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So we’ve established that taking care of one another is more important than exercising our liberties. I think we’re ready now to talk about the fear of man.
Fear of man is a powerful disincentive to doing the right thing. We know what we ought to do, but we’re afraid of what people will think.
- Looks to me like the group is about to do something we shouldn’t. I should speak up. But I don’t want to be That Person. I’ll just go along.
- What that guy said about his wife is just reprehensible. I ought to take him aside and talk to him about it. But then he might not like me anymore. Hmm. It’s not that big a deal. Probably what he said doesn’t mean anything at all. I’ll let it pass, just this once.
- If I befriend that unpopular person …
- If I criticize what that cool Christian is doing …
Fear of man. It’s a menace.
I suspect that fear of man is the biggest reason that most Christians—most Christians—ignore Christ’s last and most important command. “Go into all the world,” he said. “And take the gospel to every creature.”
But we don’t. Not to the ends of the earth, not to the next state, not to our neighbor, not to the waitress who came right up to our table and started talking to us.
Nobody.
Because we’re afraid. Of them. Even the friendly ones. And especially the ones we already know.
Fear of man. It’s a menace.
But I’ve seen the charge leveled at people who clearly don’t deserve it. Can you see how someone following the clear principles of our passage might be accused of cowardice?
I have a right to eat meat offered to idols. It’s meat. There’s nothing wrong with it. But there’s this guy in the church who doesn’t think I should. So I won’t.
“Fear of man!” they cry. “You’re free! Free in Jesus! Be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage! Do The Thing! Don’t let fear of what that benighted legalist might think stop you from enjoying—celebrating—all that you are and have in Christ!”
Fair enough. But according to our passage, when we say that, we’re not thinking accurately, or precisely enough.
If I refuse the meat because I’m afraid of what someone will think, that’s indeed fear of man, and I need to deal with my soul about that.
But if I’m restraining myself because I care about that brother’s spiritual health—if I don’t want to encourage him to do something he thinks is wrong—then that’s not fear of man. It’s love for my brother.
It’s what every believer ought to do.
So don’t slander that kind of thinking. Celebrate it. Imitate it. Live that way.
Remember what the critic said? “Be not entangled with the yoke of bondage.”
That’s a Bible verse. Galatians 5.1. And it’s true. We ought not to be entangled with the yoke of bondage.
But the Bible isn’t a collection of inspirational quotations to be pulled out and used as ammunition against fellow believers without any understanding of the context.
What’s the “yoke of bondage” we’re not supposed to re-entangle ourselves with? In context (the entire book of Galatians), it’s attempting to earn salvation by keeping the law. Don’t do that.
But you know what else the context says? This verse is at the beginning of a paragraph. If you’ll read through to the end of the paragraph, you’ll find that Paul says, “By love serve one another” (Gal 5.13). That word serve is the same Greek root as the word bondage in verse 1.
Guess what? We’re free from the law, but we’re not free from everything. We’re bondslaves of Jesus Christ (Gal 1.10) (and yes, that thought is balanced by Gal 4.7, but the principle remains).
And, it turns out, we’re bondslaves of one another too. We serve one another. We put our brothers’ and sisters’ needs ahead of our own. That’s what we’re called to do.
How often, when you’re deciding whether or not to do something that believers disagree about, do you stop and consider the effect of your action on the believers around you? How often do you decide to serve your fellow believer instead of your own desire for freedom? How often?
I’m not asking you to be in bondage to the fear of man. If you labor under that burden—and most of us do, at one time or another—then take that burden to the cross and leave it there.
But serve your brother. Love your brother. As Christ has loved you.
Rudy says
You and I have discussed aspects of this subject in the past. Perhaps I should wait until “the end of the matter”, but I have a window of opportunity this morning.
Paul’s admonition to defer to a weaker brother cannot, in light of so many other scriptures, become a convenient safe harbor for que sera sera discipleship. A discipler is not absolved from the responsibility of discipling from weak to strong.
There is a radical difference between deferring to a weak conscience and a wholesale capitulation to that conscience – essentially allowing the weak to dictate interpretation without challenge. Love defers, but love also disciples. Yes, included is self-denial and patience and confidence in the Spirit/Word to effect changes to the praise of the glory of HIS grace. But however good all those are in themselves, without a semper reformanda imperative to increasingly conform our/their understanding to God’s sufficiently and effectively expressed will, discipleship falls short.
Both the weak and the strong (in this context) abstain or partake to the honor/glory of God. That’s great! But there are most assuredly those who abstain/partake for the glory of SELF. Differentiating between the two can sometimes be tricky. Not all abstainers are moralists/legalists/judgers and not all partakers are relativists/antinomians/despisers. But the subsequent admonitions imply that tendency.
Should not our “love” place as much weight on ‘not judging’ as it does on ‘not causing another to stumble’? In my past experience, that part of the passage received scant attention.
Lastly, I can’t help observing that Paul (as an inspired APOSTLE!) clearly interprets/communicates to us God’s perspective on meat, drink, and days. It would seem that should be definitive. Yet still he handles the whole issue with great love for those whose consciences interpret it differently.
In the irony is holistic discipleship.
Paul was humble enough to understand that even Apostolic teaching was not enough to convince some. So also was Christ, the quintessential Discipler. Even He waited for the Spirit to open eyes.
Dan Olinger says
Rudy,
Thanks for your comment! I’ve tried to address this issue in earlier posts; in the previous post in particular I’ve given attention to correcting a misinformed conscience. I did emphasize the individual believer’s responsibility in that regard, but I included the benefit of consultation in that process.
I’ve also noted earlier in the series that we’re not talking about refraining from a disputed activity merely because somebody disagrees with the activity; the Scripture is pretty obviously narrower than that.
Thanks again for the thoughts. Enjoy the day upstairs. :-)
Henry Shirah says
You make a good case for avoiding brethren who are convicted by their own acute sense of conscience and want to spread their view of holiness. No wonder there are many denominations and various groups. Birds of a feather and all that. It does seem that Paul was speaking along ideas of religious practice eg. Idol meat. I am reminded of the attitudes towards women wearing pants or a woman speaking during a business meeting. Interesting how men can make the Christian pilgrimage an ordeal rather than one of joy.
Dan Olinger says
Not my intention to make a case for avoiding them. Unity of the body is a biblical principle (Eph 3). The whole point is that we get along despite our differences, because our unity is empowered by the Spirit.
Henry Shirah says
“Thanks again for the thoughts. Enjoy the day upstairs. ????”
You did not thank me for my thoughts and suggest an enjoyable day for me. That is how wars begin. Equity among the brethren? ????
Oh the pain!
I understand you are a cyclist? Yes?
Dan Olinger says
Rudy’s a pilot. He gets a special blessing.
Was a cyclist. Many years ago. Many miles on Rt 9 in Boston–surviving that is an award in itself–and a lone trip from Boston to Greenville. 1200 miles in 12 days. Wouldn’t do it again, but glad I did it the first time.