Editor’s Note: Post originally published on July 7, 2025.
Each year on July 4th, Americans pause to celebrate a powerful ideal: freedom. Enshrined in the First Amendment of the Constitution are the freedoms of religion, speech, press, and peaceful assembly. These are no small matters; they’re essential to any flourishing civil society.
But beyond fireworks and parades, deeper questions remain. What exactly is freedom? Is it merely the right to do what we want? Or is there something more? What does freedom mean from a Christian perspective, and how do we live it in our daily lives?
Freedom To vs. Freedom From
Our culture often confuses two very different ideas of freedom. The first is freedom to do whatever we want—to chase every desire, express every opinion, follow every urge. Let’s call that negative freedom: the removal of restrictions. But there’s another kind of freedom: positive freedom, which is the ability to choose the good. Not just to act, but to act rightly.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church explains it like this:
“Freedom is the power, rooted in reason and will, to act or not to act, to do this or that, and so to perform deliberate actions on one’s own responsibility. By free will one shapes one’s own life.” (CCC 1731)
Put simply: freedom is not about license. It’s about love.
The Wound of Sin and the Hope of Redemption
Of course, we all know that our freedom is wounded. The Catechism puts it bluntly:
“Man’s freedom is limited and fallible. In fact, man failed. He freely sinned. By refusing God’s plan of love, he deceived himself and became a slave to sin.” (CCC 1739)
Sin tricks us. It whispers, You’re free when you follow your impulses. But we know where that leads: addiction, broken relationships, pride, despair. Yet even in that brokenness, God does not abandon us.
In Christ, we discover what true freedom looks like:
“In him we have communion with the ‘truth that makes us free.’” (CCC 1741)
And Jesus doesn’t mince words:
“I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” (John 14:6)
John Paul II: Freedom Anchored in Truth
Saint Pope John Paul II, in Redemptor Hominis and Redemptoris Missio, tackled this very issue. He reminds us that the Cross is the fullest expression of divine love. The redemption Christ won for us is the restoration of freedom—not freedom from suffering or sacrifice, but freedom for love and truth.
“He and he alone also satisfied that fatherhood of God and that love which man in a way rejected by breaking the first Covenant…” (Redemptor Hominis, 9)
Freedom is a gift, but it must be received rightly:
“Freedom is only a gift if one knows how to use it for everything that is true good.” (Redemptor Hominis, 21)
In short: Freedom finds its fulfillment not in self-expression but in self-gift.
Wrestling with Freedom in Daily Life
I don’t write these reflections as someone who’s mastered the art of holy freedom. Quite the opposite. I wrestle daily with control, pride, and anxiety. My OCD has often convinced me that peace lies in organizing my inbox or cleaning the kitchen to perfection. And for a brief moment, that illusion holds. But inevitably, my self-made “freedom” crashes against reality. Usually, it’s in the form of a diaper blowout or a child needing my attention.
When my comfort is disrupted, I’m forced to choose again. Will I insist on my version of freedom? Or will I surrender?
Confession has been a powerful reset for me. So has the Eucharist. Grace doesn’t magically remove my tendencies, but it does remind me that I’m not alone. And that I don’t need to save myself.
Discernment: Choosing What God Wants
Living in a culture of endless options can leave us paralyzed. Sometimes freedom feels like a burden. Too many roads. Too many doors. But Catholic spirituality gives us a compass: discernment.
Discernment, as St. Ignatius of Loyola taught, is about listening. Clarifying, not inventing, what God is already inviting us into. His Spiritual Exercises culminate in a radical prayer of surrender called the Suscipe:
Take Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and my entire will…
It’s not a sentimental gesture. It’s a battle cry against the tyranny of self-will. It’s the only sane response to the insane love of God who gave us everything, including the freedom to reject Him.
As Amy Welborn explains, Ignatius believed love is better shown in deeds than in words. True love involves a mutual exchange of gifts. The Suscipe is a prayer of detachment from anything that would keep us from living in total communion with God. And this detachment isn’t just for monks and nuns. It’s for every soul God made—parents, teachers, artists, mechanics, children.
When we pray this way, we’re not forfeiting freedom. We’re finally using it well.
Mary: Model of Free Surrender
One of the most beautiful images of holy freedom is the Virgin Mary at the Annunciation. When the angel Gabriel presented God’s plan to her, she paused, asked a clarifying question, and then said the most earth-shattering “yes” in human history:
“Be it done unto me according to thy word.” (Luke 1:38)
St. Josemaría Escrivá reflected on this moment, writing:
“This is the fruit of the best freedom of all, the freedom of deciding in favor of God.”
Mary didn’t choose ease. She chose love. She shows us that the highest use of freedom is surrender, not in defeat but in trust.
True Freedom Begins with Christ
There are two extremes we must avoid. One is the belief that we can save ourselves by sheer effort—Pelagianism. The other is presumption, the belief that Christ will save us no matter what and our choices don’t matter. Both are lies.
The truth is that we are free. And Christ, in love, respects our freedom enough to invite, not coerce. As John Paul II said:
“Faith demands a free adherence on the part of man, but at the same time faith must also be offered to him.” (Redemptoris Missio, 8)
That means each moment, each decision, each act of love or resistance to sin becomes an opportunity to use our freedom well.
It also means that freedom isn’t found in escaping our limits. It’s found in choosing the good, even when it’s hard. Even when it costs.
A Prayer for the Journey
So what do we do with our freedom? We offer it back to the One who gave it. As St. Ignatius prayed:
Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty,
my memory, my understanding, and my entire will,
all that I have and possess.
You have given all to me.
To you, O Lord, I return it.
All is yours; dispose of it wholly according to your will.
Give me your love and your grace, for this is sufficient for me.
– St. Ignatius of Loyola
This is not a prayer of defeat. It is a declaration of trust, hope, and love—the freedom that only Christ can give.
