In the heart of the Garden of Eden, where everything seems perfect, there is an ancient struggle between freedom and restriction—a struggle we have all experienced.
Once, some visitors came to attend services in our church. At one point, the children of the guests ran to the apple tree in front of the church and started picking and eating. I immediately branded them as unfaithful. It was the Sabbath, and we children knew that under no circumstances could we pick anything on the Sabbath. On the Sabbath we didn’t pick, we didn’t play, we didn’t do anything. In fact, only three activities were allowed: going to church—where it was sometimes quite interesting—eating with the extended family and taking a nap in the afternoon. Under these circumstances, one of the most beautiful moments of the week was the sunset when the Sabbath was over—a real liberation.
Eden was a garden
Eden was a garden, but the devil managed to plant the idea that it was a prison. “Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden’?” (Genesis 3:1) In fact, there was only one tree from which Adam and Eve were warned not to eat. The serpent sought and succeeded in shifting the focus from the multitude of trees they could enjoy to the one forbidden tree. He began to theorise, hypothesise, and preach about a single prohibition. And the first people, who became convinced of this view, forgot that they were in a garden where they could enjoy so many trees. They channelled their worries into “must not”, when the possibilities were far greater than the prohibitions. In this “prison”, God was portrayed as a policeman angry with life, whose only remaining pleasure was to catch someone at the forbidden tree and curse them.
There are so many things you can do on the Sabbath. There are so many opportunities and freedoms that Christianity offers. But in my childhood and youth I was taught that on the Sabbath a state of emergency has been declared and the best thing to do is to wait patiently for it to pass. The gifts that Christ gave to the Church were hidden under the thick fog of legalism. The texts in which Paul speaks of Christian freedom were read only in a polemical tone,[1] eager to show what he did not mean, instead of rejoicing in what he did say. Above all, God was the watchman, because that was what God did—He was watching all the time.
What I wish I had known when I was in my 20s:
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Freedom means control
Of course, the freedom of which Scripture speaks does not mean the absence of all rules. “The truth will set you free,” Jesus said (John 8:32). Truth liberates, but it also imposes conditions. Peter warned Christians to “live as free people, but do not use your freedom as a cover-up for evil” (1 Peter 2:16). The limits of our freedom are given by the inherent limitations of our finite nature. To be free to eat anything is, in fact, to eat those foods that are healthy. Neither Christ, nor Paul, nor any other inspired writer has repealed the divine law. Christianity, the Church and the Sabbath can be seen as freedoms and privileges, or they can be seen as prisons of the soul. Only the Holy Spirit provides the right conditions to live Christianity as true liberation. Without the Holy Spirit, we either get lost in the incomprehensible jungle of rules or wallow in the mire of immorality.
Neither the youngest nor the oldest
The problem, then, is not the existence of divine and natural rules necessary to define our freedom. The artificial, man-made fences, the “no-go” barbed wire in which many parents and clerics wrap children and young people—these are problematic. It’s true that the prodigal son, worldly and libertine as he is, does not find true happiness and fulfilment. But neither does the eldest son, industrious and well-behaved, know much about happiness (Luke 15:11-32).
The Church and parents need to understand that the religion of Christ is not just about preventing children and young people from going out into the world. Staying at home can be seen as hard bondage. To present religion in negative terms, without pointing to the joy of life in Christ, is to do the serpent’s work of drawing attention only to the forbidden tree, and not to speak of and promote the countless freedoms offered by God. The Garden of Eden becomes once again a prison and God a policeman.
Freedom, like love, is learned… the hard way
A human being is born needing love and acceptance. But if people are not taught to love in the years of childhood and youth, they will struggle, even experience pain, later in life. A child who has never been hugged will be repulsed by such gestures. It is the same with freedom. An eagle raised with its wings tied will be afraid of them once they are unfastened. Liberation is not just about leaving the prison space, it is about going through the arduous process of learning to love, to be free, and to fly.
The most difficult thing is to cure people of religious misconceptions. They come in the name of the highest authority—God. Once you’ve been enslaved by rules and restrictions in the name of God, it’s hard to get that out of your head. Christ was brave when He told His contemporaries that the gift called the korban did not belong to God, and that it was more important to take care of one’s parents than to give to God (Mark 7:11-13). Just as much courage is needed today to accept, first for ourselves, and then to tell others, to stop offering sacrifices that are not required by God, and to stop keeping rules that are made in the name of God but are merely traditions made by people.
God called Himself Father
Our fathers and pastors are not to be judged harshly. They had the best of intentions, and certainly no one had taught them that they could be free. Legalistic and ritualistic culture predisposes to spiritual imprisonment. Reading Paul without the exhortations to joy and freedom is no easy task for a legalistic Christian. That is why some Christians do not see God as their Father, but serve Him as slaves.
Now that I am a pastor and have become a father, I understand the challenge of our forefathers. There is a narrow path between permissiveness and tyranny that only those led by the Holy Spirit can find. There are so many joys that God can offer children on the Sabbath. And there are so many wonderful things that Christianity has to offer.
Together with my children, I’m learning what I wished I’d known when I was 20: that God calls Himself Father.
Iosif Diaconu is 42. He is a pastor and a lecturer at Adventus University. When he was 20, he was a theology student who dreamed of convincing God that he deserved the best in this life and the next. Since then, he’s realised that he doesn’t need to deserve anything; everything is already set up for him. Now he is learning to open his heart and receive God’s gifts.
