In the Apostle Paul's letter to the Galatians he begins chapter five with this declarative sentence:

"For freedom Christ has set us free; stand fast therefore, and do not submit again to the yoke of slavery."

Ironically freedom is something we are prepared to fight for and if necessary even to die for, but once we have achieved it, we're all too anxious about the consequences of our victory. And we quickly try to define it and confine it, to limit and control it. For the truth is, we don't really trust either others or ourselves to appreciate or handle freedom when we've found it.

What is it exactly about freedom that makes us so uncomfortable?

To find out why it is that freedom makes us squirm, we need look no farther than a story in which we see Jesus Christ himself acting with an extraordinary freedom.

As we enter the scene, we find Jesus on the road from Galilee toward Jerusalem and he happens to be passing through a small Samaritan village. Suddenly their little group is caught up in the heat of racial and religious warfare between Jews and Samaritans, for when the people of that village discover that these Galileans intended to continue their journey the next day to Jerusalem, hospitality is denied. For this to happen in a small village of the middle east in that day and age tells us volumes. It tells us that the conflict between the Samaritans and the Jews had become so serious that normal trade and commerce between these two peoples has entirely broken down. The conflict between the Jews and the Samaritans in those days was as troublesome as it is between Jews and Palestinians today.

Knowing that Jesus will not countenance either racism or anti semitism, the disciples urge Jesus to literally fight the fire of prejudice with the fire of God's almighty wrath. They suggest that the power of God's wrath might be invoked against the Samaritans for denying hospitality to their small band of pilgrims. "Lord, do you want us to bid fire come down from heaven and consume them?" It's clear the disciples had in mind something quite like our Fourth of July celebration. Only it would not be fireworks rising up toward the heavens, but the lightening and fire of almighty God raining down upon the helpless people of that small Samaritan village. Without hesitation, Jesus turns upon the disciples and rebukes them for daring to suggest such a thing. And without stopping to debate the issue further, they continue on their way.

It's at this point that there ensues a wonderful, moving, poetic exchange between Jesus and the disciples that is so revealing about how Jesus understood and experienced his own freedom.

It begins when a stranger approaches and offers to follow Jesus, in fact he offers to follow Jesus where ever he will lead. And contrary to what we might expect, Jesus does not accept the man's offer of total devotion. Rather he utters these beautiful words which are all the same very sad. "Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the son of man has nowhere to lay his head."

Think about that one for a minute. It gives us just a clue of what it is about freedom that makes us so uncomfortable. Here Jesus is speaking of course not so much to that man who offers to follow, but to the disciples, and to the experience of being rejected by the people of that little Samaritan village. "The Son of man has nowhere to lay his head." In one sense Jesus was being literal here. Having been essentially barred from staying for the night in that little village, Jesus and his group will have nowhere to lay their heads. But in a deeper sense Jesus is speaking about the terror of loneliness that attends our freedom. For if freedom is being cut loose from whatever shackles that tie us down, freedom also means doing without those ties to community and family and friendship circles that make us feel part of something larger than ourselves. This is the shadow side of freedom which Jesus understood so well, for he had chosen to live without either the benefits or the bonds of marriage, family, children, or career. He moved like the wind through the villages of his native land, never stopping to make a home or build enduring relationships with people or any particular place. He was utterly free -- and very much alone.

At the root and heart of the matter freedom makes us uncomfortable because it reminds us of our isolation, our loneliness, our lack of connectedness to anything comforting in this world.

Freedom is scary because it puts us in touch with our vulnerability. They say for example that there's nothing quite as exciting as skydiving. Diving out of the open door of that little airplane to descend free fall through the heavens. Down, down toward the earth, the feeling of utter freedom and exhilaration is so amazing, and so mixed with fear of what will happen if the parachute does not open.

Which is not all that different from sending your child off to public school for the very first time, or better yet, seeing your daughter head out the door on a date with her first serious boyfriend. Clearly freedom is sometimes scary, to say the least. For it's frightening to think what can happen when a person is truly free! And then the gospel writer takes the discussion to an even deeper level. For yet another person comes up to Jesus offering to follow wherever he might lead. This time the potential disciple has just one reason for delaying the hour of decision: "Lord, let me first go and bury my father, who has just died." But Jesus turns upon him as he has just turned upon the disciples: "Leave the dead to bury their own dead." And another comes up to him, offering to follow wherever it is that he may lead. And this one too has just one request: "Let me first say farewell to my family." And Jesus turns for a third time and says: "No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God."

Clearly Jesus is very much in touch here with the down side of freedom.

To cut oneself loose from all the bonds and loyalties, to country and people, to family and friends, all in the name of being free, this is scary indeed. In fact, one might easily draw back from freedom and turn again to slavery of one kind or another. One might prefer commitment to ones family, and binding ties to one's people, to home, to job, to career, rather than accept this gift of freedom.

But the thing is unless we accept God's gift of freedom, we will never become who we are meant to be. If the child never ventures beyond the comforting walls of hearth and home; if the adolescent does not cut the ties and head on off into this dangerous world to chart his or her own way; if we as adults cannot at least for one small moment cease trying to live up to the expectations of others, and claim our freedom, we can never mature, and grow.

In this world everything to which we may become attached requires that we sacrifice our freedom.

That's certainly true of government, which taxes our paychecks, and passes laws that circumscribe our very comings and goings. That's certainly true of family...in fact taking on the responsibilities of a family requires perhaps a larger sacrifice of one's freedom than almost anything I know. Not to mention the freedoms that we sacrifice to much lesser things. Like houses and cars and furniture, and all those possessions that end up taking possession of us. In this world anything that we grow to love, eventually ends up costing us a measure of our freedom.

That's the one thing that distinguishes our relationship with God from every other relationship. This is what Paul understood when he said: "For freedom Christ has set us free." For God grants us our freedom unconditionally, without merit on our part, and without restriction as to how we may use it.

God is the great emancipator of our souls. The only one who can truly set us free.