No Fear of Condemnation

Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” Romans 8:1 (NIV)

5-greg-1

We are all looking for a verdict. 

We want to be told that we are good enough and that we matter. In other words, we want a verdict that our life is meaningful. We seek that verdict from many places, whether from our work, our relationships, our reputation. We make these things our judges, we ask them if we are good enough, and we let them determine our worth. We place the “condemnation gavel” into the hands of something, but the verdict the world gives us is always, eventually, “Not good enough.” And so, we live in fear, knowing that a verdict of condemnation is coming.

Looking inside for a verdict doesn’t seem to work any better. Too often we take the messages from our screens and the world around us and put the condemnation gavel in our own hands, whether or not we have received an explicit verdict from outside us. A recent issue of New York magazine described people today as “feeling guilty and inadequate at every turn.1 They compare themselves relentlessly to others. They are turned inside out, day after day, by social media.” One person says, “I think my primary emotion is guilt. When I am happy, it only takes moments before I feel guilty about it – I feel desperately unworthy of my happiness, guilty for receiving it out of the pure chaotic luck of the universe.” The author summarizes life today like this: “Merely muddling through, doing your best, seeing friends when you can, trying to enjoy yourself as much as possible, is, according to the reigning dictates of today’s culture, tantamount to failure. You must live your best life and be the best version of yourself, otherwise you’re nothing and no one.” We feel naked and ashamed, and the constant din of our notifications amplifies our insecurities. We are filled with anxiety and doubt and guilt, and we are working harder and harder to convince everybody, including ourselves, that we have it together. This is what condemnation looks like. We don’t need condemnation to come from the outside when we already condemned ourselves.

The Bible says that anything we look to besides God for our verdict is an idol, and idols always let us down, always condemn, and always demand everything from us. We place the condemnation gavel in the hands of our reputation, our career, our looks, our health, our relationships, what our friends think of us, what we think of us – and these idols never fail to hammer in condemnation. The verdict seems to come from within when we internalize what our external idols already tell us. We crave a favorable verdict, but nothing we look to in this world can truly give it. 

This is why the apostle Paul says in his letter to the Romans that in Christ alone the verdict is “no condemnation.” To summarize what Paul already said, the gospel is this: All have sinned, but God freely justifies through the atoning work of Jesus. Sin means we don’t love God with all our heart and soul and mind and strength, but instead we love created things – our reputation, comfort, job, health, romance, or family, even our own opinion of ourselves – more than the Creator. We don’t find our satisfaction in God, but instead we look to idols for our satisfaction. We don’t obey God, but instead we obey our own desires and emotions. We don’t love our neighbor as ourselves, but instead we seek our own good, or we serve others inasmuch as it is convenient for us, or in our interest, or makes us look or feel good. Every single one of us, religious or not, falls short of God’s glory.

But as a gift, God freely justifies, which means “to declare in the right.” Even though we fall short of God’s glory, even though we are sinners, in Christ God counts us as if we aren’t. Think of it this way. Suppose that a student of mine fails an exam and I want to have mercy. I can’t honestly say, “You did great on the exam!” because they didn’t, but I can say, “I won’t count this exam toward your final grade.” Similarly, in Christ, God doesn’t count our sin against us, but instead He counts Jesus’ faithfulness for us. In doing so, God declares that His promises to rescue and redeem His people, to love and bless His people, and to make them a blessing to the world, all apply to us. This is God’s gift to us; we don’t earn it. We were sinners deserving condemnation, but God forgives us and counts us as holy. 

5-greg-2

Paul says that for the Christian there is therefore no condemnation. Paul doesn’t say, “You are not condemned … for now, but if you screw up again you’ll need more forgiveness.” Paul says there is no condemnation. None ever. Jesus bore all of your sin – all of it, past, present, and future – so there is no condemnation and there will be no condemnation. Paul writes, “God has done what the law … could not do. By sending his own Son … he condemned sin in the flesh.” God definitively condemned sin so He will never condemn you. That’s why at the end of Romans 8 Paul can say, “Nothing can separate you from the love of Christ”; that’s why a good summary of the gospel is, “You are more wicked than you could ever imagine, but in Christ you are more loved than you could ever dare hope.”2 Why would God do that?

