Freedom: a glorious and tantalizing word, universally loved, sought after, sloganized, sung about, and fought over. But when was the last time any of us paused to think through what it means? Is it a right, a gift, a choice, a responsibility, a conquest?

Most definitions of freedom focus on what the Russian-British philosopher Isaiah Berlin referred to as “negative liberty”: we are free when no one and nothing is constraining or coercing us. No one is preventing us from doing what we want, and there is no physical law that restricts us. Considerations of this kind of freedom often focus on gaining freedom in liberation from slavery or restraint.

Thoughts of freedom draw us to nature – we think of the freedom of a soaring bird, the freedom of escaping to a mountain wilderness, with all its sights, smells, and sounds: the natural wonders of God’s creation. It’s a beautiful picture of a form of freedom. But is it the best expression of the freedom God intends for us? Yes, birds can fly, nature seems carefree, but animals and natural phenomena are equally bound to harsh cycles of cause and effect, food chains, and the universal laws of nature.

Is freedom the same thing as technical power, power over creation? Marvels of science and engineering conjure a kind of freedom – we harness water, wind, and fuel for electricity, telecommunication, flight, space exploration, computing networks, and most recently AI. But too often our technical power leads to a kind of slavery: we become addicted to our devices. If we outsource too many tasks, and even creative endeavors, to our technology, aren’t we in danger of losing our own ability to do those tasks ourselves, and thus of limiting our freedom even as we think we are expanding it?

Others think of political power: for instance, the great American experiment of a free republic. We certainly enjoy many protected freedoms, and those who wrote the Constitution were inspired by the ideal of freedom, which we are still fumbling to grasp. Yet freedom gained from political power is fragile and limited: all governments struggle to align their laws with true justice; all politicians are subject to the corrupting power of money.

Power and freedom, then, are related. But they are not the same.

Negative liberty, “freedom from,” is important. So, too, is freedom in terms of political rights. But what Berlin called “positive liberty” is equally important. This “freedom to” is our internal power to act – to act according to reason and according to the good. This kind of freedom has been called virtue. Yet even this does not fully illuminate the nature of freedom.

It’s time to turn to the Bible.

“It is for freedom that Christ has set us free,” the apostle Paul writes (Gal. 5:1). This statement almost deifies freedom – Jesus sets us free for freedom. What is this freedom that seems to be an end in itself? We know that we are made for God himself. And therefore this freedom – the freedom that Paul describes – must be an aspect of God’s nature, and because of that, an integral part of his design for humanity bearing his image. Paul continues, admonishing the Galatians to “stand firm … and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.”

Freedom from slavery is the story of God’s chosen people. “Let my people go” formed a new nation devoted to God (Exod. 5:1). With vivid, dramatic instructions, God used Moses to lead his people out of slavery in Egypt and into a new life as a free people. He wanted to relate to his people in freedom, so he set them free.

Being set free from external slavery is only the beginning, though. Freedom demands that we make choices. And the freedom that God wants for his people is their voluntary allegiance. More than voluntary: he wants our delighted and loving allegiance, trusting in his goodness and being true to the spirit of his commands. It is for this relationship that he gave us free will.

The opening of the Book of Genesis shows that God created us to do his work in freedom rather than out of blind compulsion or even as the irrational animals do. This is the picture we get when God blessed the man and woman and charged them to “be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it, and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth” (Gen. 1:28).

Freedom is above all things the power to love. And it is not a power we could generate ourselves.

Our original task is one of freedom – we are free to eat of “every plant yielding seed that is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit” (Gen. 1:29). We are free, and that freedom is integral to our task. God gave Adam authority and a corresponding freedom in his first job, to name every living creature: “So out of the ground the Lord God formed every animal of the field and every bird of the air, and brought them to the man to see what he would call them; and whatever the man called every living creature, that was its name” (Gen. 2:19).

But true freedom is not limitless. Just because we have free will does not mean that everything that we will is good. Indeed, the reason we have wills is so that they might be aligned with the good, with God’s own will.

But sometimes, we desire to call good what we want: to take to ourselves the power of naming not just animals, but right and wrong. And right and wrong are not subject to our wills. That paradox pops into focus right in the beginning of the story of Adam and Eve: “The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it. And the Lord God commanded the man, ‘You may freely eat of every tree of the garden; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall die.’” (Gen. 2:15–17).

Our ancestors knew the boundary God had set, but they were still free to break it, and they did: “So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate” (Gen. 3:6).

Even after they were banished, Adam still had his task of choosing, his task of cultivating, his task of naming: “The man named his wife Eve, because she was the mother of all living” (Gen. 3:20).

And God, who gave Adam and Eve full freedom – even the freedom to turn away from him – saw down through deep time to the end of his plan, and responded in love, with an act of loving service that anticipated the sacrifice that would one day make a way for Adam and Eve’s sons and daughters to return to him: “And the Lord God made garments of skins for the man and for his wife, and clothed them” (Gen. 3:21).

This story in itself shows that freedom – the power to choose freely and to act freely, and the importance of using that power in accord with the good – is integral to God’s plan for us as his people.

In the Bible, as in our own time, there is a political aspect to the question of freedom. The freedom of God’s people is a freedom in covenant: a treaty of mutual self-binding that comes with responsibilities.

Thus the covenant between Abraham and God is built on the ideal of freedom. In Genesis 17:2, God says, “I will make my covenant between me and you.” Covenants demand action from both sides. They are not just contracts, but mutual gifts of self. That is why God continually encourages personal, willing participation in the covenant.

