We use the words freedom and liberty frequently but often loosely and inconsistently. In his new book, Called to Freedom: Retrieving Christian Liberty in an Age of License, Brad Littlejohn clarifies the uses and abuses of these terms and constructs a Christian account of liberty to incorporate its various dimensions. Well-written, clear, and concise, the book should not fail to illuminate and stimulate.
Littlejohn, founder of the Davenant Institute, begins by identifying some paradoxes that provoke the need for such a book. Unlimited freedom is impossible for humans. We’re inevitably in bondage to something. Yet some sorts of bondage are liberating, while others are dehumanizing. Our present culture seeks ever-increasing freedom yet has fallen into some of the worst kinds of bondage. The first chapter thus surveys various conceptions of freedom. Littlejohn aspires to “present an alternative account of freedom that navigates among the various poles.”
The second and third chapters discuss freedom as it pertains specifically to salvation in Christ. Littlejohn first discusses “spiritual freedom,” which Christians receive in justification. He describes justification as a once-for-all freedom from the burden of doing good works to earn everlasting life. He distinguishes such spiritual freedom from the absence of political and moral restraints. Littlejohn then turns to “moral freedom,” the Spirit’s gradual liberation of Christians from bondage to indwelling sin. Here, he gives extended attention to ancient pagan virtue theory, acknowledging both its useful insights and the ultimate vanity of non-Christian virtue.
The remaining four chapters address freedom in various dimensions of broader social life. Chapter 4 focuses on “political freedom.” Here, Littlejohn compares two competing philosophical theories: liberty of political right and liberty of political rights. The former characterized traditional societies that used constraints and incentives to steer their people toward making good choices that furthered the common good. The latter characterizes modern liberal societies dedicated to limited government and individual freedom.
Littlejohn notes strengths and weaknesses of each conception. He also compares the tolerance of early liberals, which still presumed the existence of objective right and wrong, from more recent libertine versions of liberalism that glorify lifestyle diversity for its own sake. Littlejohn advocates a third way of thinking about political liberty: the “liberty of law” or “freedom as self-government.” From this perspective, the real danger isn’t authority itself but arbitrary authority unconstrained by law.
Chapter 5 reflects on freedom in light of modern technology. Littlejohn recognizes the goodness of technology insofar as it brings “the original hidden glories of creation to full expression” and mitigates the curse against sin described in Genesis 3. But we’re prone to seek a false freedom through technology, a liberation from the limits of creaturehood. Littlejohn thinks the digital realm is especially dangerous in this regard. Perhaps worse, biotechnology threatens to transform the purpose of health care from restoring an ailing body to overcoming human nature. Just because we can do something doesn’t mean we should.
Chapter 6 turns to freedom in the marketplace. Littlejohn identifies two competing visions of economic freedom: One focuses on individual liberty (especially for consumers), and another pursues collective liberty for the nation as a whole. He believes most American Christians think of a “free market” as maximizing consumer choices, but he argues that consumerism proves to be a false freedom. He also discusses the enslaving vices of both greed and prodigality, claiming that the “right relation of the Christian to wealth is one of grateful detachment.”
The final chapter considers religious liberty. Littlejohn suspects that our modern intuitions about freedom are most likely to mislead us here. He says Christians have “strong grounds both theological and prudential” to support “generous protections and exemptions for individual conscience claims.” But he warns against turning religious liberty into libertinism or allowing it to weaken the church’s public witness.
To this end, he first describes Martin Luther’s conception of religious liberty, which resembles modern ideas. He then outlines the “classical Protestant theory of religious liberty,” with which he sympathizes. The latter held that civil leaders can’t coerce the conscience but have authority to promote Christianity, support the church, and prohibit false teaching and worship that harm the community—although it’s often wise for leaders not to wield this authority. Littlejohn urges his readers to “get real” about religious liberty and recognize that every society embodies some vision about what is right and wrong.
Littlejohn’s work has a great many strengths. One of its overarching themes might be framed as a choice: Would you rather be inwardly free from bondage to sin while remaining outwardly unfree, or enjoy maximal outward freedom while remaining inwardly enslaved? Consider the virtuous Christian locked in prison for his faith and the “free” American addicted to alcohol, pornography, or shopping. Littlejohn deserves commendation for clearly explaining why the first scenario is preferable to the second.
A related and equally helpful theme running through the book is that a society with many outward freedoms will function well only if its citizens are virtuous, or inwardly free. As Littlejohn puts it, “a free government … depends on a virtuous people.” He notes that citizens capable of governing themselves won’t need draconian laws or ubiquitous policing (chapter 4), that people who are honest in business won’t require numerous economic regulations (chapter 6), and that a community marked by the virtue of tolerance can exist peacefully amid differences when granted religious liberty (chapter 7). Only morally mature people will use outward freedoms well. Outwardly free societies with morally immature people face many troubles. Littlejohn also deserves credit for highlighting these important truths.