God gives the declaration “no condemnation” so that we can live beautiful, holy lives. Only in the gospel of Jesus Christ does the declaration of “accepted” come before any acceptable performance; only in the Gospel does the verdict come before it is earned. You won’t find this order anywhere else. In school, if you do well enough on an exam, you get the grade. In traditional religion, if you are moral or observant enough, you get salvation or acceptance. Today, many people reject traditional religion and instead get their identity from being a good person. If you are a good enough person, eventually you get the verdict. If you work enough for justice, you get the verdict. If you express yourself or liberate yourself or accept yourself or find yourself – you get the verdict. As a result, every day is a trial with us in the court working for a verdict.

But in Jesus, Christians get the verdict “no condemnation,” and then the verdict leads to a changed performance. When Jesus rescued the woman caught in adultery, Jesus turned to her and said, “Has no one condemned you?” and she said, “No one, Lord.” And Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more.” Jesus did not condemn her, and only then did he tell her to sin no more.3 Reversing the order loses the gospel. Traditional religion says, “Stop sinning and I won’t condemn you,” and that’s crushing. Modern society says, “There is no sin so there is nothing to condemn,” yet our hearts still condemn us because we know that isn’t right. But Jesus says, “Because I don’t condemn you, stop sinning.” When you have already been forgiven and set free, then love and gratitude become the motivation for obedience. If we must perform in order to avoid condemnation, then we obey out of fear of punishment, or to avoid feelings of guilt, or out of pride – because in pride we believe, “We are not the kind of people who get condemned.” But those who by grace have received “no condemnation” are set free to live beautiful, holy lives out of sheer, grateful love for what Christ has done. 

Nonetheless, our lives are never paragons of beauty and holiness. I lose my temper with my kids, my parents, my spouse. We all struggle in some way. We gossip, we judge others who don’t have it together, we are insensitive, we dismiss people we disagree with. We lust, we covet, we envy. Anxiety, doubt, and temptation rule us. Our lives are not beautiful. Our failures produce panic as we fear what that means – might we not be forgiven? Deep insecurity and doubt arise – might we be condemned?

Paul’s original readers had those same doubts and Paul knew it. Fear creeps in when we forget that in Jesus we are not condemned. That’s why Paul chronicles his own failings and struggles in Romans 7 and then declares, “There is no condemnation.” Paul reminds us that the only one who could ultimately condemn you is Jesus, and he died for you, and he lives for you, and he will not condemn you. The God who created the world – the God of infinite holiness and power, the God whose voice shakes the heavens and causes the earth to quake – looks upon you and graciously welcomes you into his arms. If you have put your faith in Jesus but still feel condemned, then you are still placing the condemnation gavel somewhere, perhaps in your own goodness, your reputation, or how much you are doing for God. 

When we work for our verdict, we think we can be loved only if we aren’t deeply known because being known makes us feel naked and ashamed. But for those who desperately want to be honest and loved, God knows the depths of your heart – all your brokenness and failings – and He loves you more than you could ever hope. For those who constantly feel naked and ashamed, Jesus was shamefully stripped naked on the cross for you to buy your freedom. Jesus took on our guilt and shame and received the condemnation we deserve, so that we can receive the life and righteousness that is his. If you wait for the world’s verdict, you will be in constant fear of condemnation, because the condemnation is guaranteed. But if you receive God’s verdict as your own, there is no more fear.

Our lives do not magically become beautiful when we start to follow Jesus. Life in this broken world is a painful struggle. We continue to do things we are rightly ashamed of. We continue to hurt others and have others hurt us. The world’s condemnation still screams past all our filters. This fractured world is full of guilt and shame and loneliness and anxiety, and we feel that. For Christians, those difficulties do not end, but the condemnation does.

5-greg-3

1 https://www.thecut.com/2016/07/ask-polly-advice-lessons.html

2 Tim Keller has said that in many places. Indeed, this entire article is heavily influenced by his teaching on this passage.

