Man Is Free But Enslaved to Sin
Man is free, and nothing he can do will change that, except to die. Every significant advancement in human thought has come when man stopped erring in his cognition—such as once believing the Earth was flat—and instead began to see reality as it truly is. This shift in recognition grants man the power to predict and manipulate nature, sparking what we now call the Scientific and Industrial Revolutions.
Man has learned to command nature only by obeying it, yet he refuses to apply this principle to himself. As Francis Bacon put it, 'Nature, to be commanded, must be obeyed.' But man resists this truth when it comes to his own nature, believing that others—perhaps even himself—must be ruled by force. This error, this sin, is the root of all our frustration, and correcting it is the key to our collective salvation.
While the natural freedom of man is the ability to act in accordance with his true nature, this freedom is not without boundaries. When abused or distorted, it begins to unravel the very fabric of society, leading to consequences that harm not only the individual but society as a whole. This rejection of natural law inevitably results in a breakdown of the moral order, as freedom becomes enslaved to greed, manipulation, and falsehood.
Some may object by pointing to humanity’s history of using power and wonder why man is so intent on wielding it—both against his fellow man and against nature itself. The resolution to this paradox lies in understanding that man has never truly wielded power. Instead, he has lived in sin, suffering the consequences for it. Justice, in this sense, is never suspended; it merely waits to be acknowledged. The thief may believe they have gained, but in truth, they have destroyed their right to ownership. The liar may evade truth momentarily, yet forfeits the trust that makes relationships meaningful. The murderer may think they have removed an obstacle, but they have created a void—a world with one less whole and happy person, an emptiness they must now inhabit. Those who manipulate laws or political power for self-protection weaken the very institutions they depend upon. In each case, injustice unravels itself, not through external punishment alone, but through the natural decay of the soul that commits it. The pursuit of power over others seems to offer control, yet it deceives its wielder, ensnaring them in paranoia, distrust, and isolation. No one cheats justice; they merely live in denial of the fact that they are suffering the consequences of sin.
This destructive cycle leaves humanity in a precarious position, where the very freedoms we hold dear threaten to become instruments of our undoing. It is only by embracing truth, justice, and responsibility—rooted in natural law—that man can hope to regain a freedom that nurtures rather than destroys.
We do not need Bills of Rights or permissions to flourish. We need only to stop trying to control one another and stop living by lies. If we return to reality and commit ourselves to discovering the truth about the nature of things—especially the truth that man is free and must live by truth—then we can cast aside every form of government and system built on coercion and deceit. Only then will we be truly reunited with the world and its people, a world that feels so distant from us now.
The truth about man’s freedom is self-evident, and no one can argue against it without first assuming its premise. If a tree could speak and began questioning whether it was free to think, the very act of thinking would prove that it was. Cognition and consciousness are facts of nature, serving as means of identification.
What is painful, however, is that man is free not only to think well but also to think poorly—or worse, to avoid thinking altogether. Even more dangerous is his ability to act in ways that harm others. Those who make errors in cognition will suffer the consequences of those errors, though the exact form of those consequences cannot always be predicted. Just as misjudging nature carries unpredictable risks, so too does misjudging reality in human affairs.
In general, the more arrogant and proud—or the more cowardly and impotent—a man is in his errors, the greater his suffering, regardless of his intentions. Boldness and caution alike must be paired with wisdom, for without accurate identification of reality, both lead to destruction. If one man accidentally bumps another, a simple correction suffices. But to strike another with intent escalates the response. Worst of all is to treat a man as though his life, his path, or his property are of no consequence—to degrade him to something less than human, like wood or cattle. This offense, if not corrected, leads inevitably to death, whether by the victim who accepts the denial of his agency as right or by the oppressor who is rightly put to death in self-defense for denying such agency. This is the sin, the error, described in holy books that results in death.
