The Fear of Freedom

When the Judge Lives Inside

Perhaps the greatest surprise awaiting humanity beneath the veil is discovering that freedom is not what most people thought it was.

For many of us, freedom was presented as victory over behavior. Freedom meant becoming the kind of person who no longer struggled, no longer failed, no longer desired the wrong things, no longer made mistakes. Freedom was described as moral success. It was described as becoming what God wanted us to become.

Yet for many people, the harder they pursued that freedom, the more imprisoned they became.

The veil rarely begins by teaching people that God has reconciled the world to Himself. The veil begins by teaching separation. It teaches distance. It teaches deficiency. It teaches that something is fundamentally wrong and must be corrected before peace can exist.

The child learns it early.

Something is wrong with you.

Something is missing.

Something is unacceptable.

Something must change.

And once that seed is planted, an entire life can grow around it.

Some spend their lives trying to become acceptable. Others spend their lives trying to become holy. Others spend their lives trying to become successful, disciplined, spiritual, pure, victorious, or worthy. The names change, but the pursuit remains remarkably similar.

Beneath all of it lives a question that often remains unspoken:

What is wrong with me?

The veil thrives upon that question.

It survives because it keeps the question alive.

For a time, the burden appears to come from outside. God is imagined as the judge. Religion becomes the prosecutor. Spiritual authority becomes the witness. Rules become the evidence. Life becomes the courtroom.

But eventually something far more devastating occurs.

The judge moves inside.

A person no longer needs a preacher standing over them. They no longer need a priest, a rabbi, or a religious institution condemning them. The voice has become internal. The accusations continue automatically.

You are not enough.

You should have done better.

You should be further along.

You should be stronger.

You should be different.

You should be more faithful.

You should be more disciplined.

You should be more spiritual.

The internal judge never rests because the internal judge can never be satisfied.

Its standards constantly move. Its demands constantly change. Its verdict is almost always the same.

Guilty.

For many people this becomes so familiar that they mistake it for conscience. They mistake condemnation for wisdom. They mistake self-accusation for humility. They mistake self-rejection for righteousness.

Yet the fruit of the internal judge is rarely peace.

It produces anxiety.

It produces shame.

It produces fear.

It produces exhaustion.

It produces depression.

It produces the constant feeling that life has not yet been properly lived.

The tragedy becomes even deeper because the same system that teaches separation also provides endless explanations for why peace remains absent.

Perhaps God is testing you.

Perhaps you have unconfessed sin.

Perhaps you lack faith.

Perhaps you missed God’s will.

Perhaps you opened a door to the enemy.

Perhaps you are under a curse.

Perhaps you are not surrendered enough.

Perhaps you have not prayed enough.

The explanations become endless.

The result remains the same.

The judge continues speaking.

What makes freedom frightening is not that people wish to behave badly.

What makes freedom frightening is responsibility.

The veil provides endless places to transfer responsibility. God becomes responsible. The devil becomes responsible. Demons become responsible. Circumstances become responsible. Fate becomes responsible. The past becomes responsible.

Freedom removes the transfers.

A human being stands face to face with his own life.

His own choices.

His own words.

His own actions.

His own humanity.

At first this can feel terrifying.

Yet hidden inside that responsibility is something beautiful.

The same freedom that removes excuses also removes condemnation.

Responsibility remains.

Condemnation does not.

A person can acknowledge mistakes without becoming a mistake.

A person can acknowledge failure without becoming a failure.

A person can acknowledge weakness without becoming weak.

A person can acknowledge humanity without becoming condemned.

This is where the Gospel of peace becomes so revolutionary.

The reconciliation was not worked out between God and humanity.

It was worked out within God Himself.

Humanity was not asked to carry one side of the equation.

Humanity became the beneficiary of its completion.

The burden of establishing righteousness never belonged to humanity in the first place.

The veil says: Become acceptable.

The Gospel says: You already belong.

The veil says: Prove yourself.

The Gospel says: The matter is settled.

The veil says: Condemn yourself before God condemns you.

The Gospel says: The accusation has lost its foundation.

This is why freedom often frightens people.

The internal judge has become familiar.

Many have lived with him for so long that they cannot imagine life without him.

Yet the Gospel announces something almost unimaginable.

The judge was never the voice of God.

And once that voice loses its authority, a person begins discovering something that may have been hidden beneath the veil all along.

Peace.

Not because responsibility disappeared.

But because condemnation finally did.

 

The Gospel Revolution  •  Mike Williams Ministries

William Ethan Massengill  •  Michael Lilborn Williams  •  Daniel Thomas Rouse

Published by Audrey Williams