3 See John 8:1-11 for the full story

Originally published in The Williams Telos Issue 14, FEAR 

Written by Prof. Greg Phelan 

My Fathers

I stood in the laundry room with piles of clothes at my feet, feeling my dad’s arms wrap around me and his scruffy beard scratch my forehead as he kissed me, whispering, “I am proud of you.” Hours later, I boarded my Williams-bound plane, my eyes moist with tears and my heart bursting with love for the family I was leaving behind.

I cherished my dad’s words of affirmation because his praise, though infrequent, is thoughtful and meaningful. The development of my relationship with my dad has involved a tension between my high regard for and my fear of him. Even though I’m not “afraid” of him per se, I am intimidated by his intellectual superiority. My recent high school diploma pales in comparison to his numerous graduate degrees. When I was younger, I hesitated to confide in him because I worried about sounding immature. Over time, my dad has shown me through his words and actions that he loves me completely, imperfections and all. We are close now; I ask him for advice and tell him stories about Williams, and he asks me lots of questions.

Even though I see my dad as superior, his love has opened the door for us to have a close relationship. Similarly, God’s love bridges the gap between His perfection and my humanity so that God and I can have a deeply personal relationship. For some unfathomable reason, the indescribable God of the universe desires intimate relationships with human beings, including me. Acknowledging God’s greatness and accepting His love brings me closer to Him. The fact that He is perfect but still loves me makes me want to get to know Him better. Like many relationships, the process of getting closer involves daily communication. I like to write and pray to God, and I listen for His responses as I sit in silence, sing worship songs, or read the Bible. I can interact intimately with God because Jesus’ death and resurrection made a way for me to commune with Him. I do not have to worry about sounding immature when I talk to God because although He is so much greater than me, He will never reject me.

As we grow closer, God’s love and acceptance help me trust Him more. I remember drawing a series of doors and windows in my prayer journal senior year, labeling them with the various colleges to which I had applied. I prayed, “God, have Your way with me. Open and shut doors.” I thought He wanted me to go to Dartmouth, so when I was deferred in the fall of my senior year, I felt angry and confused. Through prayer, God helped me realize that Williams was a better fit for me. There is a verse in the Bible that captures how God can take away something good and give something better. It reads, “Instead of bronze I [God] will bring you gold, and silver in place of iron…I will make peace your governor and well-being your ruler.”1 God took away my potential Dartmouth acceptance, but he was giving me a positive Williams experience instead. When I feared God, I realized that I did not have to be scared of the outcome of my college applications because God knows and loves me fully. My perfect God answered my prayers by giving me otherworldly peace throughout the college process and making it abundantly clear my senior spring that He wanted me to go to Williams.

Even though I fear both my dad and God, their unconditional love invites me to be in close relationships with them. Drawing close to God and fearing Him is a continuous process in my life, just like the apostle Paul instructed to the early church in Philippi, I “continue to work out [my] salvation with fear and trembling.”2

FOOTNOTES:
1 Isaiah 60:17, NIV.
2 Philippians 2:12b, NIV, emphasis added

Originally published in The Williams Telos Issue 14, FEAR 

Written by Sarah Gantt ’23

I know you are with me

I know you are with me.
You know me, and I hate you. 

I know you are with me.
You know me, but you love me.

Darkness, judgment, pain –
I do not want to know you anymore.

I want to know you so much more – 
Source of light, grace, and hope.

I do not know when 
You will mess with my mind,

You know when
I will break your heart,

Or when you will attack 
and tear me to pieces.

And when l will stumble 
and fall into pieces.

And you come chasing after me,
Threatening that I am not enough,
Telling me that I will always fail. 

But you come chasing after me,   
Declaring that you are enough,
Reminding me that your love never fails.

You destroy life
You detain peace
You degrade meaning
Yet…

You restore life
You offer hope
You provide purpose.
So…

I let you in
When you knock.
I let go,
Then you take control.
My heart, mind, and soul,
I submit to you.
And I tremble, 
For I know
You are with me.