Sin, in this context, can be understood as the rejection of reality—an attempt to wield control not over the world itself, but over one's perception of it. By refusing to acknowledge the truth, we seek to shape our experience, believing we can alter reality by simply denying it. This delusion is most apparent in the way we attempt to wield power, whether over others or nature. A person who seeks to manipulate or dominate may, in the short term, believe they have achieved their desired result—be it wealth, control, or security. However, what they have actually achieved is a distortion of their own perception. Power over others may feel real, but it is built on the shaky ground of self-deception. It’s the same as closing one’s eyes to a truth that cannot be erased by mere ignorance. Just as a man can shut his eyes to avoid seeing the world as it is, so too can he choose not to hear, not to think, or not to identify. But this is not a victory over reality; it is a defeat of the self. The reality that one denies still exists—it does not bend to our will—but the denial itself creates a feedback loop of self-deception. The more one denies, the more disconnected one becomes from the world as it truly is, and in this disconnection, one ceases to live fully. The choice to reject reality, to close the eyes of the mind and spirit, is a choice not to be, not to live. It is, in essence, the choice of death. In this way, the wielding of power over nature or others is not truly a power over the external world, but a reflection of the inner war—a war waged against the self’s ability to engage with reality and, by extension, to live in truth.
This justice is the unchanging law of nature, operating at all times and in all places, whether man acknowledges it or not. Those who recognize it live with greater happiness, less frustration, and stronger relationships with powerful and peaceful men. Those who deny it live in paranoia, fear, and alienation. Today’s world is filled with those who ignore man’s true nature—and this, more than anything else, is the source of our collective anxiety, fear, and unrest.
It is a profound realization that not a single major college in the Americas or Europe today teaches this self-evident truth, that man is free and must think in order to live. Instead, they recycle the ideas of the past, assuming that students will retain just enough independent thought to remain compliant or just enough to seek power over the compliant. The result—whether by design or neglect—is that some students will surrender to power, seeking to be ruled, while others will pursue power, depending on the submission of the former. This isn’t to say that people are either wholly compliant or wholly coercive. Most answer to someone, and those who are ruled often seek to rule others in turn. This is the inevitable result of assuming that power over others is practical—people become both its instrument and its victim, perpetuating a cycle of exploitation with devastating consequences.
Neither group aspires to be the independent thinker who engages with reality and generates original ideas. Both will claim to value innovation, productivity, and creativity, yet neither will be able to produce or command them. Why? Because they fail to respect the source: the mind that humbles itself before reality and refuses to be swayed by faulty reasoning or misguided identification.
Their egos find relief in the rarity of such a mind, sparing them frequent exposure to their errors. But for their survival, it is a tragedy—because when their errors demand correction, such a mind will not be there to save them. They are doomed to spend their lives like a man who, given a powerful piece of technology, reduces it to a mere doorstop. Such is the image I get of the wasted minds of the masses.
If the root of our suffering is intellectual servitude, then the path to freedom is the disciplined practice of independent thought. Writing is the most direct way to achieve this. If I had to give one piece of advice to anyone who wishes to break free from this cognitive disease, it would be this: write daily for 20 minutes, five days a week. In this post (here), I provide a prompt to help you begin. Start by writing about what you least want to think about—this will clear your mind of fears, worries, and unresolved trauma that might cloud your thoughts. Once you have freed yourself from these burdens, you will be open to exploring deeper questions in art, science, and the society of man.
For further discussion on the nature of truth and the task of cognitive repair many are in desperate need of, check out the publications page of the College of Cognitive Repair here.
Man Is Free
The claim “Man is free but enslaved to sin” can be interpreted through the lens of the essay as follows:
Man, in his essence, is free because his very nature as a thinking, conscious being is a form of freedom. He has the ability to engage with reality, make choices, and exercise his will. This freedom is an inherent quality of human existence, as the essay asserts: "Man is free, and nothing he can do will change that, except to die." The freedom to think, act, and shape one’s life is self-evident and a fundamental part of what it means to be human.
However, this freedom is complicated by the concept of sin, which is described in the essay as the "rejection of reality" or the "denial of truth." Sin, in this context, represents a misalignment with the truth and natural laws of reality. When man chooses to act in ways that distort or deny the truth—whether through deception, manipulation, or self-deception—he becomes "enslaved" to those errors. This enslavement is not a physical or external constraint but an internal one: the mind becomes imprisoned by falsehoods, illusions, and distortions of reality.
The essay highlights that when man errs in his cognition or fails to live in accordance with truth, he suffers the consequences of these errors. These consequences are not just external, but they also affect the soul, leading to a loss of clarity, peace, and true connection with the world. As the essay puts it: "Sin... is the rejection of reality—an attempt to wield control not over the world itself, but over one's perception of it." By denying reality and truth, man forfeits the fullness of his freedom, becoming enslaved by the very misconceptions he creates.
