Over the course of the pandemic, a truth that was previously hidden has come into sharper focus for me.
As each side struggles to defend and protect "my rights", the other side feels oppressed.
Doctors and nurses, many of whom have come to the brink of their sanity, feel oppressed by the protests, and the snide comments about countermeasures—comments made by those who don't know that the largest hospital in Canada was at points moments away from total collapse. If ten more patients had come through the door with COVID, that would have been it.
No one sees them crying in their cars, trembling so hard they can't hold a pen, puking in the hospital parking lot before plastering shaky smiles on their faces and walking through those hospital doors to work through their own personal hell.
The protesters are perhaps a little more vocal, so we at least feel as though we understand their side better. But I'm sure that there are things we miss:
- The fear of being forced in the future to do things to their bodies that they don't want—how potent this fear must be, especially for former rape victims!
- The indignation of the war veteran who has already sacrificed so much for freedom only to now feel oppressed.
- The fear of the refugee that this is only the beginning of the same type of regime he fled from.
By now, we all understand the pain of isolation. Of giving up yet another cherished gathering of family and friends. The desperate attempts to never let our hopes get "too high" in case they're dashed again. The soul crushing weight of the doors opening and closing as we go in and out of lockdown.
The ludicrousness that we are brought to our knees by something less than one billionth billionth our size is too much to wrap our minds around.
We may feel oppressed by the lockdowns, some feel oppressed by the vaccine mandates, and still others feel oppressed by protestors and those who aren't getting the vaccines.
Which brings us to a core reality:
In this world full of sin and the freewill to make imperfect decisions based on imperfect information in imperfect situations, there will always be one party that feels oppressed by the other.
There is no such thing as total freedom for everyone.
When we look at the physical world and freedom that our eyes can see, just like safety, it's actually a mirage.
Oh yes, in times past, I as a white person felt more free. But did my black friends? Did the 1950's single mum? If we honestly and humbly sit down and catalogue the grand sum of freedom throughout history, in every era we will always be able to find groups who are oppressed for the sake of someone else's "freedom". Those who have been dominant are always the loudest to squawk when their dominance erodes.
We sometimes talk about our country as though it used to be "Christian". We want to claim it back "for Christ". But was it really ever Christian? How do we define "Christian"?
- By godly living? Was it Christian in the 1950's, when a man would sit in church on Sunday morning and go home to beat his wife on Sunday night? Was it Christian in the 1970's and 80's when the leaders of the church began to barter their holiness for political power? Was it Christian in the 2000's when worship became a business and churches refused to collaborate in spreading the good news of Jesus' hope and salvation because they couldn't agree on how to divide up potential converts?
- By the number of rear ends in the pews? The way is narrow that leads to heaven. [1] If the majority won't make it to heaven, then who did these rear ends belong to? Christians? Or hypocrites, trying to leverage a religious practice to their social advantage?
- By how comfortable we feel declaring our Christianity to the world? By how accepted we are in society when we plaster ourselves with the label of "Christian"?
What are we really longing for? If it's simply our own comfort, this isn't good enough.
After all, both Jesus and Paul lived in politically repressive regimes. And they never fought against them. Their aims were much loftier than the chase after mirages and shifting shadows.
Which brings me to the most important question for us as Christians today.
What if, like the Israelites, we Christians have misinterpreted what Jesus came to free us from?
The Jews, too, thought that political freedom (from Rome) was the goal of the Christ. Simon the Zealot, a fighter for such freedom, likely joined Jesus' apostles for just that reason.
However, the Bible records none of Jesus' apostles taking on this fight after He rose from the dead and they finally understood what His mission was all about.
That doesn't mean we stop fighting to care for the widow and orphan; or to free those who are sex slaves, or people taken from their families to work in brick kilns, or those born into sweat shops that never let them leave. [2] But it does mean that as Christians we reconsider our fight for our own political freedom.
The freedom that Christ has called us to is one of the spirit—one that no political agenda can remove.
It is a freedom from sin and death, from the tyranny of fear, and from the burden of always trying to get our own way.
It is the freedom to submit ourselves to a God who is greater, whose plans we can't even begin to imagine or guess at.
It is a freedom that exists even when our bodies are chained and broken.
It is a freedom that extends into eternity.
And it is a freedom that is real. It is no mirage. Because at its centre stands the Truth, the Way, and the Life. [3]
NOTES
[1] See Matthew 7:14.
[2] There is an excellent organization, called International Justice Mission, that works with local governments to free slaves around the world.
[3] See John 14:6.