We all fear something in this world. I fear failure and disappointing those around me; others fear spiders, heights, closed spaces, the unknown, death, or losing a loved one. Not all fears are necessarily bad, but when we submit to these fears, letting them invade our thoughts and take over our actions, they limit us. Trembling in the presence of these fears prohibits us from loving God, loving others, and spreading the good news of Jesus’ love. When I submit to my fears of failing and disappointing others, I mistakenly attribute my significance to the things I do to please people and please God, rather than center my worth on what He has done and will continue to do for me and this world. When I focus on living up to other people’s expectations, I get caught up in trying to reach a certain end goal and am too distracted to enjoy the process of growth along the way. I am unable to experience God, let alone share those experiences with others.

On the other hand, fearing God means to be in awe and wonder of His greatness and submit to Him. God is greater than everything – He is the omniscient Creator who has power over all things, from spiders to death. Therefore, submitting to Him is freeing and empowering, in contrast to submitting to the limiting fears of this world. Trembling in His presence enables us to experience His holiness, righteousness, and unending joy.

Sometimes I can be so focused on myself and my fears that I forget about the Almighty God who loves and saves. However, choosing to fear God instead of worldly things helps me to remember God’s goodness, power, and hope. When I take time to regularly reflect on my life through journaling, prayer, and sharing with others the ways I’ve been experiencing God, I can see how God is working in and around my life. I can trust in Him.

Fear is among us, but so is He – for whom are you trembling?

Originally published in The Williams Telos Issue 14, FEAR

Written by Christie Yang ’23

Baby Steps

Although creation is beautiful, I sometimes forget that the world is a dangerous place full of uncertainties. I grappled with this unsettling reality during my first Mountain Day experience.

After admiring the picturesque mountains and savoring warm apple cider donuts on top of Stony Ledge, two friends and I began our descent on a relatively flat path. I was walking steadily until the trail began to narrow. It was when I looked down after a quick slip that I suddenly had several realizations. The mountain was higher and steeper than I had thought, and there were wet leaves covering potential obstacles. I started hyperventilating from my fear of heights, and my tears began to blur my surroundings. I gripped my friend’s hand and took baby steps while my panic grew with each additional slip.

As I was gradually being consumed by my worries, a branch cracked under my feet. My ankles sharply pivoted to the right, and I collapsed on the ground. I could not stand up on my own. I felt helpless and worried that my injuries were severe. I wept as I imagined Satan laughing at my struggles and weighing me down with doubt. 

The wind intensified, and the sky began to dim. I desperately prayed to God for any source of help and waited in silence as my friends patted my back comfortingly. My prayers were eventually answered when a few students and the Williams Outing Club director found me. They attached braces to my legs and carried me down the mountain, alternating who carried me every 100 feet. With my arms and legs being lifted by my rescuers, I felt like a physical burden. I responded apologetically when everyone assured me, “You’re doing great.”

After several hours, we safely arrived at the base of the mountain. During the ride back to campus, I called my mom and was disheartened to hear her cry. She became more concerned when I eventually had to be transported to the hospital in an ambulance. Luckily, my bones were not broken, and I would be able to walk gradually with a cane. Hobbling around campus for several days, I realized that I had been taking the ability to walk for granted. 

I was relocated into a temporary dorm with fewer stairs. Being physically isolated from my friends, even over a small distance, made me feel alone and locked in my own reality. I felt more guilt than gratitude when friends visited me, causing me to communicate less with others.

I talked to God about my conflicting emotions during the nights I was alone in my room. I expressed to Him my fear of relying on others and my worries of knowing that my parents were more concerned for my well-being than I was. I felt nervous to ask my friends for favors and potentially disrupt their busy schedules. I wanted an immediate solution, but I continued to struggle on my own because of my stubbornness, and I cried out to God in frustration. 

Then God told me to pause and look beyond myself to the people who love me. I thought about how my family and friends were worried when I brushed off their concerns and lied to them that my life was okay. By isolating myself, I was rejecting opportunities for their help. My fears were a barrier from realizing that the recovery process would be difficult unless I sought out guidance. 