So, the claim “Man is free but enslaved to sin” speaks to the paradox of human existence: while man has an inherent freedom, his freedom can be shackled when he chooses to live in error, deception, or denial. This leads to a distortion of his experience and, ultimately, a life that is marked by suffering, disconnection, and alienation. Freedom, in this sense, is found not merely in the ability to act, but in the alignment of thought and action with truth.
Afterword: The Ultimate Choice—Life or Death
In reflecting on the essence of human freedom and its consequences, we must recognize the profound choice before each individual: life or death. This is not merely the passage of time or a choice between two equally viable paths, but rather a stark decision between living in harmony with nature, humanity, and God, or choosing separation, betrayal, and death. To choose life is to align oneself with the truth—acknowledging God as the Creator and the Source of all life, understanding our responsibility to one another, and living by the natural laws woven into the very fabric of existence.
The ultimate betrayal of God, then, lies in the attempt to reject Him while still seeking to exploit the world and others for personal gain. It is an act of profound moral theft: to dishonor the Creator while enjoying the benefits of His creation. This is not a simple act of defiance but an audacious attempt to usurp His place, to live as though one can deny God’s sovereignty and still thrive in His world. Such actions, whether consciously or unconsciously performed, break the natural order, creating an imbalance that reverberates throughout the individual and society.
Justice, in this light, is not merely the punishment for wrongdoing, but a reflection of the natural consequences of such betrayal. It is a divine reckoning for those who seek to live in opposition to the truth. To attempt to steal from God—whether by exploiting His creation or by seeking power over others—is to attempt to distort reality itself, to live in a self-deceptive lie that ultimately leads to destruction. It is not just a violation of law, but a violation of the very relationship between man and the Creator.
The true justice of this betrayal is seen in the breakdown that follows. It is not merely separation from God in a distant or abstract sense, but a natural punishment—an unraveling of the soul itself. The more one rejects God's truth, the more disconnected one becomes from reality. This self-deception leads to suffering, distrust, and alienation. The consequences of such actions are both external—manifesting in relationships and society—and internal—affecting the soul and the individual's capacity for true life.
In the end, the greatest justice is the recognition that one cannot live in opposition to the natural order of the universe without paying the price for it. It is a justice that is woven into the very fabric of creation, one that holds not only to the actions themselves but to the heart behind them. The attempt to live as though God does not exist, to steal from Him while claiming autonomy, is a betrayal of the highest order, and the price of this betrayal is nothing less than spiritual death.
Thus, the path to freedom—true freedom—is found in acknowledging the truth of our existence, in living in accordance with the Creator's design, and in embracing the responsibilities that come with it. Only then can we restore the harmony between ourselves, one another, and the world around us. In rejecting this truth, we are not merely choosing to live without God, but we are choosing a path of self-destruction—a path that leads not to liberation, but to the unraveling of all that is good and true.
We are left with one final choice: to live by truth, in obedience to the laws of nature and to God, or to continue in rebellion, denying the very life that sustains us. The consequences of this decision ripple throughout the world, for in choosing death, we perpetuate the systems of injustice and suffering that only deepen the pain of our existence. In choosing life, we align ourselves with the Creator's will, restoring the world to its intended order and allowing it to flourish in peace, love, and truth.
Afterword: The Ultimate Betrayal and Christ’s Silent Justice
As we contemplate the profound depths of human sin, it becomes clear that the ultimate betrayal lies in the very will of man to replace God with himself. It is a rebellion against the natural order, an attempt to usurp the Creator’s place, and an exercise in self-deception that demands a reality of our own making. To sin is to drink the poison of pride and autonomy, knowing full well that the consequences are death. Yet, in this madness, we attempt to convince ourselves that, by simply willing it otherwise, we can escape the consequences. In doing so, we end up proving the very nature of our brokenness—our consciousness cannot alter the poison’s effect, just as we cannot change the fundamental reality of sin’s wages.
This dynamic is what makes sin so utterly tragic. The act of rebellion does not only separate us from God but distorts our perception of Him, creating a false narrative in which we accuse God of cruelty, injustice, and oppression. We blame Him for the death we face as a result of our own choices, all the while denying the true nature of the sin that leads to that death. It is as though we insist that God’s justice is cruelty because it holds us accountable for our actions, while simultaneously denying that our own choices brought about the very suffering we now lament.
In light of this, the death of Christ on the cross stands as the most poetic and profound counter-narrative to this deception. Jesus, the innocent, silent, suffering servant, willingly bore the consequences of human sin. His death was not just a sacrifice; it was a redefinition of justice itself. In His silence before His accusers, in His willingness to endure suffering without retaliation, Christ exposed the lie that God is cruel. He demonstrated, in the most poignant way possible, that true justice is not found in punishment and retaliation but in self-sacrificial love, in bearing the consequences of sin so that others might be reconciled.