There are many examples of this. Right from the beginning, leaders of the tribes and of the smaller groups are freely chosen, not mandated (Deut. 1:13). At every turn, obedience to the commandments involves a free choice, not compulsion. Moses urges the people to choose to do God’s will (Deut. 30:19), and Joshua urges the people to make the same choice. This freedom is, we are told, not absolute independence, but rather a freedom of service: “If it is evil in your eyes to serve the Lord, choose this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your fathers served in the region beyond the River, or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you dwell. But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord” (Josh. 24:15).

The wisdom literature deepens this understanding: we are to “choose” the right way (Ps. 25:12) and “choose” the fear of the Lord (Prov. 1:29). Further, we have the power to reject violence and evil of our own volition (Prov. 3:31). But continuing to make bad choices, this literature reveals, also has a negative impact on the will: the will is weakened as it keeps returning to what has ensnared it before (Prov. 5:22). It is this tendency of the will to enslavement, this tendency of humans to return to slavery, that God has a long-term plan to address.

Thus it is no surprise that the concept of freedom is woven throughout the prophecies about Jesus. In Isaiah’s prophecy about a young leader, the boy’s power to choose between evil and good is the mark of the coming victory against the kings who oppose Israel (Isa. 7:15). And it is Isaiah, too, who declares what that victory will look like: “The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,” he writes in his own voice, which is also the voice of one who is to come, “because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners” (Isa. 61:1).

For Paul, freedom was one of the most important aspects of what it means to follow Jesus and be part of the people of God. In his Letter to the Romans he makes the point that it is not only human beings but all of creation that will be made free with the victory of Christ: “For the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God” (Rom. 8:20–21).

When God is there, he brings freedom: “Whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit” (2 Cor. 3:16–18).

Of all the books in the New Testament, Galatians mentions freedom the most. The motif of slavery and freedom runs throughout the letter. In the beginning, for example, Paul explains that the false believers in their congregation were brought in to spy on their freedom (Gal. 2:4). They did this, apparently, to “enslave” the congregation again.

Then, Paul argues eloquently that all the categories that divide people (including the categories of “free” and “slave”) have disappeared in Jesus. Instead, he says, “you are all one” (Gal. 3:28). All this culminates in his great reminder, admonition, and promise: “It is for freedom Christ has set you free” (Gal. 5:1).

For Paul, freedom did not just mean “I am no longer a slave” or “I am not under the law.” We were not set free from slavery or the law in order to live according to our own best guesses or desires, pleasing ourselves. Instead, this freedom is a whole way of being in the world, one to which Jesus called his people: a way of life. Being born from above frees us from the chains of sin, which function like addiction and prevent us from doing good. Freed from those chains, we are given the power to live the life that really is life: the life of mutual love and service. That power, that virtue, is called freedom. This is why Paul speaks to his flock in Galatia, reminding them what it is that they have been set free for: “For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another. For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself’” (Gal. 5:13–14).

What an amazing paradox. We are called to freedom, but through love we should be slaves to one another. We are not bound to the Jewish ceremonial law, but empowered to live out what it represents: the love of God expressed in our love of our neighbors. The heart of God is to love. Keeping these two great commandments is freedom.

What does Jesus himself say about freedom in the Gospels? Everything. The whole gospel of Jesus, the good news of the kingdom and the way he lived and worked, is a proclamation of freedom. Jesus is portrayed, among other things, as the new and greater Moses, leading his people out of slavery to freedom, delivering them into a land – his kingdom – marked by freedom. Luke’s Gospel recounts the beginning of Jesus’ ministry of freedom, and we hear the words of Isaiah’s prophecy again: “He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor” (Luke 4:18–19).

These verses, Jesus announces, have been fulfilled that day in the hearing of those listening. It is Jesus who frees the captives. He brings freedom. Freedom is a pillar of his ministry. But freedom is precisely the freedom of a new covenant, a new treaty of self-giving and mutual obligation. Jesus’ promise is salvation and grace through his blood. To enter into this covenant, we repent. We believe the good news – that this is indeed the hour of God’s offer of freedom, that Christ did not stay dead. And we are baptized, passing through those waters to freedom as the children of Israel passed through the Red Sea, in the baptism that is the sign of the new covenant as circumcision was of the old. Repent, believe, and be baptized. And then, live the life of freedom, the life in the kingdom. In other words, follow Jesus as your Master, as your King.

Jesus’ ministry is one of healing and exorcism. He thinks of both of these as “setting free” those who are in bondage. In the story of the woman who had been crippled for eighteen years, Jesus’ words of healing are (in part): “Woman, you are set free” (Luke 13:12). When he is challenged on this healing, he makes an argument about freedom – the sickness is bondage, and the healing is liberation: “You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water? And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the sabbath day?” (Luke 13:15–16).

John tells how Jesus heals an invalid at the pool of Bethesda who had lain there for thirty-eight years in hope of healing. Jesus sees his plight and asks him a very important question: “Do you want to be healed?” (John 5:6). In some sense Jesus asks us the same question, in a different form: Do you want to be free?

What is this freedom? We return again to the idea of positive freedom, the freedom to be able to do good. In words at the center of John’s Gospel, Christ speaks directly to the freedom he is offering:

So Jesus said to the Jews who had believed him, “If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” They answered him, “We are offspring of Abraham and have never been enslaved to anyone. How is it that you say, ‘You will become free’?”

Jesus answered them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, everyone who practices sin is a slave to sin. The slave does not remain in the house forever; the son remains forever. So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.” (John 8:31–36)

By its very nature, freedom evades capture by thought or word. Like the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of freedom, it cannot be pinned down. But we know it. We feel it. Freedom is above all things the power to love. And it is not a power we could generate ourselves. We were enslaved, after all: to the devil, to the fear of death, to the weakness of our own flesh, our own sin. But “God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16). Only Jesus Christ can set us free. And if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.