Taking little steps toward Him, I started to accept God’s help that was provided through people’s concerns and compassion. My parents sent me medicine, leg braces, and comforting text messages. My friends supported me when I had the courage to ask – they turned in my assignments, held my hand when walking down the streets, prayed for me, and gave me hugs. Through moments of practicing vulnerability, I learned to walk in trust and deepened my relationships with those who love me. 

I had hoped to overcome my fear as my ankles healed, but my current reality tells otherwise. For simple tasks like walking to class, I am overly cautious, and I walk slowly on slippery sidewalks. Even now, I am still learning to cast my fears on God. When I do, He reminds me that He is with me every step I take.

Originally published in The Williams Telos Issue 14, FEAR

Written by Esther Kim ’23

A Sparrow’s Prayer

α

Above me sparrows chirp,
they chirp like sirens
Hoping to get your attention
What do they say?
God, how can I pray
As fervent and fearless as they?
 
I can hear my grandma saying,
“One offense is all it takes,
For the stony ancestors to sweep us with hurricanes.”
And it did rain.
It rained for days and days,
The waters flooded to our waists,
Until my father’s brown car
And my mother’s golden dowry were swallowed in haste.
– Or at least, that’s what she said.
“You see, the red statues will not hesitate.”
I wish to ignore her, to overlook that ancient coldness
But to be warm, You know that I lack the boldness –

Something wouldn’t let me
The time, it was not yet ready.
Until the waters sedated and settled low
All things covered were shown
Then I woke from a slumber
I thought, I was surely ready for eternity, though –

β

But this weight never does go away,
With every Song I sing it detaches, but still remains
It remains –
I can’t help but wonder, what if you are the same?
As the night grows older
I feel it looming behind my shoulders
Your echoing I cares
They’re leaving me like your breaths leaving my interior
Are you not worth more than sparrows? they whisper,
But how can they in the sky deliver to you their sounds
While now, mine seems only to sink deeper underground?

I have to ask –
Do you care as much about me
As you care about them?
The sparrows, the grey and amber sparrows
Whom you colored and livened with your words.
Or the lilies, the gloriously arrayed flowers,
Into the grasses they so easily merge but do not disappear.
Do you adore me just as much?
But how much does it take you to do as such?
Cleansing me with your blood,
Hearing my heartbeat from under the suffocating mud.
There was my fearful hand,
You held it with yours.
So that the wind, Job’s whirlwind,
And fire, Moses’ bushfire,
Help me stand again in your promised land.
Gently, but with your gentle force,
Bless my spirit and yours –
they shall never ever drift to divorce –

Draw me in, please
Draw in my family
That heat can’t be warmer,
You say, this is my daughter,
With whom I am well-pleased.
I’ve been waiting so long, and finally
To live forever in your stable sanctuary –

After I became a Christian, I did not have all my fears reduced and resolved. In fact, in a sense, I have single-handedly divorced a part of myself that seemingly secured me–my ancestry, my goals for living, my source of explanations. Sometimes, I still wonder about to whom I am praying, who is responding to me, and which “god” people see through me. My inherent fears about destiny, about natural disasters, about inevitable cycles, about divorces and fracturing of relationships, about the arbitrary cruelness of the universe, about being isolated and neglected, were still very much deeply rooted inside, even after those rejuvenating waters of baptism had washed over me. I have realized that as ready as I am for eternity, between then and now still exists a long period of time–my life. And in this life, I still fear being unpolished, unnoticed, unheard, unloved, probably just as much as anybody.

But our God is unique in that He is not a distant God who expects us to somehow achieve perfection; He is the one who guides. I have begun to realize that this hollow part within me is destined to be fulfilled by our Maker, who polishes, notices, hears, and loves us. I am not yet a fearless person, but I have decided that I will not live life in my way, or with any other “gods”–I can only do it with the God whose steady hand patiently holds onto mine, while His perfection overwhelms my weakness.