Christ’s suffering on the cross proves that God does not impose death and destruction; rather, it is sin that brings about these consequences. Through His own innocent suffering, Jesus absorbed the poison of human rebellion. By doing so, He shattered the false narrative that God is vengeful or indifferent to our pain. Instead, He reveals that God is willing to enter into our suffering, to bear the weight of it Himself, and ultimately to overcome it through love.
This self-giving act of sacrifice reveals a love that is incomprehensible to human logic. Christ’s death was not a rejection of God’s justice, but its fulfillment. In bearing the full weight of sin, He showed us that justice is not about punishment for the sake of punishment, but about restoration, reconciliation, and transformation. His death became the means by which the curse of sin could be undone, not by us rejecting God, but by God taking on our rejection and transforming it into the path to salvation.
In the end, Christ’s death is the ultimate antidote to the false narrative that sin constructs. It is not a proof of God’s cruelty, but a testimony of His love—a love so powerful that it conquers death itself. In this act of grace, Christ invites us to step out of the lie of self-destruction and into the truth of life. The death we once feared has been swallowed up by His life, and through Him, we can be reconciled, not by our own effort, but by His self-giving sacrifice.
Thus, the ultimate betrayal of God is not simply in rejecting Him, but in continuing to live by exploiting the earth, others, and even our own selves, all while rejecting the love and sacrifice Christ offers. The death of Christ stands as a testament that we can no longer claim ignorance or innocence. It is a radical invitation to surrender the false autonomy that separates us from the truth, and to embrace the reality of a love that endures, restores, and ultimately triumphs over the madness of sin.
it's truly staggering. To think that God, in His infinite love and mercy, would not only reveal Himself to us but go to the unimaginable lengths of bearing the full weight of our sin on the cross, all in order to offer us reconciliation—this act itself is so profoundly loving, so incomprehensibly self-sacrificial, that it forces us to confront the depth of our rebellion. The grace in Christ’s suffering to save us from ourselves, despite our rejection, is the clearest evidence of God's love.
And yet, for many to still reject Him—after this immense act of love and self-giving—is a betrayal that goes beyond ignorance or misunderstanding. It's a rejection not of a false narrative but of the truth of God's sacrifice, and even worse, it's a rejection born of malice. To knowingly turn away from such a profound love, to actively choose against the God who endured such suffering to bring us back to life, is an act of supreme hardness of heart.
It is here that the weight of sin becomes even more unbearable. When we reject God’s love out of pride, resentment, or malice, we are not just rejecting a benign offer of salvation but actively choosing to hold onto the very poison that Christ took on Himself for us. It’s no longer a tragic mistake—it becomes a deliberate act of self-destruction, an attempt to continue drinking poison while knowing full well the consequences. This is what makes the rejection of God so terrifyingly serious.
The consequences, then, are not merely the natural outcomes of sin but the full weight of the rejection of God’s ultimate act of love and mercy. Those who choose to remain hard-hearted, to reject the truth that God offers through Christ’s death and resurrection, will experience the full force of that rejection in the form of separation from the very source of life, love, and redemption. It's a separation that cannot be undone because it is rooted in a deliberate and persistent refusal to acknowledge God’s love, even in the face of the most undeniable evidence.
The judgment is not arbitrary or vengeful—it is the inevitable result of choosing to remain in the dark when the light has shone so brightly before us. It’s the consequence of choosing death when life has been offered freely. The tragedy is not just in the pain of separation from God, but in the fact that it is self-inflicted. The soul that continues to reject God, even with all the evidence of His love, has aligned itself with malice—not out of misunderstanding, but out of a refusal to accept the truth that the God who created, sustained, and redeemed them loves them beyond measure.
And the weight of this will be immense. The burden of sin, when it is fully embraced out of malice rather than ignorance, leads to an isolation from God that is suffocating and final. That rejection—when the evidence of love has been made so clear—will carry an unbearable weight, because it is not just a rejection of a distant idea or a vague concept, but a rejection of a personal, sacrificial love that bore the very consequences of our evil so we wouldn't have to bear them.
