Hiding behind a Thin Veneer of Intellectualism or Why the Mask is Easier?

Not too long ago I wrote about freedom in Christ. I wrote about living a Romans 7 life versus living a Romans 8 life. I claimed that I knew without a doubt that Romans 7 was and is not descriptive of the Christian life. I continue to maintain this, but I would like to define “freedom.”
Paul tells us in Romans 8:1,“There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” This may be my favorite passage in the Bible. I think it always has been. This is because I feel such a massive sense of relief when I read this verse. Do you feel a sense of relief when you read it? If you don’t, I guess I would wonder why.
In a letter to his friend Phillip Melanchthon, Martin Luther advised to “sin boldly.” He wrote, “If you are a preacher of mercy, do not preach an imaginary but the true mercy. If the mercy is true, you must therefore bear the true, not an imaginary sin. God does not save those who are only imaginary sinners. Be a sinner, and let your sins be strong, but let your trust in Christ be stronger, and rejoice in Christ who is the victor over sin, death, and the world.” Perhaps this is the point at which Luther has been most derided and criticized for a pessimistic view of the Christian life. I disagree with this derision. I propose that what both Paul and Luther were saying is that true freedom comes not in a sinless life, which is impossible, but in taking off the mask. When we “sin boldly” we refuse to hide behind the veneers we have created for ourselves. We become at peace with the fact that we can hold none of this together. And we die . . . we die to the life we have tried to create for ourselves.
I propose that freedom is being so sure that “there is therefore now no condemnation in Christ Jesus” that you are willing to let people know your full humanity, sins and successes, joys and failures. It is being so confident of who Christ is that you are willing to step out in honesty toward the call Jesus has for your life.

But I am not there yet and in so many ways, the mask is easier . . .

Since I have been in Springfield, MO I have become pretty comfortable with my mask. I have even flouted it around the seminary I attend. I take some solace in the fact that I can hold a theological conversation or that I can write a good paper. The problem is, I have forgot what freedom looks like. And instead, I once again put on the chains of doctrinal quibbles and religious mandates.
In some sense, these chains are easier. They are comforting. Many days since I have been here I have held tight to these chains. I have accepted them and even thought of them as freedom. Maybe I thought freedom was being recognized for the things I wanted to be recognized for. Maybe I thought freedom looked like the person I thought I should be like. Maybe I thought freedom looked like the person who always seemed to have the right thing to say at the right time, the right joke to use, the right advice, the profound correction for the church or for the people around them. And then once again, I forgot the words of Paul: “Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me” (2 Cor. 11:9). Or better yet, Paul’s definition of freedom in Galatians 5: “For through the Spirit, by faith, we ourselves eagerly wait for the hope of righteousness” (5:5).
What if freedom doesn’t look like the guy who has it all together? What if freedom looks more like the woman pouring the jar of alabaster and crying all over Jesus’ feet? What if freedom looks more like the guy at the cross ripping his clothes crying out, “Save me, a sinner?”
As ministers of the new covenant, we have been told through the words of Paul to the Corinthian church to take our masks off, to stop hiding behind our veils. “But when one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit” (2 Cor. 3:16-18). Paul then goes on to tell us that we have this ministry only by “the mercy of God” (v 1).
The old covenant of Sinai is done away with. It has been completely removed. We no longer live in the bondage of condemnation. We are freed to participate in the “ministry of righteousness” (v 9). And yet, even today, we make people dress themselves up in a bunch of chains before they can enter the church.
I’ve seen people remove the veil before and it doesn’t involve correct exegesis or correct doctrine. There seems to be only two requirements: a humble acknowledgement of the self and an awe before the majesty of God. When one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed. When the veil is removed, no one sees how great we are. No one should ever see what we have done. If someone believes this is what an unveiled face looks like, they are gravely misinformed. When we remove the veil, the people around us should see one thing and one thing alone, the glory of God!
So why do some people keep wearing the mask? Or why do some people think they have taken the mask off when they have really just traded their old mask in for a new one? I think it is because the world has convinced us that the mask is easier. And to be honest, I think in a lot of ways, even though people may claim otherwise, the culture around us is more comfortable with everyone simply wearing their masks and not hindering the mask-wearing joys of someone else. I have become all too comfortable with this in Springfield, MO.