TABLE TALK
My Will Be Done by Mathew Block
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f you are anything like me, you are beginning to grow weary of the restrictions on normal life which the pandemic has brought. For many months, we have been directed to avoid social gatherings and to stay home—to refrain from visiting friends and family. You may not go where you wish to go. You may not do all that you wish to do. It’s natural then, as vaccinations across the country begin to accelerate, that we look forward with relief (and thanksgiving to God!) to the easing of these burdens. And burdens they have been. You may or may not agree with the various health regulations that have been instituted, but our common response to them nevertheless reveals something important about the human condition: we all chafe at restrictions on our freedom. Anything less than complete autonomy is to us a trial—an imposition on the liberty I should have by right. My rights. My freedom. My liberty. We are fixated on such things these days— and not, perhaps, without reason. But make no mistake: the pandemic is not the cause of our fixation on self-autonomy; it has simply thrown it into sharper relief. Long before the pandemic, our desire for self-determination was just as strong; we were just less aware of it. In fact, the desire for self-autonomy is the ancient inheritance of us all. Our first parents also felt this urge, though in a rather different context. They didn’t wish to be freed from health regulations; they wished to be freed from God. Instructed by Him to refrain from eating of the tree of the knowledge of good and
evil, they rebelled. The fruit was pleasing to the eye. It was desirable for gaining wisdom. Why shouldn’t they eat? Why shouldn’t they wish to become like God? Why shouldn’t they wish to set their own path, to chart their own course, to pray not “Thy will be done” but rather proclaim “My will be done!”? It is not wrong to wish to be free. The problem is, we do not always understand what freedom really is. There is a freedom which is its own imprisonment. Adam and Eve exchanged one master for a lesser. They gave up the freedom of sinlessness for the slavery of sin. They traded life for death. So begins the story of human freedom. And down through the centuries, it has been the same: humanity rebels against the will of God. Like a stubborn ox, we refuse to follow the route the ploughman sets. We kick against the goads. We veer off course and into the mud. We pitch headlong off a cliff. And we call it freedom. This is the slavery of sin: to not even understand that we are slaves. “Everyone who practices sin is a slave to sin,” Jesus says (John 8:34). And so we are. But God is not content to leave us in captivity. Through the death and resurrection of Christ, He restores us to Himself. And contrary to all our fears, we do not find our freedoms curtailed: we find them expanded. “If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed,” Jesus promises (John 8:36). “Come to Me, all who labour and are heavy laden,” He says, “and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you, and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and
you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy, and My burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30). Restored to fellowship with the Father through the Son and empowered by the Holy Spirit, we find that the life God calls us to is not onerous, even if it may at times be difficult. Indeed, life according to God’s plan is freeing— something Rev. Michael Schutz reminds us of in his feature this issue (page six). Yes, it does involve transformation, and transformation can be hard, as we see in Rev. Peter Knelson’s discussion of the “Problem of Porn” this issue (page nine). But this struggle is the loosening of chains. It is the surgery which accompanies the new life—abundant life—which grows in us through Christ. Dear God, enliven us with Your Holy Spirit that we would desire to live life in accordance with Your Word. Teach us to reject the slavery of self and to seek instead the freedom that comes from being Your own. Forgive us when we fail and raise us up to try again. Grant us grace to will what You will—to want what You want. Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. “Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer 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 12:1-2 (NIV 1984) THE CANADIAN LUTHERAN May/June 2021
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