Steve's Letter: "Do You Know You're Free?"

I just stopped what I was doing to write to you...a far more pleasant prospect than what I was doing.
What was I doing?

I was working on a speech/sermon I'm to give at Reformed Theological Seminary's graduation where I teach...uh...

...by the time you read this, "used to teach."

The thought of "used to teach" is almost as good as writing to you. As I told you, after this semester I'll be teaching only occasional weeklong courses. I just wrote the first sentence of my graduation speech: "Nah, nah, nah."

Jesus made me delete it.

As I worked on the presentation, I remembered my first encounter with the seminary. It was years ago. They asked me to come and speak for their "Winter Theological Institute" and I sat with the president during the opening session at which one of the missions professors spoke.

These were his opening remarks: "Seeing as how the board has not seen fit to renew my contract, there are some things I've been meaning to say."

That is when he got out a verbal "howitzer" and blasted away. In fact, I didn't even know the people he was talking about and I winced.

As we left that opening session, I turned to the president and said something comforting and pastoral..."What? Are you crazy? You don't fire someone and then put them in the pulpit. What were you smoking?"

The president said that there was nothing he could do. The program had been set, brochures had already been sent out and the decisions made before the board fired the professor.

I know how that professor felt. I can hardly wait to speak for graduation.

No, not that. I love RTS and the people involved. Some of my most profound and closest friendships are there. My time at the seminary has been some of the most gratifying time of my life. While I needed to leave either the seminary or my wife Anna (that was a no brainer), there is a kind of sadness attached to it.

So I don't have a "howitzer" and, even if I did, I have no desire to use it.

But there is a freedom about it. It's a freedom not altogether different from the freedom that all Christians have, but rarely use.

When Paul was in prison, he wrote to the Philippians about the fact that he might die. He said this: "For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me. Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell. I am hard pressed between the two" (1:21-23). He also wrote to the Romans: "If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord. So then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord's" (14:8). (The translation: What the hey! Doesn't matter. I'm the Lord's.) As he wrote to the churches and countered the error...it was clear that what others thought about Paul mattered very little to him.

Paul could have given a good speech to our graduation class or, for that matter, to the United Nations or the United States congress. His speech would be true, the leverage against him would be minimal, and his words would have great power.

Do you know why? Because he was free. Paul was free because he was forgiven and loved, and he was forgiven and loved because of Christ. He didn't have to commend himself to anybody, and knew that he was acceptable and accepted by God no matter what anybody thought. His words almost leap off the page: "Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom" (2 Corinthians 3:17).

I have a friend who has been bullied by a family member from the time he was a little boy. He became a Christian a few years ago and increasingly has come to see the power and freedom he has received from Christ. He really is a new creature in Christ, the old really has passed away and the new has come (2 Corinthians 5:17). The bully just doesn't "get it."

My friend stood up to this family member the other day and the bully doesn't know how to deal with it. The family member has yelled, and tried to intimidate and manipulate, all to no effect whatsoever. The bully has taken my friend to court and lost the case (even the judge was irritated with him). My friend has said (with more love than I could have mustered), "I'm a child of the King and, if you know what's good for you, you'll quit messing with me. And you can be his child too, if you want."

He's got it! He's free.

One more story and then I'll have to get back to that speech.

When the new campus was being constructed at the seminary, the then president and my friend, Dr. Luder Whitlock, took me on a tour. He said to me that he had some bad news and some good news. "Steve," he said, "the bad news is that I'm not going to let you and the others smoke your pipes in your offices the way you could at the old campus." Then he smiled and said, "Come with me." He took me to the second floor where the faculty offices are located and showed me a porch/patio under construction. He said, "I had this built just for you and this is where you can smoke your pipe whenever you want."

The students have come to refer to that porch/patio as "Brown's Lounge."

In the last year, the insurance company mandated that RTS be a "smoke free" campus. That means you can't smoke anywhere. You can't even smoke in the woods behind the campus, in the parking lot or on the sidewalks surrounding the campus.

I still occasionally sneak and light my pipe when nobody is around. (I didn't sign their contract, made no promises, and figure-even if they don't agree-that I should be grandfathered in. It's my lounge, the president promised, and I figure I'm an exception.)

The other day I was out on that porch/patio when a student caught me lighting my pipe. "Dr. Brown," he said, "you are going to get into trouble."

I said, "No I'm not. What are they going to do? Fire me?"

I probably shouldn't have written what I wrote above, but we're friends and friends not only don't let friends drive drunk, friends always forgive friends. And no, I'm not a very good example. I really do believe in submitting to authority, know that smoking is bad for me and understand that what I did was bad. So don't send me letters. Okay?

In fact, when I get out from under this constant pressure of teaching week in and week out, I just might quit.

Then again, I might not.

But don't miss the point: If you know you're forgiven, if you don't have to be right, and if you know you're loved without condition or reservation, you're free to give strong speeches, live with joy, and dance without caring if anybody is looking.

He asked me to remind you!

In His Grip,