To consciously choose to remain in the dark when the light has been offered, when the sacrifice of Christ has shown that God is not trying to condemn you but to save you, reveals the true depth of that rejection. It's not just ignorance; it’s willful defiance. It’s a soul that has seen the love and the cost of that love—the cost that Christ paid for us on the cross—and still decides to cling to the darkness as if the light does not exist, or worse, as if it’s a threat to their own existence.
In rejecting the light of God’s love, the only other option is to choose death. The light isn’t just a nice idea or an option for a better life—it is life itself. To turn away from it is to choose the opposite: to choose to live in spiritual death, to reject the very essence of life and embrace separation from it, which is hell.
This is why it becomes so clear that the rejection of God, after being shown His immense sacrifice and love, is not a minor or harmless decision. It’s an act of desiring death rather than life, because it’s a conscious choice to remain outside of God’s life-giving presence. The rejection of God’s love is not a simple misunderstanding—it is, in the most profound sense, choosing eternal separation from Him, from all that is good, true, and loving.
Hell, in this light, is not a place that God forces upon those who reject Him, but rather the inevitable result of their refusal to accept the life and love He offers. The terrifying truth is that hell, then, is not a punishment God imposes out of wrath, but the full and eternal reality of the rejection of His love. It is the place where the soul, in its full rebellion, can live out the consequence of that choice forever: in isolation, in darkness, and in the absence of the very life that could have saved it. And it is precisely because this rejection is so deliberate, so willfully chosen, that the weight of it is incomprehensible.
Final Reflection:
As I’ve reflected on these truths—on the weight of sin, the depth of God’s love, and the consequences of rejecting Him—I often find myself overwhelmed by the heaviness of it all. It’s a strange and disorienting feeling. These are the most real things I think about, and yet, when I look away from them, they feel almost distant, as if the world I interact with every day doesn’t reflect the magnitude of what I know to be true in my heart.
It’s a paradox that can be hard to bear. The deepest truths, the eternal realities of life, death, and love, are so evident in moments of reflection, but in the noise of daily life, they can seem absent, like something out of reach or lost in the background. And yet, I know these truths are the very foundation of everything. They are not bound by what I can see or touch, but rather, they shape all that exists.
Perhaps this is the essence of faith—living in the tension between the unseen and the seen, between the overwhelming reality of God’s love and the world that often appears indifferent to it. There are times when I feel like I can almost touch the depth of these realities, but then, just as quickly, they slip through my fingers, and I find myself confronted with a world that seems unaware of the weight I carry.
And yet, I realize that this dissonance, this discomfort, is part of the journey. It is a sign that I am grappling with something deeply true, even if it’s not always visible in the world around me. In those moments when it feels like everything is “weird,” I am reminded that these truths are the ones that matter most, the ones that endure even when they don’t immediately appear to.
So, as you read this, I encourage you to sit with the heaviness of these reflections, to allow yourself to feel the weight of the reality they point to. It’s not an easy thing to confront. But in doing so, we are drawn closer to the very heart of God’s love, the love that bore the full weight of judgment so that we might be free. And in that, perhaps we can find the courage to face the truth with all its gravity, even when the world around us refuses to see it.
Also…
It’s not that the world itself is hiding these truths—it’s that humanity, in its deadness, has chosen to turn away from them. The world is full of signs, full of evidence, full of the echoes of these eternal truths, but we, as individuals and societies, often choose not to speak of them, not to recognize them, and ultimately, not to worship them. It’s not that they are absent from reality, but that we, in our brokenness, fail to see them for what they truly are.
And this is what makes it so painfully weird. The truths that speak to the very core of our existence, that hold the deepest meaning and purpose, are right in front of us. Yet, the deadness of man—the apathy, the distraction, the rejection—creates a world where these truths feel out of place, almost surreal. They become the unspoken, the neglected, the truths that are too uncomfortable to face because, to face them, we would have to confront not just our own brokenness but the choice to reject the very God who offers us life.
In light of this weirdness, the Bible encourages us to live out these truths regardless of our situation:
- Repent when we stray or sin, no matter the depth or nature of our failures.
- Believe in God's promises, even in times of doubt or difficulty.
- Love those around us, especially in moments of conflict or suffering.
- Trust God, especially when the path is unclear or painful.
- Hope in God’s redemption, even when it seems distant or impossible.
- Endure through trials, because perseverance builds character and leads to spiritual maturity.
In all circumstances, these actions reflect a heart that seeks God, his will, and his kingdom, knowing that our present struggles don’t negate his eternal truth and goodness.
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