Because Littlejohn deals with so many issues that intersect with competing claims about liberty, most readers will probably find themselves arguing with him at one point or another. For my part, I wonder if, in his understandable zeal to expose dangerous false promises in what we typically call the “free market” and “religious liberty,” he has understated the genuine goodness of these freedoms and granted too much authority to civil leaders to constrain them for a nebulous “common good.”
To be fair, Littlejohn seems to assume a readership prone to be naively enthusiastic about free markets and religious liberty, and he wishes to challenge them. Had he envisioned theocratic socialists as his primary audience, his emphases undoubtedly would have differed. Littlejohn also isn’t overly political, in the sense of prescribing specific public-policy positions, and when he does venture into this territory, he ordinarily identifies both strengths and weaknesses of various opinions. Moreover, he states that prudence often advises civil officials not to exercise all the power they have in principle.
That said, it’s worth raising a few issues. On a general level, Littlejohn at times seems to jump from the observation that without certain virtues, people won’t use their outward freedoms well the conclusion that civil officials may therefore legitimately restrict these freedoms. But although the observation is valid, the conclusion doesn’t necessarily follow. On what basis do civil officials have authority, for example, to restrict market transactions or prohibit non-Christian religions for the “common good” when no force or fraud is involved?
Perhaps instructive is Littlejohn’s understanding of civil authorities as “fathers of their people” who ought to “exercise paternal care” for them. There is some similarity between fathers and civil magistrates, but there are also so many differences that it seems dangerous to invoke this analogy as grounds for specific government regulations. For one thing, fathers have extensive authority over even minute details of their children’s lives. On that analogy, civil officials could regulate almost anything. Perhaps even worse, the analogy presumes that citizens are children. This seems to work at cross-purposes to Littlejohn’s oft-stated ideal that citizens be morally mature and self-governing.
We see another reason for Littlejohn’s openness to extensive government authority in his support for the “classical Protestant theory of religious liberty.” He explains this theory as follows: In Romans 13 and 1 Peter 2, God calls civil authorities to punish evil and praise the good (although not, contra Littlejohn, to “reward” or “promote” the good). The natural moral law defines what is evil and good. The Ten Commandments summarize the natural moral law. This means, in Littlejohn’s telling, that civil officials have authority to enforce the “full scope” of the Ten Commandments.
But there’s a problem with this reasoning. The fact that civil officials punish evil and praise the good doesn’t entail giving them jurisdiction over all that is evil and good. What’s more, the natural moral law—what we know about right and wrong from the testimony of nature—doesn’t provide nearly enough guidance for civil authorities on which religion to promote or restrain. The testimony of nature itself doesn’t reveal truths about the Trinity, atonement for sin, the church, and other core matters.
At best, Littlejohn’s belief that civil magistrates may restrain non-Christian worship and proselytizing needs more extensive argument. Could Scripture provide it? One might appeal to the precedent of Old Testament kings under the Mosaic theocracy, which is exactly what many pre-modern Christian theologians did. But since contemporary political communities are not God’s holy people, in redemptive covenant with God, such appeals are highly problematic. Littlejohn briefly glances at these issues but doesn’t really discuss them.
At one point, Littlejohn states that Christians can disregard ungodly rulers when they issue clear commands to transgress Scripture. Yet in other cases, he argues, we can cheerfully tolerate them. Are there really no other instances when Christians might justly disregard such rulers? When rulers act contrary to the laws of their own community, for example, shouldn’t citizens commit to following the law instead?
Littlejohn himself, when discussing political freedom as liberty under law, appeals to the classical notion that law should be consensual. In other words, it ought to emerge from “time-tested customs and communal practices, unwritten laws that written laws should respect.” This is indeed a noble idea. But if we take it seriously, it requires the people to have a great deal of independence to forge their own ways of life, which entails corresponding limitations on civil authority. It would have been interesting to see Littlejohn develop this theme and reflect more on its implications.
Even if Littlejohn’s conception of the extent of civil authority needs further defense, his larger perspective on Christian liberty is solid, insightful, and sometimes eloquent. Called to Freedom usefully clarifies the issues at stake, even if it doesn’t settle all of them. It should stimulate, but not end, important discussions on what it means to be free.
David VanDrunen is a professor of systematic theology and Christian ethics at Westminster Seminary California. He is the author of Politics after Christendom: Political Theology in a Fractured World.
