Inside of Faith
As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received. Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. (Ephesians 4:1-3)
I’ve not often thought of my own imprisonment; I’ve thought of others imprisonment from time to time, but not my own. I’ve thought of Peter, who was freed in the night and led to the city gates by an angel; of Paul, who made a writing career out of joyful sentencing; of John, who deployed disciples from prison before his beheading; of David, who asked to be set free from the internal prison he created. When I think of imprisonment, I sometimes think of these men but never of myself.
I suppose I don’t enjoy pondering the relationship between faith and imprisonment—I’d much rather there be a relationship between faith and wide-open, lush green fields that I can run and dance around in. Existing spiritually seems easier in the open field than behind locked bars.
And yet, usually the open field distracts me and the freedom becomes a hindrance.
The real problem, then, is that I don’t run and dance around much of anywhere, at least not often enough—whether that place of dancing is in the greenest, most lush field or inside a bunch of stacked cinder blocks, if you aren’t dancing anyway I guess it doesn’t matter where faith places you.
And so, I think it matters less about where faith places me and more about how I am in faith. Do I live worthily, humbly, gently, patiently, forbearingly, lovingly, and peacefully? How am I inside faith? When Paul and Silas were imprisoned they began singing and praying hymns and God busted those prison gates wide open; I like that.
