My Chains Are Gone, I've Been Set Free

“Slaves, obey your earthly masters with fear and trembling, in singleness of heart, as you obey Christ.” (Ephesians 6:5)

A few weeks the pastor was working through Paul’s letter to the church in Ephesus, and this was the passage under discussion. To be fair, he explained that Paul was addressing something closer to indentured servitude than the brutal slavery of the American South — more like the relationship between an employer and employee.

But what caught my attention was how quickly he dismissed the common criticism that verses like this make Christianity look like it represents a God who is authoritarian and abusive. To me, that felt like a missed opportunity.

Because the truth is: this verse was used by some Christians to justify treating an entire people group as less than human. Not by all Christians, but enough that the effects still ripple through history. That reality deserves to be named out loud, not brushed aside.

What's the Real Problem?

The deeper problem, I think, isn’t the Bible itself, but the way it is wielded. Biblical literalism — reading every line without context, nuance, or recognition of human limitation — can weaponize Scripture.

Without care for historical setting, or for the fact that biblical authors were imperfect people trying to understand God and one another, a verse can be torn from its life-giving intent and used to harm the very sacredness of people.

That’s where 18th century theolgian Emanuel Swedenborg’s way of reading Scripture has helped me. He saw the Bible as written in layers of meaning. The literal text may address the concerns of its time, but beneath the surface lies a spiritual sense. In that sense, “slaves” and “masters” aren’t about social hierarchies at all, but about the relationship between the outer and inner life: the natural serving the spiritual, the lower serving the higher, all in service of love.

Dismissals All Around

Now, I can already hear some conservatives reading this thinking, “Ah, he’s just another progressive Christian trying to tear down Scripture.” To which I would honestly say: maybe.

And I can also imagine some progressive secularists rolling their eyes at the idea that there might be spiritual insight in the writings of a member of a patriarchal, hierarchical, apostolic system. To which, again, I would say: maybe.

Because maybe the point isn’t to pick a side — conservative or progressive — and declare it right while the other is wrong. Maybe the point is to see the wholeness in humanity, and to recognize that both sides carry gifts and burdens that are essential to the spiritual maturing of people’s souls.

Conservatives preserve roots, memory, and order — the scaffolding that holds communities together. Progressives stretch branches toward the future, imagining what could be, daring to ask questions and challenge the status quo. Both are necessary. Both can become dangerous if rigid or unbalanced. But both are part of the same unfolding story, the same divine work of bringing humanity into freedom, love, and wisdom.

Crossing Tribes

I was raised in a conservative environment where the system felt just, orderly, and right. For a long time, I believed in its fairness and goodness. But over time, I experienced wounding from that very system — moments where the rules that were supposed to protect people instead inflicted pain. And when the harm was raised, when the questions or complaints came to light, the system circled the wagons. It refused to acknowledge the pain it had caused. That refusal created a sense of alienation I couldn’t ignore.

When I stepped away, I found myself in more liberal, progressive communities, searching for spaces that resonated with my growing awareness and the feelings I carried. Those communities offered a gift: the acknowledgment that systems and people can fail, that the pain we carry is real, and that it’s healthy to vent, to express anger, and to hold those feelings safely. I needed a container for my frustration, my grief, my righteous indignation.

But it didn’t take long to see the same patterns emerge in these new circles. Dogmatism still appeared — just in different forms. Just as certain, just as quick to point fingers and label “them” as the problem. And I realized: I didn’t want to stay angry anymore. I didn’t want my heart to be tethered to judgment, even when that judgment felt justified. I wanted that energy to be transformed — to release the anger into peace, into love, into compassion. Not just for the people who thought like me, or who were on “my team,” but for everyone.

The Goal Beyond Being Right

In our zeal to be right, we can sometimes lose sight of the real goal. I’ve seen it in myself and in others: whether conservative or progressive, it’s easy to mistake pointing out what’s “wrong” for actually bringing goodness into the world. But goodness isn’t created by shouting down badness or declaring others irredeemable. It grows when we nurture the light we see — in ourselves, in others, and in the world around us.

This means giving people the benefit of the doubt. It means looking for the possibility that someone’s motives aren’t malicious, even when their actions frustrate or harm us. It’s an exercise in patience, humility, and love — one that often feels harder than winning an argument or proving a point.

Gifts and Burdens: Conservatism

Conservatives carry deep gifts:

• Memory and continuity: They honor the past, keeping traditions, practices, and lessons alive so that communities have roots and stability.

• Order and structure: They safeguard the frameworks — social, moral, spiritual — that allow society and individuals to thrive within healthy boundaries.

• Reverence for wisdom: They carry a sense of caution, teaching that not every new idea is necessarily good, and that some principles are timeless.

But these gifts come with burdens:

• Rigidity: A well-intentioned insistence on order can calcify into fear, control, or resistance to growth.

• Blind defense of the familiar: Sometimes loyalty to tradition overshadows discernment, causing harm to those whose needs or experiences fall outside the norm.

• Resistance to change: Change can feel threatening rather than generative, slowing progress that could heal or liberate.

Gifts and Burdens: Progressivism

Progressives also bring indispensable gifts:

• Vision and imagination: They see possibilities beyond the current state of affairs and dream of a world more just, inclusive, and loving.

• Openness to questioning: They challenge old hierarchies, outdated rules, and harmful patterns, asking necessary questions that provoke growth.

• Energy for transformation: They push forward, catalyze reform, and create space for voices that were previously silenced.

Their burdens include:

• Impatience: The drive for change can become frustration or disdain toward those who move more slowly.

• Arrogance or moral superiority: Questioning systems can slip into condemning people instead of addressing the structures themselves.

• Burnout or disillusionment: The weight of carrying constant change and critique can be exhausting when the world doesn’t shift as quickly as hoped.

Holding the Tension

Both sides are necessary. Conservatives guard the roots; progressives stretch the branches. But the Spirit — the life of love, wisdom, and compassion — is what animates the tree, allowing both to flourish.

When we honor both gifts and acknowledge both burdens, we can begin to move in the world differently. We see that the goal isn’t to dominate or “win” an argument, but to nurture goodness. We can still question, still challenge, and still grow, but from a place of respect and understanding.

Coming Full Circle

I’m finding my way to healing—not by choosing the “right” side, but by recognizing the unity and wholeness in everything. We are all on a journey: some paths take us far from home, others keep us close. Some wander through deserts of doubt, others remain in the comfort of tradition. But every route, however winding, holds its own wisdom.

What gives me hope is that the same Spirit breathes through us all—the breath that animates every set of lungs, the heartbeat that unites every life. This Spirit whispers to us in different dialects, nudging us toward remembrance: of who we are, what we mean to each other, and the goodness we are capable of bringing into the world.

And so I choose not to stand against, but to stand with. Not to seek victory in argument, but to seek fullness in love. My healing comes not from declaring one camp wrong and the other right, but from seeing in both the fingerprints of the Divine at work, patiently guiding us all back home.

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