the blind, made the lame walk. The response of the people showed how much the healing lifted their spirits, how free they felt! They rushed away exuberantly, telling everyone about the gift. They couldn’t help themselves—they were so light in the soul.

Jesus also relieved people from the burden of the law. This is perhaps the clearest meaning behind His statement, “my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” There are two types of religious people in the world: those who break you down and those who build you up. Jesus spent time with children, told jokes about camels going through needles, and turned water into wine. He was not a dour, down-in-the-mouth person. He had a reputation for being a glutton and a drunkard! After spending time with Him, people often went away with a brand-new outlook on life.

Jesus explained that the law is not absolute but a guidepost for loving God and neighbor. If the law prevents us from loving, it must be disobeyed. Jesus broke the law to heal a man on the Sabbath in order to lift the burden of his ailment. But it is not simply religion of any sort that brings inner peace.

This was the tragedy of the rich man who sought Jesus to find the secret to eternal life. He was a good man who kept the commandments of God, but tragically, he loved money more. So, when Jesus told him to sell all he owned and then follow him, the man left crestfallen. But it is not only money—we humans can love just about anything more than God.

This is the trial for us all: to love God more than anything—and that takes discipline.

St. Teresa of Ávila struggled for years to find satisfaction in her prayer life until she realized it wasn’t only the words, but the passion—the devotion—behind them.

And it requires time and energy and work. Unlike the law, Jesus’ burden is light, but make no mistake—it is a burden, an obligation. But when we understand everything that Christ has done for us, it is a burden we gladly take on. Just like when our mother—or whomever raised us—asks us something, we want to do it out of thanksgiving. It is a burden that builds energy and hope and life; it is life-giving, not life-draining.

This is by virtue of its nature. Yoke ultimately derives from the Proto-Indo-European word yugom (isn’t Wikipedia great!) meaning to join or unite. Yoking ourselves to God in Jesus Christ means having a partner to carry the burdens of life.

In cultured society and intellectual society and the business world—and oddly enough, even in the religious world—it can be somewhat passé to imagine that an immaterial God can somehow help us with every problem in our life.

“Oh, religion is the superstition of a less enlightened and ignorant age—and perhaps it’s acceptable that some people still pursue that; after all, people need their comforts.”

And in its place, society—and even religious leaders—attempt to substitute a watered-down version of religion with a pedantic morality that boils down to this:

“Be nice and accepting of others.”

This approach is a counter reaction to another type of poisonous religious perspective—namely:

“If you don’t believe in Jesus the way I believe in Jesus, then you’re going straight to hell.”

And so, it’s understandable that people pushed back from this. But that still leaves us with a milquetoast religion that understandably has no power to do anything for anyone—never mind fails to seek truth.

So, we must choose. To risk something—and seeing what Jesus did do and is doing for people—means I am hitching my wagon, or rather yoking my life to His. I know this God in Jesus Christ is real.

I remember the woman—who might be accused of having an overly simple faith—yoke her life after her husband of 70 years died, and she remained strong and vital because of her faith.

I have known parents whose son was desperate to commit suicide because of the medication he was on. That father wrestled his son to the ground to prevent him from leaping off a bridge. No, God didn’t heal the son through some miracle—but they yoked their mental and spiritual survival to Jesus, and God finally directed them to the right doctor. It was their faith in God, the prayers they offered, and the support they sought that kept them from going mad during that time.

And the stories go on.

Freedom is a profound gift that we enjoy in this country. But freedom in and of itself does not bring peace. Let us yoke our lives to His, and then, as the Good Word says, “we will be free indeed.” Amen.