Sermon: Freedom is hard, Christ's yoke is easy (July 6, 2014)

Pentecost 4A/Lectionary 14

July 6, 2014

Romans 7:15-25a

Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

            In last week’s sermon on Romans, I spoke about what we understand as American freedom and what Paul describes as Christian freedom, and how they relate to each other. When I wrote that sermon, I did not realize that the very next day the Supreme Court would announce their decision on a case that brings those two topics together in a monumental way: owners of for-profit corporations are now able to exercise their religious freedom by refusing to pay for medical care – specifically birth control – which violates their religious convictions. The reaction to this decision has been all over the map. Some Christians are delighted, other Christians are appalled, some atheists are using this as more demonstration that religion is destructive, some are waiting to see just how far-reaching this decision will be… Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg suggested in her dissent about the decision that this would have “startling breadth” as to how we understand the place of religious freedom outlined in our First Amendment, and I’d have to say, for better or for worse, I agree with her.

            Between my sermon last week, this decision on Monday, and of course the celebration of the Fourth of July on Friday, I have continued to think a lot about freedom in the past week. The main thrust of last week’s sermon was that while our American freedom allows us to do, say, and believe whatever we want (though with the understanding that some consequences apply), our Christian freedom compels us to use that ability to serve one another. Christ has taken away the burden of sin, and now we, no longer captive to this sin, are able to freely love and serve God and neighbor.

            Today’s text from Romans, which follows what we heard last week, shows us that, while hopeful, this freedom business is also incredibly difficult – because even as we know what God desires from us, it isn’t so easy to follow through. Paul has spent the first six chapters of Romans outlining the law and how good it is and how much he loves it, but now, in chapter seven, he offers this startling confession: “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.”

            That is the difficulty with freedom, you see. As well-intentioned as we may be, and even as certain as we may be at any given time about the rightness of our decisions, it seems too often that we end up doing the wrong thing. Take an encounter I had this week, for example. My mom and I were talking to a friend, and were sharing some old stories with her, and we mentioned someone we both knew. My mom shared a story about something nasty this person had done to her some years ago. Our friend said, “I shouldn’t gossip but… I had a similar experience! She is really a piece of work!” Oh, how often I say something like that: “I shouldn’t say this… but I’m going to anyway,” because, as Paul says, sin is constantly lurking at the door, just waiting for us in all our freedom to slip up a little bit so that sin can creep in there and take over our better judgment. “I know I shouldn’t, but…” is a constant refrain in our lives.

“I do not understand my own actions,” Paul writes. “For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” The first time I heard, really heard these words, I felt an immediate kinship with Paul. He suddenly became a real person to me, not just some writer and scholar from long ago. I realized: he struggled, too. This important man, who wrote so much of what we call the Holy Scriptures – even he struggled with sin, struggled to avoid doing things he knew were the wrong things to do. Turns out, we are all together in this human condition, where we mean well, but end up doing the very thing we know we shouldn’t.

Even as misery enjoys company, though, we cannot stay there – and Paul doesn’t. Just when we start to feel that there is no hope, that our Christian freedom will only get us into trouble because as willing as our hearts may be, our flesh is too darn weak to uphold God’s law… Paul looks outward. “Wretched man that I am!” he exclaims. “Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord.” We are not left on our own. We have the great gift of knowing that Jesus has our backs in this.

I’ve been reading this week a book by Anne Lamott called Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith. In one chapter, she reflects on the growth and wisdom she has experienced in her life. She goes on for some pages about everything she has learned and gained through the various trials and stages of her life. She also comments, however, that she is not thrilled with what age and gravity have done to her body. In her wry, raw way, she writes, “Left to my own devices, would I trade all [that I have gained] for firm thighs, fewer wrinkles, a better memory? You bet I would. That is why it’s such a blessing that I am not left to my own devices.” Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!

            And this brings us to Jesus’ wonderful words of comfort in our Gospel lesson, which are an assurance that we will never be left to our own devices, left to fend for ourselves, left to always do the right thing with the freedom we have been given, even as sin is lurking close at hand. Jesus says, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you…” I used to think that taking Jesus’ yoke upon me was something like taking up Jesus’ cross – that is, taking on a burden, perhaps the burden of seeking justice in the world, with us pulling the load and Christ as the

driver. But the thing about a yoke is that it is not for one animal. It is for two, two animals who are bound together to walk side-by-side and be a more powerful team than one can be alone. So when Christ bids us take his yoke upon us, he means that we should come and be yoked with him, bound together side-by-side – so that suddenly our personal burden no longer feels quite so heavy, because it is being borne with Christ. Our freedom, which so often leads us to sin, is no longer our downfall, because we make decisions with Christ by our side, bearing some of the weight.

It is not only our personal burdens that are carried in this way. Under Christ’s yoke, we are prepared to bear the burdens of the world. With our God-given freedom for service, and with the strength of Christ and his yoke on our team, we do the hard work that we are called to do: standing up to the oppressor, seeking justice for the needy, showing mercy and compassion to those who are suffering. The very things that last week St. Paul told us Christian freedom compels us to do, now we are given the promise that we need not bear the burden of those tasks alone.

            Freedom is a wonderful, beautiful thing, a gift that has come to us by the grace of God through Jesus Christ. It can also be a burden, as we don’t always use it wisely, for the building up of others, but rather, we use it for our own self-promotion or self-preservation. Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord that we are not left to our own devices in this world, but rather are given the gift of Jesus’ own yoke, and the knowledge of God’s strength in carrying the burden of this world.

            Let us pray… We give you thanks, O Lord, for our freedom. But even more we give you thanks that even in that freedom, we are not left to our own devices, but are always accompanied by the gentle, humble yoke of your Son. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.