Bend & Brake (3.12.25)
The Paradox of Agency, Part III
Recently, I’ve been exploring the paradox of agency: how exercising freedom entraps us (“Beast of Burdens”) because we are subjugated by our desires (“Burdens of the Beast”). How can we break free of these restraints? Given that expectations oriented around my own desires lead to disappointment (in myself, when I fail), resentment (of others, when they fail me) and anger (at the world, when it fails, period), would things be different if my expectations were grounded in something other than myself? But if so, what?
In January, I wrote about how truth, beauty and goodness are distorted when we seek to master those qualities, rather than allowing them to master us. As with the paradox of agency, honoring these ideals requires us to allow space for something that is beyond (i.e. which transcends) our experience. For me, this points to God – or more specifically, to a God who desires a personal relationship with me; accepts me, flaws and all; wants me to have deep joy, peace and security; and is recklessly sacrificial in his love for me: in other words, a father.
You’re skeptical. You ask: doesn’t saying “God is the answer” simply replace one set of expectations (based on self-directed desire) with another (i.e. rules and regulations for better living)? And you would be right: to follow rules expecting it to yield a better outcome is to change nothing at all. Such an approach inhabits the same underlying transactional syllogism that “if I do this, then that will happen”. In that incarnation of God as answer, the enslavement to self is as real and powerful as in any other, and it can be a cruel master.
But that is not what Christ offers. He does not say: follow my ways and you’ll get what you want. He says: no matter how we try, we can’t work our way to the better outcome. The sickness of our hearts is such that we will always be enslaved, so long as we rely on our own effort, or seek our own ends. Beast, and burden, are inseparable.
Yet, he reassures, in desiring him, and only him, we can be free. In fact, he both refers to himself as the truth and states that this is a truth that sets us free.
But how? What is this truth?
The first liberating truth is that we are free from the weight of our own expectations because our worth is not established by our work or achievement. Rather, our worth is validated by Christ, who considered us so precious that he surrendered his life to redeem us. Work is important, but not for its’ own sake: it is important because through our struggle with work we can improve our understanding of God’s nature: how work lends purpose, and how to better serve others through work.
A second truth is that we are free from the transactional mindset defined by expectations of others (“If I do this, you must do that”) or of life (“If I am good, it will all work out”). Christ is the antithesis: he gives his life for ours without expecting anything in return, liberating us to approach life free from the shallow mentality that is constantly calculating our due.
These truths work together to complement a third truth, which is that we are free from our expectations of society, which is essentially hope misplaced in flawed, transactional, people – i.e., ourselves. Instead, we trust God to get it right in the end, knowing Christ redeems us in spite of our willfulness, our apathy, and our role in breaking the world. This does not make us passengers. Not at all. This truth is an encouragement, because it means our hope is secure. Wrapped in that security, we are gripped no longer by the hideous vanity that it is “up to me to change the world”.
It took me a long time to understand this, but once I did, I chose to bend my knee, submitting to him rather than living in thrall to self. Not to follow rules to earn my freedom, but to follow his example in gratitude, because he purchased my freedom with his own life.
Well, I suppose that sounds nice. Actually it is quite hard, in practice, to put the brakes on the old life. But by grace, I have a perfect example to follow.
- J
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I've never been religious or even a believer. But I have always tried to follow my heart. As I look back, I've mostly succeeded. But I could never call myself an atheist, since so many who do seem to feel that religion is the root of all evil. (Someone once wrote on Twitter, "I'm going to arrange all the Richard Dawkins books on my shelf in condescending order.")
What I do feel is that religion is first and foremost an affair of the heart and, as I implied, I believe in following your heart.