When pummeled by too many thoughts a long walk would cure me of the punch-drunk feeling of lifelessness. The normal route led along open fields, and not infrequently I would see a man walking his four Kerry blue terriers. These were amazing dogs. Bounding energy, elastic grace, and electric speed, they coursed and leapt through open fields. It was invigorating just to watch these muscular stretches of freedom race along. Three of the four dogs did this, I should say. The fourth stayed behind and, off to the side of its owner, ran in tight circles. I could never understand why it did this; it had all the room in the world to leap and bound. One day I was bold enough to ask the owner, “Why does your dog do that? Why does it run in little circles instead of running with the others?” He explained that before he acquired the dog, it had lived practically all its life in a cage and could only exercise by running in circles. For this dog, to run meant to run in tight circles. So instead of bounding through the open fields that surrounded it, it ran in circles.
[…] The mind’s obsessive running in tight circles generates and sustains the anguish that forms the mental cage in which we live much of our lives — or what we take to be our lives. This cage can be comfortable enough; that dog wagged its tail all day long. But the long-term effects on humans can still be pretty damaging. It makes us believe we are separate from God. God then becomes an object somewhere over there in the distance and as much in need of appeasement as praise. This tyrant-god is generated by the illusion of separateness and requires us to live in a mental prison (however lavishly furnished). It makes us believe that we are alone, shameful, stupid, afraid, unloveable. We believe this lie, and our life becomes a cocktail party of posturing masquerade in order to hide the anxiety and ignorance of who we truly are.
— Martin Laird, Into The Silent Land
The above passage really speaks to me. Even after many, many years of identifying myself as a Christ-follower, I know there are various mental prisons in which I still allow myself to be trapped. “It is for freedom that Christ set us free” (Galatians 5:1). What a tragedy it would be to live forever trapped inside a self-imposed prison when Christ has already broken the chains that once bound us.
Of course, true freedom doesn’t always come overnight; old habits of thinking and doing have to be unlearned and new ones learned. I suspect this is the work of a lifetime. Perhaps this is another useful way of thinking about sanctification: the gradual outworking in our lives of the freedom purchased for us by Christ.