Originally published in The Williams Telos Issue 14, FEAR

Written by Catherine Chen ’23

Reflections on 2020: Comfort & Joy

Recently, the Williams Telos Board invited members of the Telos community to reflect on 2020 and share their challenges, comforts, and joys. We sent out an anonymous form and created a visual representation of the collected responses.

If you haven’t already, we encourage you to take some time to think about your 2020 and check out this short reflection guide we made centered around the themes of comfort and joy

Graphic created by Sarah Gantt ’23

Loving Temporal and Eternal Things: A Telos Thoughts Reflection

Doris Lee, Thanksgiving, 1935, American, The Art Institute of Chicago.

At our Telos Thoughts meeting on Saturday, November 7, we had the chance to reflect on love and loss. Exploring an excerpt from book 4 of Augustine’s Confessions, we thought about temporal and eternal things we love and how they influence our personal lives. In the passage we read, Augustine acknowledges the dangers of focusing on temporal things but also proposes that temporal things are beautiful parts of God’s creation. Everything will end, but each thing does have its time. When we recognize God’s role in this, loving temporal things can be a path towards embracing creation and God’s magnificence. During our meeting, we thought deeply about how this could guide our appreciation for God and our love of other people. We can acknowledge and embody the infinite nature of God by loving others not only for their presence in our lives, but also because of their eternal spirits as children of God.

“[Temporal] things pass away so that others might take their place, and all its parts together make up this lowly universe: but the Word of God says, ‘Will I ever depart and go elsewhere?’ Fix your dwelling place in him, O my soul; entrust to him whatever you have from this world.”
-Augustine’s Confessions, book 4, chapter 16

Written by Paige Anna Busse ’24

Fullness

Photo taken by Maddie Annis ’23

How will I ever know You
You are everything to me
I feel You in a sweet embrace
In the piercing autumn breeze

How will I ever understand You
So worthy, so grand
Yet You came as a babe to save
And even now stretch out Your hand

How will I ever know enough to love You
As well as You love me
I’m caught up in the infinite
In all Your intricacies

How will I ever be enough
How could I ever
I fail each day and more
Beat down by the wind and weather

How can it be that You see me
Know me and lavish me with Your love
And You don’t worry if I can
For all that I am comes from above

Written by Anna Leedy ’22

Where is the Church?: A Telos Thoughts Reflection

We had a Telos Thoughts meeting on Saturday, October 10 where we listened to an excerpt from episode 2 of Take Me to Church, a podcast created and hosted by Dasol Lee ’21. After reflecting on some questions, we collaborated on a collage of ideas, issues, and themes we wanted the current Church to speak on and engage themselves in.

Created by: Catherine Chen, Sarah Gantt, Joshua Hewson, Esther Kim, Bemnet Mengistu, Andrew Nachamkin, Rebecca Park, Christie Yang

Every other Saturday at 11 am ET, Telos Thoughts meets to engage with a Christian intellectual medium (readings, podcasts, or videos) and reflect on it together. Email [email protected] for a Zoom link to join!

Waking Up Slowly: A Telos Thoughts Reflection

In the morning, I see sunlight

The pillow feels cold on my cheek
But my body is warm under the blankets
No alarm
Just quiet

Glug glug – flushing toilet
Chush chush – brushing teeth
Splash splash – washing face

In the afternoon, I see mountains

The mask feels sticky on my face
But my body is refreshed by the fall breeze
No variation
Just uphill

Thud thud – running feet
Whiz whiz – driving car
Peh peh – breathing runners

In the evening, I see faces

The chair feels stiff against my back
But my body is relaxed among friends
No in-person interaction
Just Zoom

Chi chi – hearing background noise
Ding ding – receiving notifications
Bwahah bwahah – echoing laughter

In the meantime, I see You

Lord, I see you in the sunlight, the mountains, and the faces of my friends. Please awaken me to your beauty and goodness. Thank you, my Sweetness, my Savior, for redeeming the tooth brushing and the Zoom calling and everything in between. Come revive this world, and revive this heart. Amen.

Written by Sarah Gantt ’23